by Shelly Crane
I laughed. "I think I probably qualify. And…where are you sitting?" I asked, but we both knew I knew.
She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I stand in the back. I think I'm more of a commitment-phobe than you. Besides, I've done my stint in NA already. Now I'm just here for…moral support. And to keep the phobes from escaping."
She giggled at her own joke. It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen.
My mouth said, "Want to compare phobes…over dinner tonight?" I gritted my teeth at myself. I hadn't even been at NA for five minutes and I was already asking a girl out.
Her breath released slowly. "Addicts aren't really supposed to date other addicts. Besides, are you supposed to be dating right now?" she asked.
People in AA or NA or anything else weren't supposed to date for years or something. But I wasn't really in NA, or was I? I was just hoping I could keep myself out of trouble without Joey here.
"Whoa, who said anything about a date?" I teased.
Her lips parted and she backtracked. "Uh…I thought—"
"Is that a no, then?" I grinned along with my teasing.
"So you're not officially in the program? How many days are on your coin?"
"Don't have a chip or coin or badge or any of that other stuff. I…" I smiled and felt kind of guilty for some reason. "I've never gone to meetings."
"No meetings. No coins." She took a deep breath. "You can still answer my question of how many days sober, can't you?"
"I could," I ventured and smiled. She stared at my mouth for a few long seconds before looking back up to my eyes.
"You are a compulsive question avoider, aren't you?" Again she hit the nail on the head. She smiled to ease the sting.
"Guilty as charged."
"Would saying no flat-out help or hurt your ego with the fact that you're not supposed to be dating yet anyway?"
It was as if she knew I was hiding this big, bad secret inside and wanted to take it easy on me, but still call me on my crap.
"Not really. You see, I'm just here because I promised my friend I'd come."
She nodded, her lips sucking into her mouth in between her teeth. "Who?"
"Who what?"
"Who did you promise you'd come?" She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head, waiting for my answer.
"A friend. She left for a job in Texas. She was my…"
"Girlfriend," she supplied, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't stop the disappointment from seeping into her words and her face.
Good night, the little insightful, raven-haired minx was going to slay me where I stood. "No. My sponsor, of sorts. She took care of me herself. Her dad's a preacher and they watched out for me. Besides, I asked you out. I wouldn't have done that if I had a girlfriend."
"I guess not," she said. She looked infinitely sad all of a sudden. I went to speak, but she beat me to it, leaning back against the wall. "I wouldn't be a very good date even if you were supposed to be dating." She was not going to let that go, huh? Must be a strict thing around here. "I'm…" She pulled a coin from her pocket. She held it up sadly and smiled. "Mine is a three year coin. And counting." One side of her mouth lifted as she looked at it, almost lovingly. Maybe it was full-blown love for that coin, I didn't know. "You're not supposed to date for at least one year, some say two, but I've had a million and one things going on at once." She finally looked at me again. "Boys were never one of them."
I saw it, the barely-there spark that was left in her. She thought she was used up; she thought she had nothing left to give. It broke that vessel in my chest right there in the back of the NA meeting. I knew then I wanted more than just some flirting. And the tactics were going to have to change. Flirting came back so easily for some reason, but that wasn't what this girl needed. She needed someone to show her that whatever we were before wasn't who we had to be. Whatever sins of our past could stay there and not follow us into the rest of our lives.
But that somebody wasn't me.
I couldn't be somebody's light. I barely lit my own way on most days. So I looked around before looking back at her. She had a knowing smile on her face—her gorgeous little face that pleaded with me to save her and make her whole. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."
She nodded and put her coin back into her pocket. She smiled and turned to grab a pamphlet off the wall.
"My number's on the bottom." I raised a brow at that, my grin slightly returning. Her neck turned pink and she chuckled under her breath. "I mean, the hotline's number. I work here at the center. If you ever need to talk to someone or know someone who needs to talk, the number is on the bottom."
"And you would answer the phone?"
