"Hello, my name if Frank. I'm an alcoholic and I've been sober for thirteen years, two months and sixteen days." I was shaking as I spoke. It has been exactly one year since I returned to my AA group. Throughout the last year I'd gone to no more than a handful of groups but knew today was a day I would not miss. No, I could not miss today; my life depended on me being able to stay sober, and believe me, I did want to drink!
"Hi Frank!" Everyone at the meeting replied then broke into applause. It felt good to be recognized by all of these strangers. It also felt good that I had resisted the urge to drink.
"Hey, Frank, do you want to tell us your story? It's been quite awhile since you've talked to us. Johnston was a burly man of about forty-five who had a Santa Clause belly that was housed in an off-white t-shirt. I never learned Johnston's full name and was happy keeping it that way. The anonymity of the group was what created a sense of safety and I was the last one who wanted to be uncomfortable, especially if I was about to talk.
I'd listened to hundreds of heartbreak stories over the years now it was my turn.
It had been more that a little while since I'd told my story, at least the story that caused me to return to AA. Until a year-ago-today I lead the idyllic life. No, it had been more than ideal. It was damn near perfect and that is probably why I nearly relapsed. There had been no warning of what was about to happen, no signs or cues. There had been no changes in behavior (on the part of my wife, Lois).
"Come on Frank! We know you're not here just for the coffee." Everyone laughed, mainly because the coffee is absolutely the worst. Yet everyone gets a cup before the sit down. Everyone drinks the coffee as if it was fresh from Starbucks or Peet's.
I hemmed and hawed like a little kid then realized it was time to tell the story.
"OK, OK, everyone sit down. Get your Kleenex out, or for you Johnston that might mean a roll of toilet paper." Everyone chuckled again knowing Johnston was not the time of guy to cry over anything.
"One year ago today . . . "I had to stop for just a minute as I realized today was actually one year exactly and that I was at the meeting for a very good reason. I needed to be with people and was scared shitless that I might need a drink to get through the night.
"As I said my story begins on Valentine's day last year. For those of you who don't know I work for the University down the road. No, I'm not a professor; I manage University recruitment and monitor subcontracts. I've been doing this for the last sixteen years and believe it was being able to work that has helped keep me sober for so long." I stopped to talk a sip of the now cold gut-wrenching coffee.
"This time of year the University recruitment is slow. We are anticipating freshman applications to begin arriving next month then my life will get crazy. We are expecting close to 17,000 freshman applications this year." I stopped talking for a moment when I heard someone cough, not your nicotine hack, but one of those "this-is-so-boring" coughs that tells you to get to the point or let someone else speak.
"Anyway, I had planned to work a half day on Valentine's Day, which would give me plenty of time to make it home early, surprise Lois with a few special gifts and then take her to dinner that evening. I was planning on taking her to the 4th Street Grill because the serve a wonderful pork loin that was one of Lois' favorites." My memories were so clear of that day that I wondered if I would actually be able to stay away from the alcohol. I was dreaming of a double martini served over the rocks with two of those green olives with pimento in the middle.
It is not good for an alcoholic to have such dreams! But they were the dreams that beckoned from someplace within my souls and I wanted to follow the call. Yes, I wanted to drown myself with the hopes of replacing that giant void that begins in your stomach, bypasses all other desire and slams the brain against the wall.
As I paused I was suddenly aware of, no sound. No one was coughing or shuffling their feet. I looked out into the group and noticed everyone looking right back at me. They were all recalling a similar story and were making my story their own story.
"So I left work early and picked up a dozen yellow roses, Lois had always been partial to yellow roses saying the red rose reminded her of blood, of something that had died. I always thought her preference of roses backwards knew that the yellow rose is usually displayed at funerals and red roses represented love. I didn't argue and got her what I knew she would like."
"Then I picked up the pearl necklace I'd purchased several months earlier but had left at the jewelers not wanting to risk Lois discovering the gift before, well before Valentine's Day. It was supposed to be a surprise, right?" The group was now deathly quiet. It frightened me as I listened to their silence. Yes, it was the respect thing but I also knew it was more. They knew my story before I had even finished telling it! Leave it to a bunch of alcoholics to have a reverse sense of empathy.
"I'd also ordered a champagne cake from the Tower Bakery, also one of Lois' favorites and had the card ready. The card contained the gooiest poetry I could find. Inside the card I noted that we had a dinner reservation for the 4th Street Grill at 6:30PM."
