Which also explained the second pair of eyes tracking my progress. Sandra, a blonde by bottle only, flipped her fake hair over one half-naked shoulder and rolled her eyes at my late arrival. Even though it was only mid-March she wore a sleeveless top, showcasing buff arms. Like Robert, she worked out, and some of the rumors about him included not only Sandra but the “special” exercises they’d practiced on her home gym equipment as well. Made me want to dip him in a vat of Lysol just thinking about it.
I spent most of the meeting demonstrating a ladylike disregard of Sandra’s squinting eyes and contemptuous lip curls by directing a demure “you may have had him once but I have him now” smile in her general direction. The facial calisthenics cost me; distracted, I had to pass on speaking once again and was surprised when the meeting ended sooner than I expected.
As the crowd let out, I tried catching up to Robert but got trapped in the bottleneck caused by the narrow hallway. Few, including myself, were patient enough to simply wait for the crowd to clear.
Stuck behind Anna in her wheelchair, I wasn’t surprised when an eager voice behind me said, “Hi, Letty! What a group, huh? There’s a lot of good sobriety here tonight, huh?”
“Hi, Paul.”
“Yeah, this is great. I didn’t think you were coming tonight, but then you did. Did you have another emergency at work?”
“No, I just had something to take care of.”
“Oh, that’s good. I heard about that guy busting in on you. That must have been horrible.”
We’d cleared the hall. People stood in casual clumps throughout the lobby, chatting. A curious few turned in response to Paul’s overly loud remarks.
“It was.” My answer shot out more abruptly than intended. Knowing he meant well, I took a deep breath. “Listen, Paul, I’ll talk to you later. I need to catch up with Robert.”
“Oh sure, I understand. Tell Robert I said hi. You take care now, okay?”
Robert stood with a group of friends watching ESPN on the TV bolted high on the wall. I made my way over, tucking my arm into his. He leaned down, kissed my forehead, then turned back to the conversation. Sports bored me. I tuned them out, content to people watch.
After a few minutes, Robert’s sponsor Chad turned to me with a smile.
“Sorry, Letty, we seem to be leaving you out.”
I’d always liked Chad. Second-generation Norwegian genes supplied blonder-than-blond hair and a propensity to communicate mostly with his Delft-blue eyes, saving words for really important occasions like when the Packers won. As a typical northern Wisconsin farm boy, he’d been raised on homegrown beef, outdoor chores, and beer. The beer didn’t take. Making a sudden decision, I brought up Paul’s search for a sponsor.
“He’s asked a couple of guys and they all turned him down. He’s not the most socially gifted, but his heart’s in the right place. Any suggestions?”
A game of social freeze tag ensued—one of those awkward moments where nobody moves out of fear of drawing attention to himself. I waited them out. Therapists can wait forever. Someone would break.
Not surprisingly, it was Chad, although I’d secretly hoped Robert would offer.
“I guess I could,” Chad said, looking over the crowd at Paul.
Across the room, Paul stood against the wall as people streamed past. He caught our stares and waved happily, glad to be noticed. I was the only one who waggled my fingers back.
Robert grabbed my hand, pulling it down. “Don’t encourage him! Oh great, here he comes. Chad,” he continued, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to do this.”
“It’s no problem,” Chad said. “Besides, AA isn’t a popularity contest. Remember?” Significant eye contact and a raised eyebrow underscored his message, signaling some secret sponsor issue.
Nevertheless, just before Paul bounded into our midst, Chad leaned over and whispered, “But you owe me.”
I giggled for the first time in days.
Robert wasn’t so light-hearted. Throughout the evening, I’d failed to see any indication that he’d sent the flowers, and if he had, the gesture had made him cranky. After meetings we usually went out for a late supper with friends. His, mostly, since he didn’t see them during the week. Tonight I just wanted for the two of us to spend some time alone.
Didn’t happen. My suggestion, admittedly offered a tad late since we were already in Robert’s car heading to the restaurant, just caused more irritation.
