“I know. I appreciate that.”
“What are you looking for today, son?” Biggs asked. “What can we do to help you through this?”
Quincy sat back and said, “When I was growing up, other kids talked about what it was like to be with their parents, and I never understood their feelings of comfort or the sense of reassurance they gained from just watching television with them or having family dinners where they talked about their days. But thanks to you two, I get it now. I guess I needed to hear that I was doing the right thing by giving her space, letting my past breathe its fire between us, and waiting to see if she wants to walk through it with me.” He brushed his lips over Axel’s forehead. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate just sitting here for a bit, talking or not. It feels good to know I’m welcome.”
Red wiped her eyes and said, “Now I want to call that little lady and plead your case for you.”
They all laughed, unraveling the tightness in Quincy’s chest just enough to fit in a little more hope.
Chapter Ten
THE HOPE QUINCY had taken away from his time with Biggs and Red had remained strong as Monday bled into Tuesday, but when Tuesday gave way to Wednesday and he still hadn’t heard from Roni, that hope began to fray. By the time Wednesday evening rolled around, he told himself that Roni was probably done with him, but no matter how hard he tried to accept it, he just couldn’t. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury of being distracted tonight. The NA meeting was starting in ten minutes, and he needed to be fully present for the other people in that room who counted on him. This would always be a big part of his life. A tug-of-war where drug dealers preyed on the weak, and Quincy tried to impart enough strength to those in recovery—and to himself—to make it through another day, another week, another year, becoming stronger with every passing hour. How could he have expected Roni to understand when she’d escaped the claws of the drug world without ever faltering and filled her life with music, dance, and happiness?
“I ran into a friend I grew up with the other day,” Simone said, drawing Quincy from his thoughts. She looked good, less nervous and more confident than she was last week. “Her roommate is moving out after the holidays, and she offered to rent the room to me.”
“Is she someone you ever partied with?”
“No, but I was honest with her about where I am in my recovery, and she’s supportive. She doesn’t drink or use drugs. I think by then I’ll be ready to be out of the shelter and be on my own.”
“That’s good, but is the apartment in Parkvale or in Peaceful Harbor?”
“Parkvale.”
Quincy gritted his teeth. “Sims, you know that if you leave the shelter and stay in Parkvale, you’ll be out from under the protection of the Dark Knights. Have you heard anything from Puck or his guys?”
She fidgeted with the seam on her jeans and said, “No, but I know he’s watching me. I can feel it. What about you? He called you my pretty boy sponsor the night he showed up at the shelter. I bet he’s watching you, too.”
“I haven’t seen him around, and I don’t think he’ll come over the bridge into Dark Knights’ territory. I want to be supportive of you moving out, and I think it’s great that you’re doing so well. But have you considered moving to this area? I’m sure you can find a job here.”
As much as Quincy would like to help her find a job in Peaceful Harbor, she had to take those steps herself, at least for now. When Quincy had started running NA meetings, he’d asked Biggs if the Dark Knights could help find people in recovery jobs and housing. But after a long discussion about the realities of recovery, they’d agreed that because of the nature of the beast, and in an effort to keep Biggs’s business associates and Peaceful Harbor safe, they would help only after completion of rehab plus six months of commitment to the NA program.
“It would cost me twice as much to live here,” Simone said, and she was right. The Harbor was a lot more expensive than Parkvale. “And I can’t live at the shelter forever.”
“I get that, but you never know. It might be worth asking around.”
“I will. I promise.” She pushed her curls out of her eyes, and they sprang right back into them.
“Can’t ask for more than that. Come on. I have to get the meeting started.”
He called the meeting to order, and everyone took a seat around the circle. They began with a moment of silence, and after the readings and announcements, Quincy asked if anyone would like to share.
Jacob, a clean-cut guy in his early thirties, said, “I’d like to.”
Quincy nodded.
Jacob remained seated, as they did when they had a small group, and said, “I’m Jacob—” The door opened, and he paused.
“Sorry.”
Quincy spun around in his chair, and the air rushed from his lungs. Roni was walking tentatively toward the group. He pushed to his feet and said, “Excuse me for one second,” quickly closing the distance between them.
“Hi,” she said softly, gazing eagerly at him from behind her glasses. “Sorry for interrupting.”
“It’s okay. It’s good to see you. I want to talk with you, but I can’t during the meeting.”
“I know. I’m here for the meeting. I read online that it was an open meeting.” There were open and closed NA meetings. Open meetings were open to anyone interested in finding out about the program, while closed meetings were for only those who identify themselves as addicts or believe they might have a drug problem.
Quincy couldn’t believe his ears, or that she’d researched the meeting. “It’s an open meeting, but I don’t understand.”
“How can I truly understand what you’ve been through and the challenges you’ll face unless I’ve spent time in your world?”
She smiled briefly and hurried to one of the empty seats, apologizing to the group for interrupting, as if she hadn’t just blown him away. He returned to his seat, trying to shake off his shock and feeling like the luckiest son of a bitch on earth.
