Chapter 14 - Natalie, the girlfriend

The next steps after posting the last few chapters are one more editing pass (both to trim and add stuff), then find a real editor to make things pop. Almost there, though

[Link to Chapter 1 (Beginning of Book)]

[Link to Chapter 13 (Previous Chapter)]

“Hi, everyone. My name is Archer. This is my first time here.”

“Hi, Archer,” the circle mutters. Ten-ish morose addicts in folding chairs. One woman, a little on the older side, who looks like a lifetime of sun, cigarettes, and Wal-Mart shifts. One man in a suit clearly trying to set himself apart. The rest in various costumes, dressed as regular people on the path to recovery.

“I’m going to be honest with all of you,” I say. “I know honesty is a big deal here.”

So is not drinking, allegedly, but I polished off half a bottle of whiskey with a girl last night. Details.

“I’m here because a court is making me be here. It’s a condition for keeping joint custody of my daughter. I need Jim over there,” I nod at Jim, who barely stands out from the regulars except for his moustache, “our resident sponsor, to sign off that I’m present and progressing.”

I wonder if the THC gummy I took this morning counts as progress. It’s non-alcoholic.

I roll my shoulders. “That shouldn’t be too hard,” I continue. “The last time I was drunk was years ago. It was my birthday. I was fighting with my then-wife, we were at a local distillery with friends, and I had a few more whiskey drinks than normal. I didn’t do anything bad. Just visibly intoxicated in front of our friends, neighbors, and worst of all my daughter. It was super-embarrassing, and definitely not appropriate in front of the kid.”

I guess my story must be more interesting than the usual introductions. A few faces twitch toward me. Jim frowns.

“I know. This isn’t the type of thing I’m supposed to be saying. It’s what an alcoholic in denial would say, right?”

I shrug. “When my ex filed for divorce, she brought up that incident. I admitted to it. I thought being honest and straightforward with the judge would help. Then she and her lawyer spun a tale about habitual alcohol use, hidden drunkenness, me as a functioning alcoholic somehow holding down a job while being a terrible husband and father.”

“I explained to the judge that none of that was accurate. But I’d already admitted to a previous incident. And nobody believes a drunk.” I pause and glance around, hoping for nods. Or at least some reaction. Nothing.

“So I’m required to be here.” I hold up both hands and add, “It’s fine. I was annoyed at first. Being treated like a liar never feels great. But in the spirit of honesty and using this opportunity to better myself, I started jogging more, and I’ve been sober since the court order.”

Sober enough to remember most nights, anyway.

I lean back in my chair, figuring it’s probably someone else’s turn to talk, but Jim speaks up, “If you’re comfortable, Archer, why don’t you share how sobriety has been for you so far? And what led to that last time you drank that had consequences?”

I nod. That’s a great idea. I love talking about myself. It gets me out of listening to boring people. These people look especially bored.