“Letty, we always go out with the gang. If you wanted to change the routine, you should have said so earlier.”
“I didn’t have time earlier. We get so little time together; I just thought it would be nice.”
“I don’t get much time with my friends either. Sometimes I feel stretched too thin as it is. I just hope Chad doesn’t drag Paul along. What were you thinking of, roping him into being that geek’s sponsor? He’s so busy now I hardly get a chance to see him.”
Stung, I replied more harshly than I wanted. “I didn’t rope anyone into anything! Chad’s a big boy. If he didn’t want to sponsor Paul, he would have said so.”
“You don’t think it put him on the spot? My girlfriend asking him for a favor? He probably thought I put you up to it.”
“Why on earth would he think that? That’s ridiculous. And I wasn’t just asking him; I asked the whole group. Why didn’t you volunteer if you think Chad’s too busy?”
“Because I’m twice as busy as Chad, and I live too far away. I can’t be available in emergencies.”
I’d heard this before, but it didn’t explain why Robert didn’t sponsor someone in the Cities or why he chose a long-distance sponsor for himself. I’d always been charitable, figuring that he’d subconsciously arranged his closest relationships with built-in barriers. Long-distance relationships have a nice buffer zone for people with trust issues, me included.
We shelved the discussion when he pulled into the restaurant lot. Chad had, indeed, brought Paul, who was nearly delirious with joy at the invitation. Robert and I sat at the opposite end of the pushed-together tables.
Screw it. I ordered a chocolate shake for supper.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The rest of the evening churned out more of the same. An on-going source of tension between Robert and me included the fact that we had not yet been intimate. Tension was building in more ways than one. Truth was, I’d never been with a man without being liquored up, and with Robert living in the Cities, we hadn’t had any real time together. Trust issues, indeed.
So far Robert had acquiesced, but with visions of Sandra’s “workout” sessions hovering in the back of my mind, I’d been stressing enough on my own. That evening, while dropping me off before heading to a rental property where he stayed on weekends, Robert didn’t even try to put the moves on. That pissed me off, too. As he pulled up next to my little Focus, I realized I still didn’t know if he’d sent the damn flowers or not.
“Did you send me flowers today?”
“What?” The confusion wrinkling his face was answer enough.
“Never mind,” I said, shoving the car door open.
He grabbed my arm. Again. “What flowers?”
“Someone sent me a bouquet at work.” I yanked my arm away. “I thought maybe it was you. They didn’t sign it so—”
“Who’s sending you flowers?”
“Apparently not you. Look, just forget about it; it’s no big deal.”
“Maybe it was a client?”
“Maybe.” Not with that inscription, but why borrow trouble?
“Listen, Letty, I’m sorry about tonight.” Proving he was capable of learning, he laid his hand lightly on mine. “I know I wasn’t very patient. Things have been really rough at work and I may have let that carry over to tonight. I’m sorry.”
I thought about my last few days at work and decided I wasn’t very impressed with his apology. Besides, I found the timing of it a bit suspect. Guy finds out his girlfriend gets a bunch of flowers and suddenly he’s Mr. Sensitive. Big surpr
ise.
On the other hand, I didn’t want a big fight, and I knew I’d been on edge, too. Capitulating for the moment, I leaned across, and we kissed good night.
When I got home, I was greeted by a vase full of anonymous flowers and a voice mail filled beyond its capacity with blank messages. Deleting the latter, I briefly debated throwing the stupid bouquet away. They were too pretty. The passionate card, however, I ended up stuffing between the pages of my AA Big Book.
I was glad when the next day kept me busy. I focused on the clients passing through my office and, for the first time in many days, felt confident and sure of myself.
I finished before both Carol and Mary Kate, the only other counselors working, and headed out as quickly as I could. Patches of snow still covered the ground, the day promising a teasing hint of spring. My car was parked on the far side of the lot, its nose butting up against the massive berm of plowed snow piled along the edge. Compacted and ice hard, that stuff wouldn’t melt until at least May. If we were lucky.
