by Mike Monson
“First,” he said while looking down at the three-year chip in his hand, “I want to say how grateful I am to this program. It has given me something I’d been convinced I would never have: a life. A clean and sober life lived on life’s terms with the help of the tools of this program, and all that I’ve learned from each and every one of you, from my sponsor, from the Big Book, from working the steps, and of course, most of all, from my higher power.
“Because, you see, three years ago today, I had hit…what I hope…to be my absolute bottom. I was drinking a bottle of tequila every day—not a pint or anything lame like that—but one of those 750 milliliter bottles, along with eight or ten beers, and I was drinking to blackout almost every time I drank. My wife had finally gotten disgusted and left with the kids a month earlier.
“On this morning, June 17, three years ago, I woke up in my car. It was parked on the front lawn about an inch from the big front window. I was lying on the floor in the back seat. I was stiff and I was sick, but I finally managed to get myself up and get the car parked properly in the driveway. I went inside, and once again I couldn’t remember anything about the night before. I went to take a shower and when I looked in the mirror, I had a black eye and I was bleeding from two cuts on my lips. There were ugly bruises all over my neck, on my arms and all across my torso. It looked like I’d been beaten half to death. Then I noticed my hands. My knuckles were swollen and cut and caked with dried blood.
“I had no idea what had happened. You know that feeling, right? Yeah, of course you do. It was that horrible hangover sickness, the awful headache, and that lost, paranoid feeling of … oh, shit … what the fuck happened? You know? Was I about to be arrested? Was there someone out there hurt worse than me, someone that I had hurt? Were there people pissed at me all over town who knew all about what awful things I’d done? People that might want to hurt me?
“I stood there for the longest time staring at myself in that cruel mirror, looking at my fucked-up hands, trying desperately to remember something, anything from the night before. I was painfully missing my kids, who I’d been banned from seeing at that point, and missing my wife and feeling like a total shit for driving her away … any of this sound familiar? Right? Right? I thought so. And I finally admitted that my life had become unmanageable. That I was finally sick and tired of being sick and tired. And that’s a big moment, right? I mean, that is half of the first step, right there, you know? Then, right away—I swear to god it happened just like this—for the first time in my life I saw that I had no power over my craving for alcohol and it was the alcohol and my own screwed-up decisions that had put me in that truly unmanageable spot. Then, again, I immediately remembered everything I knew about AA, you know from TV, from movies, from some class I’d taken in school, you know, the meetings, the steps, the fellowship, and I got this weird faith, that, oh, man, that is where I belong. I needed to get with those people and if I called up AA and immersed myself in the program and started going to meetings and doing whatever they said, that I wouldn’t need to drink anymore and that my life would get better.
“That’s steps one and two, right? I admitted I was powerless over alcohol and that my life was unmanageable—Step 1. And, I came to believe that a power greater than myself—the AA program and fellowship—could restore me to sanity—Step 2. Boom. Step three happened right away as well. Because, well … now, my wife Martie—sweet, caring, loveable Martie—long before she’d given up on me, she’d gone down to the AA Central office, you know that one over on I Street, upstairs? She’d marched right in there and talked to whatever volunteer was on duty, and demanded that AA fix her husband. I mean, she was married to a miserable low-life drunk and we were always broke and she had kids to raise. She was desperate and embarrassed and humiliated, and she was in the central office of the organization in charge of such people, so, to her, she figured she’d come to the right place to get her shitty life straightened out.
“Now, I’m not sure about all that transpired there, but I’m fairly certain Martie was asked if Paul was onboard with this idea, because they couldn’t make me do anything against my will, right? They must’ve told her that I had to want help, and that I had to be willing. Well, she knew the answer to that question I imagine, but she went ahead and grabbed all the pamphlets and books she could. She brought home the Big Book, the 12 and 12, Living Sober—all of it. Of course, I never read any of the material and I imagine I acted like a big asshole when she showed it to me. But I knew where it all was and I left the bathroom and that horrible mirror and found the Big Book. I made a pot of coffee and I sat down and started reading. I drank that entire pot as I read the first five chapters. And, let me tell you, I was mesmerized. That’s when I took Step 3, I came to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity. I became convinced that if I gave myself over to this AA thing, that I just might be all right.
“I called up AA, found out that there was a meeting at noon that day, at the Hole-in-the-Wall, less than a mile from my house. I went to the meeting, got a sponsor, and started working the steps and, thanks to all of you wonderful people, I haven’t had to drink since that day and for that I am very, very grateful.
“Of course, I didn’t know what I’d gotten myself into. I believed that if I stopped drinking and became an upstanding AA member, that I’d immediately, you know, get a good job, money in the bank, get a better car, and, of course, my wife and kids would come back to me and life would be beautiful. You know, the old joke about what happens when you play a country song backwards.
