She heard Jasmine in the kitchen around lunch time and decided to join her. Jasmine gave her a bright smile when she entered. “I’m making egg salad. Want some?”
“Absolutely. I’ll eat anything you make. Declan was right, you’re an amazing cook.”
Jasmine batted her eyes and smiled. “I just like to play around.”
“Uh huh,” Rachel said sarcastically.
Jasmine gave Rachel a sidelong look. “You seem just a smidge more … chipper today.”
“I feel a smidge more chipper.”
“Hey, that’s great!”
“Yeah, it is. It really is.”
“Work’s been all right for you the last couple days?”
“Better than it had been, yes. And today I am almost looking forward to work, if you can believe it.”
“Now that is a major improvement. Amen.”
Rachel smiled. “Thanks.”
Jasmine squirted mayonnaise and dijon into the bowl of mashed egg, then sliced off a ring of red onion and began to dice it. “So, you’re still coming to AA with me after lunch, right?”
Rachel bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. Not sure how I feel about it, though.”
“Just remember you’re not committing to coming forever.”
Rachel poured them each a glass of water. “What was your mind-set when you went the first time? Did you anticipate going regularly or were you just checking it out?”
Jasmine smirked. “I didn’t have a choice, actually. My parents basically drove me there and walked me to the door. If I hadn’t agreed to go, they’d have stopped paying for college.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
“I was twenty and stupid and thought they were overreacting. I would go to the meetings and sit in the back listening to music on my phone. I didn’t participate or pay any attention at all, but they didn’t know that, so I figured we were all happy.” She rolled her eyes, dumping the diced onion into the bowl and then adding a dash of paprika. “I was still drinking—they just didn’t know it. But then I nearly got myself killed while driving drunk. Off I went to rehab, and then AA again, but this time I was listening. My mentor is the one who led me to Christ.”
“Wow. Heck of a story.” Questions filled her mind, but she didn’t want to intrude on Jasmine’s privacy. “So … how long have you been sober?”
“Um …” She stopped mixing and counted on her fingers for a moment. “Four years, three months, and seventeen days.”
Rachel laughed. “Wow, down to the day, huh?”
“It’s a big accomplishment for me. I started drinking when I was twelve.”
“Twelve?!”
“Alcohol was imbibed very freely in my family. It was easy to find and no one minded if I took a sip of their wine or beer or whatever, just to try it out. But no one else has an actual addiction. They can all take it or leave it—in fact, ever since I went into rehab, they’ve all stopped drinking when I’m home, and my mom told me she barely drinks at all anymore; it just doesn’t appeal to her.” She crumbled a strip of bacon into the mix and followed it with a spoonful of sour cream. “I, on the other hand, can’t even keep wine in the house to cook with, which makes some recipes a bit difficult. I’ve occasionally had Leah run down to a neighbor to beg off whatever amount I need for a dish. It’s that hard for me.”
“Even after four years?”
“Four years is less than half the time I spent drinking before going to rehab. I still get a pretty decent-sized craving once a week or so.”
“So what do you do then?” Rachel had had a pretty decent-sized craving, albeit only a mental one, nearly every day since coming home. The only thing that had stopped her from running for the liquor store had been the omnipresence of the house church gang. Once she’d started back at the café, it had been her fear of letting Ruby Jean down and losing her job. But she worried that she’d break one of these days.
“It depends. If I’m home, I try to go for a run, or pop in an exercise video, or play my violin for a while. Keeping myself busy helps get my mind off it. If I’m in class and I can’t stop thinking about it, I just start praying like a madwoman. Sometimes I’ll text my mentor, or call her if I can. She’s really good at talking me down.”
She pulled two rolls from the fridge and ripped them open, then placed them in the toaster oven. “The first meeting I went to after rehab, when I was actually in the right frame of mind about it all, I was so scared. I was afraid I would never stay sober, that no one would ever understand how hard it was for me, or that I’d never find a mentor because they’d all think I was a hopeless cause. But Nell—that’s my mentor—came up to me right away and took me under her wing. She told me later she recognized the fear on my face because she’d felt the same way when she’d first gone. She was ten years sober then and helping to run the meetings.”
“Will she be there today?”
Jasmine shook her head. “No—I moved out here last year from New York. She’s back in Floral Park, leading a women’s-only group.”
“Women’s only—is that what today’s meeting will be?”
“No, there isn’t one that meets at this time, but it’s not a big deal. My parents were more concerned about it being women’s only when I was younger. But everyone’s really friendly—either that or they just keep to themselves. You’ll see.”
They left after lunch, catching a bus and riding for ten minutes before disembarking at a Presbyterian church. Rachel followed Jasmine’s lead and served herself coffee before taking a seat in the circle of chairs and was relieved by how friendly most of the other attendees were. Many knew Jasmine by name and encouraged Rachel to start coming more often.
The meeting was not what she had expected. No smoke-filled room, no silly rituals. Just people talking about where they were on their journey, admitting when they’d fallen and offering support to each other.
