Escaping the Edge

by H. M. Sholander

  A couple of people amble to the middle of the room. Everyone applauds as each newcomer receives their chip. I contemplate standing from my chair for a few minutes before I make a decision. This is what I’m here for, right? I slowly rise from my chair and maneuver around everyone in the room. I stand in front of the petite woman, and she embraces me in a hug before handing me a chip.

  I would never have thought having a tiny poker chip would give me such a sense of pride. I sit back down in my metal chair and stare at the white chip with gold writing indicating one day of sobriety that doubles as a keychain. A gentle reminder of the struggles I've faced and the ones I have yet to overcome. I slowly run my finger over the gold one that is stamped on the front, and a smile pulls at my mouth. I squeeze the chip in my hand and bring my eyes to the dark outline across the room. I silently thank him for the courage he bestowed on me tonight.

  “If you need a sponsor, see me before you leave.” The woman closes the silver briefcase and dismisses the meeting.

  I’m not sure what a sponsor entails, so I decide to take another step in the right direction and find out.

  After most of the people in the room have congregated outside to smoke, I make my way over to the petite woman. The room is still dark when I approach her, but I notice her hair has a salt and pepper appearance. She’s wearing frameless glasses and wrinkles line her eyes when she smiles, which makes her even more inviting.

  When I’m standing directly in front of her, I become tongue-tied and nervous.

  She stretches out her hand and says, “Hi, I’m Rachel. I’m glad you came. It’s hard to walk in here the first day. I promise everyone's very friendly and only wants to help.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad to be here.” I stare at the ground and try to form the right words. “So what’s a…who would be...” I pause not able to form the right words.

  “Would you like to know what a sponsor is?” she asks sweetly.

  “Yes.” I glance up at her with a weak smile.

  “Let’s sit down, and I’ll tell you all about it.” She leads me to the couch pushed against the wall and motions for me to take a seat next to her.

  She explains for ten minutes that a sponsor is someone I'll lean on for help when I feel the desire to drink. They'll support me when I'm at my weakest and will tell me to be strong and resist the addiction.

  “It might be unconventional, but I know someone who is available as a sponsor. He’s a great person to have in your corner. Come on, I’ll introduce you to him.” She takes my hand and lifts me from the couch. For such a small woman, she has a force around her that commands you to obey her.

  I follow her as she leads me outside into the night air. It’s dark, and the only light is coming from the streetlights. Gravel crunches under our footsteps, and I pray I don’t trip like an idiot. Puffs of smoke are whisked into the air by the stragglers hanging out after the meeting.

  She comes to a stop in front of a guy with dark brown hair that's shorter on the sides and long on top. He looks like he ran his hand through his hair to style it in that I don’t give a fuck kind of way. His hazel eyes shine down at me with curiosity before they fall on Rachel. I take a moment to study him while his attention is diverted. He towers over my frame by at least six inches, making him six feet tall. A gray shirt is stretched across his chest, hugging his lean muscles with dark jeans hanging from his hips. He kicks the gravel with his black Converse, and I have to smile. I love a guy in Converse. Don’t ask me why. He’s the only one not smoking outside, and it makes me wonder why he stuck around after the meeting.

  “Avery, what do you think?” Rachel inquires, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

  I focus my attention back on her, wondering what the hell she just asked me. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask as my cheeks heat. Thank God it’s dark outside. Neither of them are the wiser to my embarrassment.

  Then, it hits me. He’s the dark figure from tonight. He’s the one whose story spoke to me. I might not have seen his face, but I can tell from the way his hair falls on his forehead and the outline of his shoulders. Yeah, okay, call me crazy, but I know it’s him. My cheeks heat from embarrassment for a whole other reason.

  “Ryan is going to be your sponsor. Is that okay?”

  “Oh, umm…yeah,” I say nervously.

  The dark figure who gave me the courage to speak out tonight is going to be my sponsor? How did that happen? Wait, didn’t he say he’s not an alcoholic? I thought your sponsor was supposed to be someone who has gone through what you have. I have too many questions that I need answers to before I can move forward.

  “Can I speak to you for a second, Rachel?” I ask.

  “Of course.”

  We walk off to the side, out of earshot from Ryan.

  “How can he be a sponsor?” I ask curiously. I don’t understand. That will teach me not to zone out again.

  “As I said earlier, I know it’s unconventional, but he is an amazing sponsor. He may not have a drinking or drug problem that he is working through, but he has been on the other side. He knows how hard it is to deny your addiction and how much it hurts the people you love. Although his dad only attended meetings here for seven months, he has been coming here for two years. He has been a sponsor to two other people and did an amazing job.” She lets out a sigh. “Trust me on this, okay? But, if you don’t feel comfortable, I’ll find you someone else.”

  I peek over at Ryan standing in the same spot we left him. He’s still kicking rocks around and has his hands shoved into his pockets. He looks up, and our eyes connect for a few seconds before he turns his head, avoiding my curious gaze.