There was another reason Valentine's Day was so important for me. February 14 was the day we were engaged and it represented the twentieth Valentine's Day we would celebrate together. We hadn't been married that long but it was the day, in my mind, I'd chosen to do something special to recognize my love and appreciation for Lois.
"For those of you who don't know my wife is the one who stuck by me when I was drinking. She was also hard on me when my drinking got out of hand and I began to call in sick so I could drink. Lois is the one who made it clear she would divorce me if I didn't quit drinking. So when I did get sober and was able to stay sober, my life began to change all for the better." I needed to recognize how Lois had supported me though a very difficult time in my life, even if it hurt to even talk about her now.
"So, with my cake, pearls, card and yellow roses I headed home. I was happier than I'd ever been in my life and wanted nothing more than to share my love and appreciation for the woman who, in many ways, had saved my life. I felt, at that time, that I did owe her my life. That is why what happened next was so devastating." I had to take another sip of the coffee, my mouth was suddenly very dry and it was getting difficult to speak without my voice cracking.
"As I pulled up to our home I was stunned to see a man on our front porch holding Lois in his arms. They were kissing. It was a long kiss that told me they were swapping tongues. His hands were most likely on her ass and her arms were around his neck, so it was clear to me this was not just a friend saying hello-goodbye. It was the love-lock of a lover."
I heard someone from the back of the group say something like, ". . . would've killed the bitch!" I guess my story was touching a few nerves. I ignored the comment knowing telling the story was difficult enough.
"I sat in my car at the curb, unable to move, waiting for them to break the kiss. When that happened the man turned so I could see his face. He wore a pair of blue jeans with a checkered dress shirt that was not tucked in. I recognized him immediately. I think it might have been easier if I had not known the man. It instantly was a bit too personal and the humiliation was just as devastating."
"Then I noticed Lois was dressed in the green satin robe I'd given her a few years ago. It only took her a few seconds before she saw me sitting in my car, waiting. I'm not if she said anything because, between us, I don't think I heard anything at all, but I did notice that she slumped against the door frame and appeared to begin to cry." As I told the story from this point on I was crying. Not even a sip of the rot-gut coffee was going to help me now. A drink, maybe? No, not even alcohol was going to help me now.
"Without thinking I remember lowering the power window on the driver's side of the car, picking up the cake and letting it slip out of the pink box onto the curb and lawn. I can remember my actions being slow and deliberate. I did not throw anything from the window or yell and scream. I can remember wanting to make sure Lois saw and understood everything I was doing. Then the yellow roses were dropped out the window on top of the crushed champagne cake followed by the card that seemed to flutter to the ground. I couldn't see the card but imagined it getting stuck in the now sticky squished cake frosting." I stopped to wipe my eyes realizing for a moment it had been a years since I'd let myself truly grieve what I perceived, at that time, the end of my marriage.
"What about the pearls?" Someone from the audience asked. It was a woman's voice.
"They went out the window also. I wanted nothing that would remind me of how much I loved her. My gifts became nothing more than curbside trash, which was exactly where I believed my marriage to be. Trashed. I remember looking at Lois as I just sat there staring at her not knowing what else to say or do. Not being able to think clearly I started up my car and drove to a bar thinking I'd drown my sorrows and try and forget her. As some of you know I ended up here instead." There was another reason I ended up at the AA Meeting and it wasn't just because I needed the support to stay sober.
To this day, I still love Lois and am still grateful she came into my life. She was one of the reasons I got sober to begin with. She gave me the gift of sobriety and I was not going to lose everything because she betrayed me. But I was not going back to Lois.
The group was still quiet. Then there was another voice from the back of the group who asked, "What happened to Lois?"
"Don't know. When I drove away that afternoon I never went back to the house except to pick up a few personal belongings and I did that when I knew she wouldn't be home and I haven't seen her since. So that is my story and I thank everyone for listening." I'd had enough story-telling for one night I just wanted to go back to my little apartment and put my ass to bed. But I would be respectful and listen to everyone else who felt they needed support.
As I stepped down from the podium and returned to my chair everyone stood and clapped. Some came over and touched me on the shoulder saying things like "hang in there." A couple of people went out of their way to give me a hug. Having tried to forget what had happened a year and not sharing the story with anyone, not even my family; it did feel good to unload. It was a long overdue catharsis and it came from a group of strangers. Go figure.
Once the group finished with the Serenity Prayer repeated people began to file outside, some to stop for a cigarette before going home, Johnston stopped me. He was in the process of putting the pamphlets into a worn cardboard box he hauled to each.