"Sometimes. There are several of us. I'm here almost every day." She pursed her lips a little at that admission. "Anyway. Good luck…uh?"
"Milo. Miles. Whatever."
"Milo." She picked the name as if she was claiming that as the name she'd call me. "Maya."
She put her hand out and I took it, pumping it gently. "It was nice to meet you, Maya."
"Same, Milo. I hope to see you again. Here, at the center for a meeting," she hurriedly corrected.
"Maybe." I started to leave, but stopped and looked over at her. "And if I had one of those chips, it would say one year, ten months, and twenty-one days on it. Not quite two years, but it's longer than I thought I'd ever get," I mused. That just didn't seem real. If she could only have seen me back then.
"That's amazing," she said in surprise.
I smirked. "What?"
"Nothing. I assumed you were a newbie, one of those one-weekers or something. Most people who don't come to meetings have a really hard time staying clean."
"Never said it wasn't hard."
"But," she continued as if I hadn’t interrupted, "that's what I get for assuming, right?"
"No, tell me what you get."
She laughed, which had been my intention. Man, she sounded angelic like that. "I'll let you figure it out."
"Maybe I will, next week."
I was being stupid. I should never come back here. This girl was going to get me into a different kind of trouble that I wasn't sure I was ready for. But I needed to come…well, I kind of promised Joe I would.
"I'll be here," she said easily, shrugging one shoulder, and smiling before moving past me to stand at the back of the group. That thought made me feel somewhat easier about this whole group thing.
I walked past the body shop to my apartment. I liked walking and running. It not only kept me in shape and busy, but it kept my limp from being so noticeable. It never bothered me too much. And when I ran, I didn't notice it at all, but when I walked, especially at the end of the day, you could tell sometimes.
My apartment was the next block over from the shop, above a little Chinese restaurant that made their own fortune cookies. It actually wasn't a bad place to live, smelling cookies baking all day. My apartment was small, and the dark brick walls made it seem even smaller. It was a studio apartment, so the bedroom and living room had no real walls to separate them. I didn't have much.
But it was mine. I paid the rent, the lights, bought my own food. The fact that I paid those bills with the new last name I had to change to Sawyer to make sure that nobody ever came looking for me didn't matter.
I took a quick, hot shower and then laid on the couch and watched hot rod rebuild shows as I ate a sandwich. I texted Joey and told her I went to a meeting. She told me she got settled into her new place and started the new job on Monday.
This was my life and I wouldn't wish this nonexistent life on anyone.
But I thanked God for that nonexistence every…
Single.
Day.
Maya
I stared at the coin that displayed for all to see that the user had made it two years without a drink or smoke or pill. I slipped it into my purse for safekeeping. I didn't know if that guy was going to come back, but if he did, I'd have a coin for him in a few weeks when he reached his two year mark. To the da
y.
It had been three days and I still found my mind drifting to him sometimes. He was so different from other guys. Getting clean without doing meetings was pretty impressive. Or dumb, depending on how you looked at it.
Probably a little of both.
But I knew one thing he was for certain, brave. And scarred. That's two things, but generally I've come to realize those things come hand-in-hand. My cell rang and I glanced over at it to see HOME displayed on the screen. My heart beat so hard as I grabbed it quickly and said a prayer in my head as my mouth said, "Will?"
"It's okay. Geez, you know I can call just to call and it doesn't mean I'm about to keel over."
He was irritated. I rolled my eyes. It wasn't my fault I panicked every time he called. "What's up?"
"Will you bring home some dinner? Real dinner. I'm not eating veggies and green juice tonight." I pressed my lips together. "Sis," he prompted.
"I guess one night won't kill you." I slapped my hand over my mouth in horror, my eyes stinging. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
He chuckled. "Dang. For once I thought you were being funny."
"It's not funny, Will," I hissed.
"Sometimes, Maya…all you have left is funny. It's okay, all right? Just bring something home, please. We'll go back to blender-veggies tomorrow. Promise."