As I went to unlock my car, a sudden movement at my back made me jump and drop my keys. Feeling foolish, I turned to share a laugh at my clumsiness with the in-going client.
Wayne smiled, too, but he wasn’t exactly oozing friendliness. He stood about three feet away, leaning up against the rusted side of a van, arms crossed in a manner recognized by bouncers and therapists as belligerent.
A quick scan of the parking lot told me two things: we were alone, and I was trapped in the canyon made by the vehicles. If I decided to make a break for it, I’d be forced to scale the pile of ice at my back like a mountain goat on steroids. In high heels. Right.
I’d have been so impressed with myself if I could have managed a calm response. My voice didn’t cooperate, however; the trembling squeak betrayed my fear. “What do you want?”
Wayne shook his head in disgust. “You’re gonna keep playing these games, aren’t you? You know what I want, bitch.”
His voice worked.
I scanned the lot again. Where the hell was everyone?
“You’re looking for Carrie,” I said, not bothering with pretense.
He clapped his hands together, mocking my effort. “Oh, very good. Very good. You’ve decided to cooperate.”
“Cooperation has nothing to do with it. I don’t know where Carrie is. I can’t help you.”
I’d expected rage, and it was there but buried under a sly smirk. A fission of shock swept through my body as I realized he’d expected my response. Planned on it. “Games,” Carrie had said. Still smiling that awful smile, he pushed off the van, drawing closer. Time slowed, my heart measuring out staccato thuds.
I don’t know what he would have done if Mary Kate hadn’t exited the clinic yodeling my name just then. We froze in place.
I took one step backward, closer to the pile of ice but farther into Mary Kate’s view. Wayne, sneering at my retreat, slid the van’s side door open with a rusty screech. He climbed in, carefully keeping his face turned away from Mary Kate. He paused once, looking deep into my eyes. Again, just like in the office, a strange current passed between us. Primitive. Hunter and prey.
Then he slid into the driver’s seat, cranked the engine and pulled out, tires spitting bits of gravel and ice chunks as sharp as broken glass. Dropping to my knees, I scrambled on the still-frozen asphalt, skinning knees and knuckles until I closed my hand around the hard metal of my keys. Moans escaped my lips, and as I yanked my car door open, I cracked my shin. Stoked on adrenaline, it registered as a dull thump—sound more than pain.
I suppose I could have cried, but shaking and screaming and pounding the steering wheel came more naturally.
Mary Kate tapped on the glass, face looming up next to mine, scaring the crap out of me all over again. I’d forgotten about her, but at least I quit screaming. I clicked the locks open and pointed to the passenger seat, still gasping from my outburst.
She was babbling before her butt hit the seat. “Oh, my gosh! What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Didn’t you see him?”
“See who? The guy in the van? Was that him? That Wayne guy? That was him, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. That was him.”
“Did he hurt you? What did he want?”
The questions made me want to scream again, but I forced myself to answer. “He wanted to know where Carrie is.”
“Do you know?”
“No, I don’t know. I have absolutely no freaking idea. She didn’t tell me, remember?” The hysteria started to build again, alive and out-of-control. Dangerous.
“Good thinking. On her part, I mean. But not exactly helpful for you, is it?” Mary Kate said.
“If I knew, I couldn’t tell him anyway.”
“Right,” she said, face scrunched skeptically.
I didn’t bother arguing. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the head rest. “I’m so sick of this,” I whispered.
“Are you going to call the cops?”
Good question. I thought about Robert waiting for me and weighed the likelihood of the police accomplishing anything with this episode. Doubtful.
On the other hand, if I were counseling someone I would advise her to at least make a report. Document the incident. Whatever. Now that I was sober I realized how much being responsible sucked. In the past, I would just get drunk over it. Nice and simple.