“I don’t have to tell you how all that turned out. Ha! So, yes, I did get a job, in fact, I’ve had several jobs since that day—all of them shitty. There’s hardly any money in the bank, but there’s always enough, you know? And I still have that same horrible car that I woke up in that morning. And my wife and kids? Well … uh, no, she’s never coming back, and I’ve made peace with that fact, and my kids, I see them and our relationship is getting … better, all the time, but I caused them a lot of hurt and pain by my behavior and that’s something that will just have to heal in its own time. All I can do is work the steps and be the best person I can be today and deal with what’s really happening.
“You know, the last thing I ever wanted was to live life on life’s terms. Are you kidding? I’ve always preferred my own fantasy version. But, in AA and with the help of all of you, I’m learning to do just that. So, no, life isn’t perfect today, but that’s okay with me, because this program and all of you and my higher power give me all the tools I need to live a sober life one day at a time. And that’s truly a beautiful thing, isn’t it? … Thank you all for listening.”
This was one of Paul’s better pitches and he knew it, he could tell that he’d appeared honest, spiritual, like someone committed to sobriety. People had laughed at the funny parts and seemed moved by the parts he’d hoped were moving. He’d made up most of the details (except for his sobriety date, the frequency of his blackouts, and the part about having an ex-wife named Martie who’d taken their two kids and left him a month before he’d gotten sober), but it was the story he’d been telling at the Hole for three years so he stuck with it.
Afterwards, a lot of people came up and shook his hand, hugged him tight, thanked him for being so honest, wished him a happy birthday. Several new people asked for his number.
He tried to pay attention—he knew that he should be present, especially for the newer members—but all he could think about was that lovely woman with the two kids and whether or not she’d been impressed with his sharing. He kept looking past whoever was talking to him to see where she was. When the last person had walked away and he was convinced she had left, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and it was her.
“So, did you ever find out what happened that night?” she said.
Close up she was even more stunning.
“Yes, yes I did,” Paul said, smiling.
“And…?”
“It’s
not very exciting, it’s really kind of stupid. You sure you want to hear it?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She smiled too.
“Maybe you better tell me your name then?”
“I’m Tina,” she said, and reached out her hand.
“I’m Paul.” He took her hand for a quick shake. He had to be careful here. Because of the setting, and because she was most likely reeling from some kind of awful relationship hurt that was still fresh, Paul knew he couldn’t say anything that sounded flirty, or like a come on—even though such things were running through his mind at light speed. If he did, it would come off as creepy and the spell would be broken and he’d lose his chance. He had to act like all he wanted to do was to connect with another human, on a spiritual level, on a program level. A fine line to walk.
“What brings you here, Tina,” he said, “if you don’t mind my asking?”
He walked over to a nearby picnic table and she followed. They sat down facing each other, a safe distance apart. She looked over at her kids, who were playing happily in the bouncy house.
“I just joined Alanon,” she said.
“You have an alcoholic family member?”
“Soon-to-be-ex-husband. Well, three ex-husbands, to be honest.”
“Well, Alanon is a great program.”
“Did your ex-wife join?”
“Martie? Ha! No way. That would require admitting that she was part of the problem, that it wasn’t just me. No, as far as Martie is concerned she has no dysfunctions whatsoever, her only mistake she ever made was in marrying Paul Dunn.”
“How is she doing now?”
“She’s married again, to this guy Frank.”
“And is Frank a drunk?”
“You know, I’m not sure. He seems okay, he makes a good living as a contractor, and they live in this nice big house. Martie drives a Lexus or something and Frank has one of those big fancy Chevy pickup trucks. But, sometimes, if I drop the kids off on trash day, the recycling can is overflowing with Miller Lite cans.”
Tina looked over at her kids again. She turned back to Paul, looking serious.
“I really appreciated your honesty today,” she said. “Not many men have the guts to talk like that. Not many I’ve known, at least.”
Yes! This was going great.
“Stick around the program, and you’ll find I’m not the only one.”
“Alanon seems to be mostly women.”
“That’s true, I guess. But you can go to open AA meetings if you want. There’s a lot of good sobriety in this town. And program is program, you know? What are there, maybe eight Alanon meetings a week? There’s probably 50 AA meetings.”
“That’s a good idea. Could you recommend one to me?”
“I’m going to one tonight, at the Hole-in-the-Wall. It’s at seven. It’s an eleventh step meeting. Very cool.”
“The eleventh? Which one is that again?”
Paul smiled. He leaned back, closed his eyes and recited: “Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.”
“That’s a good one.”
“I know, it’s my favorite.”
“I’m not very religious,” she said, leaning slightly closer.
“Me neither.”
“I’m more … spiritual.”
“Exactly. The program is very open about all that.”
“Really? I don’t have to start going to church or anything?”
“Naw… No way.”
“That’s good to know.”
Paul knew exactly what to do at that point.
“Why don’t you come tonight and see? Can you get a sitter?”
“Oh my mom will take them, no problem.”
Paul stood up. He held out his hand.
“So I’ll see you there, then?”
Tina got up and took his hand.
“We’ll see,” she said.
“Okay, well, it was nice to meet you.”
Paul let go of Tina’s hand and turned to walk away.
“Hey,” Tina said. “What happened that night?”