“Hi, I’m Jacob,” Jacob said to Roni. Then to the group, he said, “I’ve been clean for forty-one days. I got hooked on oxys after I injured my back playing football with my buddies. Things went from bad to worse, and you all know how that goes.” He wrung his hands. “My wife and I have been together since we were fifteen. We’ve got two little girls, and we’re both committed to my staying clean…”
As Jacob talked, Quincy stole a glance at Roni. She was listening intently to Jacob. He couldn’t believe she was actually there. He didn’t know what it meant to her, but the fact that she’d shown up in support of him, and of her own accord, meant everything to him.
“I’m a real estate agent, which means I’m on the road showing houses and meeting with clients,” Jacob said. “I think we all know that when someone has gotten clean and then starts using again, the first thing they do is cut off communication with the people supporting them. My wife is all too familiar with me disappearing for days on end. But she’s checking up on me too much. If I’m supposed to be showing a house and I don’t answer my phone, she drives by wherever I’m supposed to be. I know she’s doing it because she loves me and she’s scared I’ll use again, but it’s making me crazy. I’ve asked her to attend Nar-Anon, but she’s too embarrassed. It’s a stressful situation.” He looked pleadingly at Quincy. “I know no one is supposed to offer suggestions or comments when we share, but I love my wife, and I’d really appreciate help figuring out how to handle this.”
“Of course. Thank you, Jacob.” Quincy looked at the others and said, “It’s important to remember that recovery is as hard for friends and family as it is for the person going through it. Jacob’s wife wants to support him, and that’s crucial to his recovery, and it’s only natural for her to look for the red flags she may have missed the last time around. It’s also reasonable that Jacob is frustrated by that. You can see the vicious cycle. Frustration can lead to needing an escape, which can lead to using again, and the pisser is that she’s trying to keep him f
rom using.”
“I’ve told her all of that, which is why I wish she’d join a support group so she can hear it from someone else. Maybe then she’d understand it,” Jacob said.
“I agree that’s the best route,” Quincy said. “But we’re the ones who used drugs, and we have to understand that it’s perfectly reasonable for our loved ones and friends to be uncomfortable or embarrassed attending support meetings. They may feel shame, like our drug use was a personal affront, that they weren’t enough to keep us clean, or we didn’t love them enough. They may even feel like they drove us to it, pushed us to the brink. They’re hurt and angry that you would risk your family’s foundation for something they don’t understand. If you and those around you haven’t already experienced being embarrassed by your drug use, chances are you all will at some point. Jacob is doing the right thing by asking for help. The reason this group is here, the reason the program works, is because we help each other through all aspects of recovery. When someone wants to support you and either doesn’t know how, or needs a more private way to handle it, there are alternatives like attending meetings outside of your hometown or utilizing online support groups. I can recommend books on the subject after the meeting, and of course, Jacob, your wife, or anyone else, can come talk to me before or after any meeting.”
“Thank you. I’ll suggest all of those things to her,” Jacob said.
Quincy looked at Roni, still unable to believe she was there, and said, “Before the next person shares, when a new person joins the group, they usually introduce themselves. Would you like to tell the group your name?”
Roni sat up straighter, looking beautiful and nervous in a cream sweater and brown jacket, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. “Hi, I’m Roni. I’ve never used drugs, but the man I’m dating is two years into his recovery.”
Holy shit.
She fidgeted with her purse in her lap as their eyes met, and she said, “I’m just starting to read about and learn what recovery really means, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared out of my mind about the possibility of him relapsing.”
Oh, baby, I know you are, and I will never let you down.
“But I trust him,” she said, holding his gaze. “And I want things to work.” She looked at the others, her eyes lingering on Simone for a moment. “So I’m here to learn, and I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay. Thank you,” Quincy said, his voice so thick with emotion, he was sure everyone else heard it too.
“Maybe you can talk to my wife,” Jacob joked.
As the others welcomed her, Quincy futilely tried to tamp down the hope consuming him. When their eyes met again, sending his pulse skyrocketing, he gave up trying to rein in anything and reveled in the fact that Roni believed in him, and she was there, making a big fucking effort for them.
RONI HAD BEEN so scared to walk into the meeting, she’d had to take a minute outside before entering. She hadn’t realized it until she’d sat down, but she’d assumed the people there would remind her of the people she’d grown up around, dirty and maybe even drugged out, which made no sense given that this was a meeting for people who were in recovery. But fear was a powerful thing, and it had strange effects on people’s minds.
Fear also did wonderful things, like plaguing Roni at the idea of not having a chance for something more with Quincy. She’d felt totally off-kilter these last few days, and she’d missed him desperately. Before they’d started seeing each other, going days without receiving a text from him had been difficult. But after getting to know him, after kissing him and being held by him, every day without that connection was pure torture. She hated knowing she’d caused Quincy angst while she figured out what to do, but she was glad she’d taken the time to think. The minute she’d spotted him across the room, all those tangles inside her had started to unfurl, and she’d felt like she could finally breathe again.
