The Christmas Promise(41)

The guy shrugged. “They think enough of it to let us come back each week.” A man started to talk behind them and the guy in the turtleneck motioned for Matt to sit. The room was set up in two semicircle rows of metal chairs. Matthew sat in the second row, behind a post and next to the cumbersome air ducts, hoping no one would notice him. He slunk down and studied what lay beneath his fingernails.

The room hummed with chatter as it filled to over fifty people. There were mechanics and bank presidents, beauticians and corporate trainers. They wore suits, flannel, scrubs, silk, khakis, and blue jeans, and ranged in age from teenagers to a seventy-seven-year-old man. They were a diverse bunch. By all appearances they had nothing in common save one thing. They wanted a new way to live.

A gruff man in a denim shirt and jeans brought the meeting to order. “My name’s Lukas and I’m an alcoholic.” Everyone greeted him, and Matt leaned over on his knees, feeling awkward and obvious and embarrassed to be there. An older man walked in late and sat next to him, but Matthew didn’t look at him. Lukas read about community from the AA Big Book. He opened the floor for discussion, and within seconds the room was buzzing.

A man named Coley took the floor. “When I look back, I know that I’m capable of repeating anything I’ve ever done, and that scares me to death,” he said. A few members nodded and Matthew leaned over in his seat to hear Coley over the heating system. “For the longest time I thought life had to be lived up here where everything is exciting and you do what you want, when you want. But as much as I tried that I’d end up down here, just scraping along. Now I know that life’s good right here in the middle.” He smiled and threw his hand in the air, indicating that he was done.

The conversation ricocheted from person to person for thirty minutes without a break, when the man next to Matthew cleared his throat.

“Hello, Frank,” the members said when he introduced himself.

“I’ve been sober for twenty years this month,” Frank said. The room erupted in applause. “When I first started coming to these meetings a man spoke up and said, ‘We’re as sick as the secrets we keep.’” Matthew turned to look at him. “My addiction was private, and as a man I wanted to be able to fix myself in private but I couldn’t. Pain’s a great motivator. We weren’t meant to be isolated. We need each other. That’s why I come here.”

Around it went for another twenty minutes before Lukas took control again and somebody gave out “sobriety chips.” Tim got a thirty-day chip, and Frank received one for twenty years. When the meeting ended, Matthew avoided the other people and raced up the stairs to the street. It was snowing again, and he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and zipped his coat up to his neck. Words from the meeting flew through his mind. I brought on a lot of chaos in my life, Tim had said. I hated what I had become, a woman in her fifties had said. A dusting of snow blew across the sidewalk and Matthew walked faster. He heard a truck, and turned when it slowed down next to him. It was Frank.

“Need a lift?”

“I’m headed to the Lexington Apartments,” Matt said.

“I go right by there,” Frank said, stopping. Matt slid in and closed the door. “I’m Frank,” he said, extending his hand. “First meeting?” Matthew nodded. “The steps work if you work them.”

Matthew stared out the window. “What if you can’t get through them?”

“Then they don’t work.”

“It’s not easy, is it?” Matt said.

“Adult problems are never easy,” Frank said. “Seems someone along the way should tell us that. Have a little graduation ceremony or something.”

“What if I’m not sure if I really have a problem?”

“Anybody suggest you come to this meeting?” Matt shook his head. “Anybody force you to come? Court ordered?” Matthew looked at him. “You came on your own?” Matt nodded and watched out the window as Fred Clauson spread salt on the sidewalk in front of Wilson’s. “Then you’re sure you have a problem.” Matt liked Frank. He was blunt but kind.

“It seemed pretty raw back there,” Matt said.

“They’re the most honest people you’ll ever be around,” Frank said. He looked over at Matt. “So why’d you come?”

“I left home when I was seventeen, right before my father died,” Matt said. “Drinking helped…”

“Numb the shame?”

Matthew nodded. “For months I haven’t been able to put a thought together in my head. I was losing ground every time I turned around, but I couldn’t stop—I couldn’t stop anything I was doing. I found my mother and thought…” His eyes filled with tears and he turned away.