  “Okay.” I couldn’t say no to either of them even if I wanted to.

  “You won’t regret this. I promise,” she says with a smile.

  I’m not sure I agree with her because from the looks of him, I know I could get into some serious trouble. And, I don’t mean from my addiction.

  THREE

  When I’m standing across from Ryan without Rachel, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how any of this works. He’ll have to take the first step because I won’t.

  “I’m Ryan. It’s nice to meet you, Avery.”

  “You too.” Great, I can’t manage more than two words.

  “So, it’s your first time here?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I cross my arms from the chill in the air and focus my attention on the ground.

  “It gets easier. You’ll meet more people, and soon enough, you’ll be spilling all your secrets you thought you’d never share with a room full of people you barely know.”

  I’m not sure if that was supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn’t.

  After an awkward silence, he continues, “Are you free tomorrow?”

  “I have to work, but I’ll be off by four.” I finally manage to say a complete sentence.

  “I can meet you for coffee, and we can get to know each other.”

  I avoid his gaze while I think it over. I’ve never been so unsure about myself or a situation, and it’s throwing me off balance. I’m always the one who has the answer, and I’m always up for meeting new people. Or, I used to be those things before I lost myself.

  “No heavy talk, I promise.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

  I shake my head to clear the thoughts running a mile a minute through my brain. “Sounds great.”

  “Hand me your phone, and I’ll give you my number. I’ll text you tomorrow to find out where you want to meet.”

  I hand over my phone and watch as he programs his number and texts himself, so he has mine, as well.

  “I have to get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See ya,” I say barely above a whisper.

  He waves goodbye as he turns around and disappears into the night.

  Frozen in place, I wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into by agreeing to a sponsor, especially one who looks like Ryan.

  We agree to meet at a coffee shop down the road fro
m my apartment. On the walk to meet him, my thoughts delve into Grayson. It’s been a month since he was ripped away from me, and it hasn’t gotten any easier. We weren’t dating when he died, but I always believed we would end up together when I could get my addiction under control. Maybe if I didn’t have a problem in the first place, we never would’ve broken up, and he’d still be here with me.

  Nine months ago, I let him slip through my fingers. I had fallen into a dark place that no one could pull me out of, not even him. Balancing Grayson and friends became too much when my job demanded my presence twelve hours a day. I wanted to pull my hair out every fucking day I stepped foot into my office. I fucking hated it and the stress. When we broke up, I decided to step down from my position, but lately, the desire to quit has reared its ugly head all over again. I’m mindlessly going through the day-to-day menial tasks without making any real progress with my life. Mostly, I feel lost. Every damn day.

  I open the door to the coffee shop, and I’m hit with the wonderful aroma that instantly wakes you up. I don’t see Ryan at a table, so I order a coffee and sit down in a booth situated in the back corner. I like my seclusion from prying eyes. Not like anyone in this coffee shop has any idea who I am. Nonetheless, people are nosey as shit. I place my sweatshirt next to the window to shield me from the cold seeping in through the cracks. I wrap my hands around the warm cup of coffee and focus on the steam wafting from the tiny hole in the lid. I get so lost staring at my coffee that I’m startled when Ryan sits across from me dressed in a black hoodie with his hair styled in that ‘I don’t give a fuck’ way, which I’m assuming is always tousled in the same style.

  “Hey,” he says, “sorry I’m late.”

  “It’s fine. I haven’t been here long.” I think. I did zone out for a minute or maybe it was longer than a minute. Ugh, whatever.

  I notice how good he looks in the light. I couldn’t make out his features last night because of how dark it was, but it’s hard to miss his handsome features with the lights shining down on him. His hazel eyes smile at me as he takes a sip of his own coffee. His cheeks are slightly pink from the chill outside. A light stubble covers his defined jawline that makes him appear older, not that I know how old he is. I avert my eyes from his face because I’ve been staring at him longer than what’s considered socially acceptable.

  “How was your day?” he asks, leaning back against the booth and placing his arms lazily on the table.

  “It was okay.” It was actually terrible, and I could use something stronger than this damn coffee. I listened to my boss ream me out for thirty minutes over a stupid mistake. I never get any appreciation for the work I do, but if I make a teensy tiny mistake, it’s all my boss can talk about. “You?”

  “Wasn’t too bad. I’m glad you had time to meet today. All I want to do is get to know you.” He twirls his coffee cup around in his hands, and it falls over but nothing spills on the table.

  Did he already finish his coffee? Damn, that was fast.

  “I know it’s hard to open up to new people about your issues. I believe it makes it easier if we start small.”

  “Okay.” I pull the sleeves of my dark blue shirt over my hands to keep them warm.

  “I want you to be comfortable with me, too, so let’s each take turns asking the other a question. You can go first.”

  I have no idea what to ask him, so I say the first thing that pops into my head. “What’s your last name?”

  “Jackson,” he replies with an easy smile, “what’s yours?”

  “Bennett, but that doesn’t count as a question. It’s still your turn.”