“Letty, if I hadn’t come out, who knows what would have happened? I mean, gosh!”
I didn’t want to play What If. As if on cue, my brain released its emergency response hold and alerted my shin to its recent abuse. With a gasp, I opened my eyes. “What did you want anyway?” I asked Mary Kate, aiming for distraction. Hers, not mine.
A contemplative look washed over her face as she debated letting me get away with the obvious tangent. Staring at the frantic, make-the-pain-go-away massage technique I was using on my leg, she finally answered my question.
“We’re planning a surprise birthday party for Marshall,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you about it. Obviously, this isn’t a good time.”
“His birthday?” I persevered.
“Yeah, well, it’s not for a while, so there’s time. I just figured I’d start collecting ideas. I had no idea what was going on out here.” She twisted around, watching the lot for Wayne’s return.
“Why are we planning a party in the first place? We don’t usually do that.”
“I know, but you aren’t looking to get hired after graduation. A little butt-kissing never hurt. Anyway,” she continued, “don’t worry about it now. Do you want me to wait while you call the police?”
I pondered that for a minute. Was I going to call the police? I didn’t want to. What I wanted more than anything was a drink. Distracted, I said, “No, you don’t have to wait. I’ll be okay.”
I stuck my keys in the ignition and started the car. Mary Kate looked disturbed. “Letty, I don’t want to leave you alone right now. Let me help.”
“You did help, Mary Kate. You’re my hero!” I said it lightly, hoping to ease the tension, but she flushed anyway. “I just need to get going. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
She didn’t like it, but she climbed out. Before shutting the door, she leaned down, “Call me, okay?”
“I will,” I lied. I shifted into reverse, leaving her no choice but to shut the door and back away. When I pulled out of the lot, she was still standing on the sidewalk watching.
I refused to think. I cranked the radio, but didn’t listen. My body hummed, a subliminal vibration. Nerves, dormant for four months, woke hungry, restless.
Thirsty.
Autopilot deposited me outside The Bear Cub, my old stomping ground. I sat there, sweating, car running. I smoked a cigarette, then dialed Sue. No answer. More sweat and another cigarette.
Dialed another number. Charlie picked up.
CHAPTER NINE
She was real clear. If I was still outside when she got to the bar, she’d pick me up. If I was inside, she’d
keep driving. That’s love, AA style.
I stayed outside. When we got back to her house, she let me curl up on the puffy chair and fed me chocolate chip cookies and ice-cold milk. That’s love, too.
“So, this guy jumps you in the parking lot and you decide to head for the bar.”
“It sounds kind of stupid when you put it like that,” I said.
She snorted and pulled the plate of cookies closer to herself. “OK, let’s break this down. Besides scared, which makes sense, what were you feeling standing there in the parking lot?”
“Alone.” The word popped out of its own volition. She nodded, biting into a gooey cookie. With her non-cookie hand she waggled a circle in the air in front of us, signaling “and?”
“And … little.”
“Little?”
“Helpless. Alone. Little.”
“Right. Before you were attacked, when was the last time you felt alone and little?”
I sighed. “The night before I got sober. The night before I came to AA. But, Charlie, you said yourself it made sense that I was scared of Wayne today. I don’t see how the two tie in.”
“Doesn’t it make sense to be afraid of drinking? Isn’t it just as dangerous? For us, I mean.”
Damn, she was good.
“But Sue has me working the steps and I’ve already done Step One. In fact, I’m almost done with Step Two.” Step One said, “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable.”
“Good for you. And good for Sue. But sometimes life has a way of bringing us back around again.”
“I don’t want to start over!” I sounded like a child being told she had to go to bed an hour early.
Charlie snorted again, a lovely sound conveying amusement, sympathy, and “tough luck” in one economical exhalation.
“Life on life’s terms, babe,” she said, quoting an AA cliché at me.
“Well, crap.”
The Enemy We Know Page 5