The one element that really gripped her came during a testimonial. A woman not much older than Rachel had been sharing her story when she’d made a comment that flipped a switch in her mind. “I know not everyone here relies on the God I rely on as their higher power. I didn’t rely on him, either, for the first two years of my attempts at sobriety. But I kept falling off the wagon, or taking giant, willful leaps off the back of it, and I blamed the program because I thought it should work better than it did. But when I stopped praying to some nameless higher power and started praying to the one true God, that’s when things really began to change. That was three years, nine months, and twenty-eight days ago.”
The remark felt like yet another attempt by God to get her attention. She’d been mostly ignoring the spiritual discussions Leah and the others got into, trying not to think too hard about the conversation she and Leah had the day she’d come home from the hospital and generally shoving aside any thoughts about God. But it felt like each instance was another rock hurled at her fragile defenses. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out.
The group had closed with the Serenity Prayer, recited on their feet with their heads bowed. Rachel didn’t know the words well enough to recite them, but she took a chance and took them to heart. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change”—I can’t change what happened, or the things I’ve gone through, or the fact that I’m apparently an alcoholic, so I’m going to stop whining about them—“courage to change the things I can”—I think I want to give it another shot with you, God. I’m not 100 percent sure, and I might go home and totally change my mind on this, but right now, anyway, I think I want to try—“and wisdom to know the difference”—There are things I can’t fix, so you’re going to have to help me let them go and give them to you, because I’ve really gotten used to trying to do it on my own, despite the lousy job I was doing of it.
When she’d pulled on her coat, her eye caught the edge of her tattoo peeking out from beneath her sweater sleeve. Freedom.
Maybe. She’d followed Jasmine from the church, her heart feeling lighter than it had
in a long time. Maybe.
o
“So how was AA?” Leah tossed Rachel the bag of marshmallows and leaned her skewer toward the fireplace. “If you want to talk about it, that is. If you don’t, that’s cool.”
Rachel pushed a marshmallow onto her own skewer and dropped the bag beside her. “It was … interesting. I’m really glad I went.”
“That’s good. Think you’ll go back?”
Rachel knew from looking at the materials Jasmine had picked up for her that they recommended attending ninety meetings in ninety days. “I might. To do it like they say you should is a big commitment.”
“It’s a big addiction.”
“True.” Rachel slowly turned her skewer over the fire. “I didn’t know they talked so much about God there. It took me by surprise. I feel like, since I’ve been back from the hospital, God’s been following me like a lost puppy, nipping on my heels and trying to get me to pick him up.”
Leah laughed. “That’s an interesting metaphor.”
“Well, it’s true.” Rachel grinned. “Today was another example. This woman got up and talked about how she didn’t start to really improve until she stopped relying on a ‘higher power’ and started relying on God. I nearly wanted to just stand up and say, ‘Okay, point taken. Leave me alone now.’”
“He’s a persistent fellow when he wants to be.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
Rachel sighed, watching the shell of the marshmallow brown and bubble. “I don’t think I can not believe in him. Which means I have to figure out if I’m going to admit he’s there and just ignore him, or else give in and start trying to figure out how to follow him again. And given how he keeps popping up everywhere, I have a feeling ignoring him is going to be difficult.”
Leah chuckled. “Crazy puppy.”
“Seriously!” Rachel laughed, but sobered quickly. “Part of me feels … I don’t know, intruded upon. Like he wants me back so he thinks he can just bug me until I relent. How rude is that? But then I remember this is God I’m talking about, and if he is who the Bible says he is, then he pretty much has that right. And then I feel sort of flattered—like, God’s pestering me because he … he loves me?” She pulled off the marshmallow and thought as she chewed. She thought back to the last time she was in a worship service in California. She was amazed by God’s love then, too. But she couldn’t believe how differently she had viewed him. Somehow—thanks in part to Leah and, she hated to admit it, thanks in part to recent events—her perspective was taking a new shape. God’s love had once seemed to Rachel like a report card for a job well done. But she could no longer rest on her laurels, and yet now, God’s love seemed even bigger. Still, questions lingered.
“I still sometimes get frustrated and think, ‘Well, if he loved me, why didn’t he make it clear to me earlier that I wasn’t on the right page?’” She shook her head. “It’s a never-ending cycle of questions that I can’t seem to break out of.”
Leah blew out the flame that had engulfed her marshmallow and pulled the charred mess from the skewer. “It’s not an easy question to answer. But I honestly believe that if you trust him—just go for it—he’ll sort it out for you. It might take time, it might be a frustrating experience, but I’d bet that he’s using every minute of it for growth and good, you know?”
Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Just go for it—that’s what I pretty much decided to do this afternoon at the meeting. You read my mind.”
Leah wiggled her fingers. “Spooky.”
They finished their roasting and said good-night, disappearing into their own rooms. Rachel was restless, tired but not yet willing to go to sleep. She sat for a moment on the bed, contemplating what to do, when her eyes fell on the small box of items she still had not unpacked from her move. She sat on the floor and pulled open the box, knowing it contained knickknacks she hadn’t known what to do with when she’d first arrived. Now having seen how the other three women placed personal items on the bookshelves and mantel, she thought she might do the same.