  He smiles. “How old are you?” he questions, still showing off that gorgeous smile.

  “Twenty-four. You?”

  “Twenty-five.” He stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something. “If my first question didn’t count, then your last one doesn’t either.”

  I roll my eyes. “Do you have a job?”

  “Not right now. I left my job a week ago.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll see where life takes me.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. “What do you do for work?”

  “Insurance company. What did you do for work last week?” I don’t pause, so he doesn’t have a chance to question me.

  “I was a realtor, but I hated it. So, I left. Life’s too short to spend it at a job you hate five days a week. Most people tell themselves they are only at their dead end job until they can find another one, but those people are the ones who end up working their lives away doing something they hate. Before they know it, they’ve spent their whole life missing out on their dreams.”

  Whoa, I’m stunned. Is this guy in my head? Does he know what I had been thinking before he sat across from me? Maybe this will work after all.

  Nevertheless, I wasn’t expecting him to say that. I truly believe what he said, but it’s not every day you meet someone who is so willing to say the things no one else will out loud. We go back and forth for a while asking the mundane questions that any stranger would ask someone they just met. He goes on to tell me he has lived in California all his life and currently has an apartment down the street from here. He has a younger brother, James, who just started college, and they both grew up with their dad. I don’t miss how he leaves out his mom, but I decide not to bring it up.

  I divulge a little about growing up with my parents in Tennessee, but I don’t go into the details. I tell him all about my friendship with Emily. She’s currently planning her wedding to her fiancé, Bryan. She’s amazing. We’ve been friends since freshmen year of college and have been inseparable. That was until she moved an hour away. I understand, though. She has to live her own life, and I have to live mine. Or at least attempt to navigate through it.

  I know I’m holding back a lot, but I don’t know much about Ryan. I know I’ll be spilling my secrets to him one day, but that day is not today.

  “Are you going to the meeting tomorrow?” he asks suddenly.

  “Oh, I guess.” I shrug my shoulders.

  “I think you should. In the beginning, it helps to have people around you who are going through the same struggles as you. The meetings are every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. I’ll go with you to every meeting you attend.”

  “Um, I can do that.” It sounds overwhelming to go to a meeting four times a week and listen to people talk about the days when they would get drunk and high. Talk about depressing, but I know I need to do this. I have to do this.

  “We’ll take it one day at a time. Don’t worry; I’ll be with you every step of the way.” He picks up his coffee cup and stands from the booth. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” I slip on my zip-up sweatshirt before standing.

  “I want to.” He stretches his arm out to his side and says, “Lead the way.”

  We head outside and wander down the sidewalk that leads all the way to my apartment building. I draw my sweatshirt close to my body and cross my arms from the cold breeze in the night air. It was a beautiful day outside today with the perfect weather in the mid-seventies, but without the warm rays of the shining sun, the breeze is a lot colder.

  “The meeting is at seven, so I’ll meet you there.”

  I nod while making a right turn into my complex. Ryan looks around curiously, as we step up to my building. I stop before making my way up the stairs to my apartment door. Like I said, I don’t know the guy. He could be an axe murderer. “This is me.” I gesture to the building behind me.

  “This is where you live?” he looks around in amusement.

  “Yes, why?” I stare at him, confused by his question when I clearly stated this is where I live. Does it not live up to his standards? It’s not a magnificent apartment, but it’s safe and the perfect location.

  He scratches his head and brings his attention back to me. “I live here, too.”

  “What?” I croak out a little lou
der than I intended.

  “I moved in two months ago. I live on the first floor of this building.” He points beyond the staircase to the second apartment door on the right.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” This is too much of a coincidence. How does my sponsor end up being the guy with a touching story, who got me to admit to being an alcoholic out loud, who also lives in the same building as me?

  “Nope.” He chuckles under his breath. “Look at it this way, if you’re ever having a bad moment, I can be at your door in less than a minute.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” I mumble. “I live on the second floor.” I place my hand on the railing, ready to run into the comfort of my apartment.

  “Do you want to go to the meeting together?” he suggests.

  “Sure.” I’m definitely not getting out of it now, even if I wanted to.

  After talking to Ryan for two hours combined with a shit-tastic day at work, I’m emotionally spent. I do have to admit he’s easy to talk to, but I’m completely and utterly over this day.

  “I’ll meet you down here at 6:30 sharp.” He begins to walk away, and I take the opportunity to make my escape up the stairs as fast and quietly as I can.

  “Okay, bye,” I yell before I open my front door and slam it shut behind me.

  I lean against the back of the door and slide all the way down to the floor. I sit there for thirty minutes before I pick myself up and fall face first on my bed.

  FOUR

  Oh my God! My eyes snap open, and I prop myself on both of my elbows. My chest heaves from my rapid breathing and the erratic beating of my heart. A sheen of sweat covers my whole body that would be glistening if a light were on. I squeeze my eyes closed for a minute before I drop myself back onto my bed.