"Fine." I wiped the stray tear that escaped. "I'll be home in a couple hours."
"Last week's Walking Dead episode is on the DVR. Zombies make everything better."
I shook my head and groaned out a laugh. "You're such a pain in my butt."
"I believe that's the definition of 'sibling'. Not shirking my duties. Nuh-uh."
I laughed a little harder, hating that laugh and loving it, too. I didn't laugh much anymore. It felt wrong and foreign. "See you in a bit."
"Hurry up, creep."
I took a breath before getting back to work and before I knew it, the clock said it was time to go. My poor truck sputtered and kicked as I lurched from the parking lot. It needed several things, but a battery was one. I had to get it jumped off several times the past few months. It also needed a new alternator, and the speedometer had stopped working more than a year ago, so I never knew how fast I was going, but it didn't matter. I loved my truck. I just wish I had the money to fix it.
I pulled into the lot and pushed the door open, the ringing of the bell above the door signaling my entry. The small old lady behind the counter's broken English was pretty darn adorable as she smiled at me. I told her my order of one beef and broccoli and a General Tso's chicken. And I always got some of the fortune cookies. They were the best there was. They were more like dessert than a little stale cookie with a fortune in it. These cookies made me want to believe whatever was inside it.
"Should've gotten the egg foo young," I heard over my shoulder. I turned my head and almost bumped faces with the guy as he leaned down. He chuckled and stepped back. "The foo is the best."
"Never had it," I confessed and turned fully to find a grimy, dirty mess of a man with Milo's face underneath. I found myself biting into my lip.
He smiled, but realized he was still in his work clothes. He chuckled with embarrassment and rubbed his hair. "Yeah. I have one of those dirty jobs. Sorry. I was just grabbing dinner before going upstairs."
"No, it's fine. You should be proud of it," I told him and felt my smile stretch. I remembered my dad coming home so dirty, from other work obviously, but still dirty and still proudly displaying a day's work.
"Where did you go?" he asked and looked at my face closely as I daydreamed. I cleared my throat and half-smiled. He smiled back and shrugged. "You looked like you went somewhere you wanted to be."
"My dad, he…" Just saying his name made me want to cry. So much for being over it. "He always came home dirty, too. He worked construction."
He pressed his lips together in sympathy. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay. Like I said, it was a different kind of dirty." I looked him over and felt my breaths come in and out at how different it really was. His arms had spots of black grease on them, but it didn't cover up the fact that his arms were huge. That wasn't uncommon, actually. Addicts usually found ways to keep busy, exercise being one of them… I was analyzing him. I had fallen way down if my gawking of this hot-guy turned into analyzing him like a freaking desperate caller.
I looked up to find him watching me look him over. He had this smirk on his face that showed me my gawking had been more than a couple acceptable seconds. I licked my lips and smiled coyly. "Um, your um…" I pointed at his arm. "You obviously work out. That's good. It's a good tool for recovering addicts."
He laughed under his breath, the movement shaking his chest. "Uh, thanks."
"And," I continued stupidly, "you're eating out before going home, which is good, too. It's less temptation when you're not out in the party and club nightlife of the city."
"So, do you usually bring your work home with you or do you interrogate everyone? Is this not special treatment?"
My blush burned up my neck. "Sorry. It's habit."
"It's fine. I'll totally take those suggestions under advisement." He grinned.
I realized then that he hadn't looked away from me yet. Not once. He was so attentive—even seemed…enthralled. "It's ready, miss." I looked over to see the woman placing my bag on the counter. She looked up and smiled big. "Milo, the usual is coming, yes." She looked between us. "You want a cookie? You could share, split it with pretty girl?"
He laughed at her obvious attempt at matchmaking. "Oh, thanks, Mrs. Ming, and I'll definitely take you up on it another day." He looked back at me and smiled cockily. "But I was told I'm not allowed to share a cookie with this pretty girl for forty-four more days. Two years, isn’t that right, Maya?"