When she opened the box, the first thing she saw was a skirt she’d found beneath her bed while packing. She pulled it out and felt something hard in the pocket beneath her fingers.
Tears sprung to her eyes as she pulled out the cross and chain she’d stuffed in there the day she’d moved. She felt her defenses crumble a little more as she opened the chain and wrapped it around her neck. Was she ready to wear it again?
She connected the chain and sat still, feeling the familiar weight of the pendant on her chest. All right, then. Have it your way.
Epilogue
February
Rachel stared out the window at the snow on the mountains below. It was beautiful, but blinding; after a moment she lowered the shade and pulled her laptop from her carry-on, wondering if she’d be able to get anything done when her mind was so scrambled with nerves. She opened the document titled “Lost Days” and reread the last few paragraphs to refresh her memory. It wasn’t bad, what little she had written so far. She still didn’t know what she’d do with it when she was done, but she was having a good time writing again. She opened another document containing a plot outline and checked for her next scene, then began to type.
“Wow, your fingers really fly.” The young woman beside her smiled, looking impressed. “Do you do a lot of typing for your job?”
“Not my job, just my hobby. I’m trying to write a book.”
“Oh cool! I love to read. What’s it about?”
Rachel faltered. “It’s, um … well, it’s about a woman who—”
The plane dipped and shook as it hit a pocket of turbulence. The woman cursed through clenched teeth, her face turning white. When the aircraft stabilized the woman blew out a deep breath, looking suddenly haggard. “I hate flying.”
Rachel slowly released her grip on the armrest and relaxed her hold on her laptop. “I didn’t until just now.”
The woman pushed the attendant call button. “I need a drink or I’m never going to make it to California.”
Rachel sucked in a breath. Oh no.
The attendant came by and the woman asked for a Bloody Mary, then turned to Rachel. “Want something? My treat.”
God, give me strength. “Just—just another Coke. Thanks.”
The attendant brought the drinks and Rachel shot one prayer after another to heaven, begging God to remove her craving. The woman gulped down half her drink, then sighed. “That hit the spot. Usually I try to grab a couple drinks before I get on the plane, but my stupid taxi was late to the house, and I barely made it to the gate on time.”
Rachel searched for a way to change the subject. “You fly a lot, by the sounds of it.”
“No, only a couple times a year. But that’s plenty for me.” The woman took another sip, then glanced down at Rachel’s laptop. “So, before we nearly died you were telling me about your book.”
“Oh, right. Well, it’s about a woman who loses everything and goes on a spiritual journey, looking for peace. I’m not trying to get published or anything—at least, not yet. This is just practice.”
“That’s awesome. I wish I could write. I read an article about one of my favorite authors once, and she talked about writing what you know. That totally wouldn’t work for me—my life is so dead boring.”
Rachel chuckled. “Yeah, I had that problem for a while, too.”
“For a while? Then what happened?”
She smiled. “I lost everything and went on a spiritual journey.”
A voice on the intercom announced they were approaching LAX. Rachel handed her empty cup to the attendant, then stashed her laptop back in her bag. Her stomach began to churn with nerves as she thought about seeing her parents for the first time in so long. She’d never been away from them for more than a few weeks, and now she felt like they were all—them and her—completely different people. Her parents’ recommitment ceremony was tomorrow, Valentine’s Day, and she was
reading a poem her mother had chosen as a surprise for her father. She was worried she wouldn’t be able to get through it without crying. At least there wouldn’t be any booze at the party to tempt her afterward—with both she and her father in AA, that decision had been easy for her parents to make.
As they began their decent, Rachel’s craving grew stronger. To occupy her mind she pulled out Jasmine’s copy of the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions and opened to her bookmark. She was working on step number nine—making amends to people she had wronged. A Post-it note on the page listed the people she’d been writing letters to. Some of the names were crossed out already—Ruby Jean, Jack, and Daphne, whose letter she had dropped into the mail without an address. Her parents’ names were the last ones on the list; she’d be presenting a formal apology later that evening over dinner.
The plane landed, and Rachel turned her phone on and sent a new text to Declan. Just landed. Flight was fine.
Less than a minute later he replied. 4362.
She frowned, fingers typing. What?
Minutes till u r back.
She laughed to herself. LOL Miss u 2.
The line of people began to move. Rachel pulled her bag from the storage space and entered the stream, shuffling along with the others as they made their way off the plane. She bid her seatmate farewell as they disembarked and pulled her carry-on behind her through the terminal. She was halfway to the baggage claim when a familiar face came into view just ahead of her.
“Barb?”
Her old friend stopped and turned, and a smile broke out on her face. “Rachel!” With a laugh she ran over and wrapped her arms around Rachel’s neck. “I can’t believe you’re here. How random is that?”
Reinventing Rachel Page 28