“Oh, right.” Paul turned back. “Apparently I was at Dante’s Inferno, you know that dive out on Yosemite?”
Tina’s face clouded up. “I know of it.”
“Right. Well, apparently, I didn’t like the selections in the jukebox so I decided to beat it up. That’s how my hands got so bloody and bruised.”
“And the rest of you?”
“The bartender and the owner didn’t like the way I was acting so they took me out back and stomped the hell out of me.”
“You’re right,” she smiled. “That is kind of stupid.”
Tina showed up that night at the meeting. Paul managed to play it cool, he didn’t ask her out, but they exchanged numbers. They talked on the phone quite a bit, and saw each other at meetings. Eventually, they went out for coffee after, then out on real dates, which led to Paul moving in to her house. This process took three weeks.
Tina’s divorce was final six months later, and the two got married. Tina’s Alanon sponsor did not approve of this at all, so Tina stopped going to Alanon. Paul’s sponsor wasn’t too encouraging either, so Paul fired him, and slowly distanced himself from the program.
Getting Paul’s life in order replaced the twelve steps as their common obsession. Paul had managed to get only about three years of college credits in the eight years since high school because of his drinking and his inability to stick with any one thing. They both agreed that he was a very smart and special person and that he needed to stop working dead-end jobs (pizza cook, waiter, construction laborer, route salesman) that he was always getting fired from for incompetence, or quitting out of frustration.
The problem wasn’t Paul, they decided, the problem was the jobs. With Tina’s encouragement, he went back to school at Stanislaus State University to finish his degree, and continued on to get his credential to teach high school English. Paul, who loved to read and study when his messy life allowed him to, was quite clever verbally, and they felt he belonged at the head of classroom, not in some construction site cleaning up trash.
There was one problem though, that Paul figured out to his great dismay during his student teaching stint—he hated teaching and he hated high school kids. He felt uncomfortable in the classroom and found that he had no ability to control or discipline a class. He was a lousy authority figure. The kids saw this and used it to their advantage. He was weak, and they knew it, and his students behaved like fucking animals.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
He earned his credential and was applying for jobs, but the very thought of teaching caused him severe anxiety. But he couldn’t tell Tina this. She was so proud of him for doing exactly what she wanted—and so proud of herself for creating ‘high school teacher respectable Paul’ that he couldn’t bear to disappoint her by telling her the truth.
In spite of the success of their project, the marriage had not been going well for quite a while. Paul, who was temporarily slender when he met Tina (from a brief obsession with the Atkins Diet), had gained back all the weight and more. His huge gut and double chin disgusted Tina, and she gradually lost whatever sexual attraction she once had for Paul. They rarely had sex, and when they did, Paul had to promise to make it as fast as possible and to not speak or look her in the eye.
And the Paul that Tina had fallen for was mostly a character that he’d made up as they went along, a character he’d improvised and created as he listened to Tina and tried to figure out what she liked and did not like. The performance that just took too much energy to maintain. Slowly, the real Paul started to show through—and he was someone neither one of them liked very much.
Feeling trapped, a fat and very anxious Paul managed to get a job at a high school in Turlock, a town about twenty miles south of Modesto. Tina was excited thinking they were about to enter a new level of the m
iddle-class, and she talked him into taking advantage of the hot real estate market where even deadbeats like Paul could get a loan. They bought a brand-new, 2,500-square-foot house in one of the dozens of subdivisions then popping up all over Modesto. They filled it with shiny appliances and fancy furniture bought on credit. The mortgage was quite reasonable at first. But it would go up drastically at some future point—all part of some complicated new financing scheme for first-time homeowners that neither Paul nor Tina really paid attention to until it inevitably bit them in the ass.
The first day of school was torture. Paul knew he didn’t belong there and felt certain everyone else felt the same way. Paul was convinced the administrators and the other teachers saw his incompetence immediately, and, of course, his students smelled fear and took advantage of his weakness.
He became more and more anxious and paranoid every week. His conversations with his colleagues were brief and awkward. He knew they talked about him behind his back, and if any of them smiled, he assumed it was because they were laughing at him on the inside. He avoided the teacher’s lounge and took his lunch breaks in his car.
His compulsive overeating got worse and worse—he could not stop eating. He stopped at Jack In the Box for two chorizo breakfast burritos on the way to school each day. He kept M&Ms and Milky Way bars in his desk for constant snacking. He drank from liter bottles of Mountain Dew at all times to quench a never-ending thirst. On the way home, he stopped at KFC and McDonalds and Burger King, consuming large meals two at a time.
All this food and liquid and anxiety gave him heartburn and incredible gas. He perspired non-stop. He had a constant need to pee, to take a dump, and to fart. He knew he stank, and he knew the kids talked and laughed about it. His farts were often sharts and he became obsessed with keeping his underwear and his butt clean. He was often late to class after breaks he’d spend in the men’s room cleaning cleaning cleaning his asshole using the disposable wipes he kept in his back pocket. Many times he noticed that he’d splashed water or leaked piss on the front of his himself, so he wore only black pants to work to hide the stains from his cruel students.