"It's more of a guideline," I started, but stopped. There was no point. I smiled and shook my head. I walked and took the bag from the counter before turning back to him. "I'll see you on Friday?"
"Never saw you as a rule breaker," he mused, mocking me.
"For the meeting, beefy." I laughed. "For the meeting."
He seemed to be mulling it over with a grin, or stalling, either way. "I'll be there, gorgeous."
My heartbeats physically skipped a little at that. I smiled as best as I could and made my way to my truck. He watched me from inside and I prayed it would crank. It did, but barely. It was the first time in a long time I was embarrassed about my crappy truck as I sputtered from the lot to our apartment.
On Friday, I was cornered by the only true rascal in the bunch. Most of the people there truly wanted to get better and stay that way. This guy, however, thought the sympathy card was a free ticket to every girl's underpants. He never got aggressive; it was just beyond creepy. He put his hand on the wall by my head and I sighed before weaseling my way out of the cage he'd made. "Just listen. I know the guy. He'll give us a great deal on a two-for-one lobster dinner. What do you say? You and me."
"Perry, I've told you several times that I'm not interested."
"Yeah, but you don't even pretend and use the old we-can't-date-our-patients line that they all use, which makes me think you're just playing hard to get." And cue creepy smile.
"No, I'm not going to lie to you. I think you need to find someone that the feelings are on both sides. And stop offering cheap lobster as a bargaining chip. You're just hurting yourself with that one, Perry"
I walked away and he yelled across the tiled room just as I saw Milo come through the doors. "Keep playing hard to get, sweetheart. One of these days we'll share a lobster!"
I pressed my lips together and shook my head. Milo's brow arched as he made his way to me. "Has your heart been stolen since the last time I saw you?"
I laughed and tapped his arm with my fist. "Shut up. Don't get him started."
"So…" He looked down at me sideways.
"So, beefy." He smiled at my nickname. "I think this is where we drum on about our boring lives. How was your week?"
"Oh, just
fine," he played along. "I work at Tom's Garage. He's slowly teaching me the biz. Learning a lot there. How was your week?"
"Oh, just fine," I copied mockingly. "I didn't have to talk anyone from the ledge, proverbial or physical, so that's a plus."
He leaned back against the table where the coffee was set up and crossed his arms. "So you answer the phones and talk to people who call in with problems?"
"Not just any problem. We're an addiction counseling center. We're supposed to only deal with people who are calling in about their addiction and either in denial about it or wanting to come to meetings, but we get other stuff sometimes. Technically, we're supposed to field those callers somewhere else, but when a woman calls and says her husband hits her and she doesn't know what to do about it, it's hard to tell her to go call someone else instead of saying that she needs to leave that scumbag. Mostly, I tell people that though getting help is hard, it's worth it. And that old saying about how you can't go home again is crap. More often than not, their families welcome them with open arms when it's clear they're trying to do better."
He nodded. "You're braver than I am. I wouldn’t know what to tell those people. I don't even have my own problems taken care of."
"You'd be surprised how easy the answer comes when you've been through it." His gaze jerked to mine and I shook my head. "No, no, no. We are not getting into that."
"Fair," he stated. "It's a bad omen to spill your guts and bad deeds before the first date anyway." I felt my lips part. He smiled and moved a little closer, putting the knuckle of his finger under my chin to close my mouth gently. "You didn't think I was giving up, did you?"
I could smell him and I inhaled subconsciously to breathe in more of him. My words sounded more like breaths. "I don't know what I'm thinking. I've never had someone ask me out twice before. Other than creepy Perry."
His smile was slow. "Are you going to make me ask a third time?"
"You think it's a good idea…for two people with addiction in their pasts to get together?"
"Is that you or the pamphlet talking?"
I couldn't help but giggle a little at that. "Mostly the pamphlet," I confessed. "I haven't had an issue in a really long time. I'm positive I won't have a relapse anytime soon, but positive people fall off the wagon every day."