She’d quickly recognized the girl that she and Angela had seen at the bookstore and learned her name was Simone. As she listened to the stories of the people in the meeting, she was in awe of their honesty and fortitude to make it through the horrible situations they described. She didn’t like thinking about Quincy having been in any of those situations, but she needed to accept the truth and find ways to support him. As he ended the meeting, and they all stood up and held hands, saying the Serenity Prayer, she was even more in awe of Quincy. He’d put himself into every minute of the meeting, talking out situations thoughtfully and tactfully, giving guidance, hope, and strength, where so many other people—shamefully, her included until now—would turn away, maybe even run in the opposite direction, rather than offer a hand to pull these people across the rocky gorge between addiction and recovery.
She’d thought she was falling for him before, but that was nothing compared to how she felt now, having seen past his loving heart, right through to his generous soul.
Members exchanged hugs and thanked Roni for coming to the meeting. She stood off to the side while Quincy spoke with a few of them, and she noticed Simone heading her way. Roni was a little embarrassed because of how Angela had questioned her the other day, and she could tell that Simone recognized her.
“Am I right in assuming Quincy is your boyfriend?” Simone asked with a friendly smile.
“Yes. Was I that obvious?”
“I noticed it in Quincy’s eyes the second he saw you. I think it’s great that you came to support him and learn about recovery.”
“Thank you. I have a lot to learn, and I’m not sure of the best way to support him, but I figured this was a start.”
“You’re doing exactly what he needs. He’s done the hardest part, and he’s making a real life for himself, surrounded by good people. Just letting him know you care and you understand what it means to be with him will help.”
“Thanks, Simone. I’m sorry about how my friend acted toward you the other day. Angela has been my best friend for a long time. She’s very protective of me.” Angela had apologized to Roni yesterday for coming down hard on her about Quincy’s past, and although she was still nervous about it, she’d been supportive ever since. She’d even talked to Joey about him, and Joey had told her that everyone had baggage and that Roni should trust her heart, which was exactly what Roni had decided to do.
“That’s okay,” Simone said. “Now more than ever I realize those are the type of friends you want on your side. The ones who will do the things to protect you that you might not do yourself. If not for Quincy, I wouldn’t have made it this far.”
Roni stole a glance at Quincy and said, “Did you know him when he used drugs?”
“Yes, on and off. It’s a strange life when you’re an addict. You don’t have friends. You have people who can find you your next hit. Quincy was the only person who would ask after me and stand up for me if a guy got rough. When I hit rock bottom, I came to him, and he helped me get into rehab and set up at the women’s shelter.”
“I’m glad he was able to help you.”
“Me too,” Simone said. “I know you said you were scared about what all of this means, and you should be. To ignore the seriousness of his past wouldn’t do any good for him or for you. Quincy’s a great guy, and I know he has a lot of supportive friends, but I’m really glad he has someone special in his life. He deserves to be happy, and it gives us all hope. Recovery is a hard road, and from what everyone has told me, finding someone who is willing to walk alongside you on that journey is rare.”
“Thank you. I hope one day you find that, too,” Roni said as the others headed for the door.
Quincy sauntered over with a curious and grateful look in his eyes, rousing those butterflies, and said, “Is Simone filling your head with lies about me?”
“I was just telling Roni that I think it’s great that she came to the meeting,” Simone explained. “You’re lucky, Gritt. Don’t screw this up.”
He smiled, and then his expression turned serious and he locked those clear blue eyes on R
oni. “I don’t intend to.”
“Good boy,” Simone said, pulling her coat on. “I have to get to the bus stop. It was nice meeting you, Roni. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Nice meeting you, too.” As Simone walked out, leaving them alone in the room, Roni said, “I saw her at the bookstore that day Angela and I stopped by.”
“So you were the chicks she told me about who had come in just to gawk at me.” He stepped closer, causing her temperature to spike, and said, “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you’d given up on me.”
“I didn’t, not for a second. I just needed time to put all the pieces into place before jumping in with both feet and putting my whole heart into us.” She touched his hand, needing the connection, and said, “You talked about feeling lost after Truman went to prison. I understand that. When I was hit by the car, I lost so much of myself, I didn’t know who I was or where I fit, but I still had Gram. Then I lost her, and I felt so alone. But you were there for me. I didn’t realize it then, but we were building more than a friendship for all those months. It’s scary to think I could lose you to drugs at any moment, but no part of me wants to walk away and lose out on what we were becoming. So if you can be patient with me as I learn about recovery and have questions or need reassurances, then I want this, Quincy. I want us. I want you.”
“Christ, baby.” He gathered her in his arms, holding her like she was all he’d ever wanted, and said, “I’ll be patient—”
The Gritty Truth Page 15