A Glass of Crazy

We were instructed to close our eyes and say the Serenity Prayer, but I couldn't take my eyes off Daniel. While everyone murmured the part about accepting things they couldn't change, I wondered if Daniel had spotted me when he first came in and if that was why he had kept his head down. Clearly, he had reason to hate me. If I hadn't painted the signs, he wouldn't be serving time in the boy version of the treatment center.

  The guy leading the meeting went on and on about himself, but none of it registered in my brain because my committee was busy obsessing about Daniel. Finally, he stopped talking and one of the older people in the middle of the room said she realized her life had become unmanageable when she woke up in jail. "I'm not the kind of person who goes to jail," she said. I nudged Tiara and whispered, "I said that, too." Tiara rolled her eyes and the guy leading the meeting called on someone else.

  "What's the topic?" I asked.

  "Step one," Tiara whispered back.

  Everyone who shared admitted all the crazy things they'd done while they were drunk and that made me feel normal. I'm not so sure that was a good thing, but it was the truth. Then the guy up front called on Daniel.

  He sat up straight and cleared his throat. "I'm Daniel, and I'm an alcoholic."

  "Hi, Daniel," everyone said.

  It was weird to hear him admit he was an alcoholic after all the fun we'd had on the beach. Seeing his face would have helped, but I had to look at the back of his head, kind of like texting, when you can't see the other person's facial expression to know if they're being serious. "I didn't know I was an alcoholic when I was drinking," he said, "but now that I've been sober for a month, I can see how it made my life unmanageable." Daniel squirmed in the chair. "I not only messed up my own life, I messed up someone else's, too-someone I really cared about, I mean a lot."

  "You all right, girl?" Tiara whispered.

  I swallowed hard and nodded.

  "You don't look all right," she said.

  "Shhhh?" Ohmygod.

  "Because of me, she's in a lot of trouble with the law, and like that other lady shared, she's not the type of person who goes to jail."

  Tiara shook her head and mumbled, "People keep saying that. Not the type, my ass."

  "I may never see her again," Daniel continued, "but I know when I get to that step where I have to make amends, I'll find her and I hope she'll forgive me."

  "Thanks for sharing," the guy leading the meeting said.

  For some reason, my hand shot straight in the air and they guy pointed to me. I felt like Queen Doreen had taken over my body and was getting ready to set everyone straight. "My name is Abby and I'm an alcoholic," I stated firmly.

  "Hi Abby," everyone in the room said in unison. Daniel whipped his head around and his eyes met mine.

  "Okay, first of all, no one is to blame for the trouble I'm in, except me." I looked right at Daniel and said, "I was drinking vodka at school and having blackouts way before spring break. Nobody forced me to drink; I wanted to." I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. "I used to blame my parents, but it's not their fault. A few days ago, my roommate left to go live with strangers and I realized how lucky I am to have parents." When I raised my eyes back up to Daniel's, he gazed at me so sweetly. "Anyway, I don't blame anyone, except myself, just so everyone's clear on that."

  Daniel half smiled and had a starry look in his eyes. Ohmygod.

  Finally, someone else began sharing and everyone stopped staring at me, except Tiara, who had reared up in her chair and was giving me the look. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "What!"

  She furrowed her brows and pointed at Daniel. "I can't believe somebody actually likes you."

  "Shut up!" I slapped her arm, but Tiara shook her head and chuckled until the meeting finally ended and everyone got up to hold hands in a big circle and pray. Normally this bothered me, but with Daniel in the room, it didn't matter what we were doing. Once that thought registered in my mind, I didn't want to be around him anymore. And then, when all the praying and chanting ended, they herded us back to the van before I could even say hi to him.

  On the way out, I glanced over my shoulder and Daniel made a hand signal that he would call me. Obviously, he meant after our release from captivity, when we've returned to civilization where they have real food and modern technology. I slid into a seat next to a window and stared out into the darkness. That was my future-dark and uncertain. Had I ruined my life forever? Fortunately, Tiara started teasing and poking me about Daniel-otherwise, my committee would have obsessed about my ruined life all the way home. Not home, whatever.

  The next night, the same group of boys filed into the AA meeting, but Daniel wasn't there. A wave of panic hit me. While everyone else said the Serenity Prayer, I closed my eyes and tried to think. He probably didn't have to be chained to a hospital bed for God knows how long, so he would have started treatment before me. He was already out.

  The leader decided to talk about step two-something about getting restored to sanity. People began sharing things that qualified them to be legitimately classified as insane. I did my best to not make eye contact with the leader, since I couldn't think of anything that proved I was insane. Other people, yes. Me, no.

  Then someone shared that once they started drinking, they couldn't stop, even if they wanted to. Night after night, they drank against their own will. I could totally relate, but did that make me insane? No. It just made me a pathetic teenage alkie.

  Next, someone shared that they had killed someone while driving in a blackout. Ohmygod. I couldn't imagine having to live with that. Yes, I'd had a few, okay more than a few blackouts. Did I hurt anyone? No. And just when I was feeling totally grateful that I wasn't insane, someone shared that they drank so much, they almost died. "Committing suicide, while telling myself that I'm not committing suicide is pretty crazy," the girl said.

  Great, now I'm crazy. As if I didn't have enough problems already.

  For some reason, the AA meetings at the treatment center were better. Maybe it was because we knew each other so well. But when the day came to say goodbye, my personality changed. I became rude and sarcastic to pretty much everyone, until I realized I didn't want to say goodbye to the band of misfits who had become my friends. I needed them. In my most vulnerable moments, they'd made me feel safe. It was easy to not drink in the treatment center, but could I do it out in the real world? Tiara had said I could, and since she was the most honest person I knew, I tried to believe her, but there was sadness deep inside me and alcohol had always been the only thing that could make it go away. I packed my bag, while my committee continued this lovely conversation about how I was going to fail, once I returned to the real world.

  I dragged my bag to the lobby, where Mom stood, eagerly smiling, with her arms stretched out. She squeezed me tight, but I felt distant, like I wasn't even there. I peered over Mom's shoulder and spotted Rafa standing by the door.

  "Let me look at you," Mom said, all mommy-like, fussing with my hair. "How do you feel?"

  I had no idea how I felt. I couldn't even speak. And then, out of nowhere, some angry voice inside of me blurted out, "Don't act like you care now. You didn't even write!" Mom's eyes got big. An all-too-familiar look of disappointment covered Rafa's face as he turned, pushed the door open, and walked out. I stared at the aftermath of my anger.

  Someone pulled my shoulders and guided me off to a corner. It was Dr. Drake. "Remember," she said in a quiet voice, "your insides are not going to match your outsides for a while. Try not to blurt anything out until you see things the way they really are."

  Tears streamed down my cheeks. I thought I had seen things the way they really were. It totally sucked to be me.

  Outside, Rafa leaned against the car with arms folded and eyes down. Mom clicked open the trunk and I threw my bag inside. When I climbed in front, Rafa slid in the back seat, pushed in ear buds, and closed his eyes. "Thanks for picking me up," I said to Mom as she climbed in, even though it sounded corny. I just hoped it matched the reality o
f the situation.

  "We have so much to talk about," Mom said, "but let's get you settled first."

  Well, yeah. I had questions, like when do I get my phone back? Is Dad still here? Is my next stop jail? I decided to practice step three and let go of all those questions. I'd let God surprise me. Not that I believed in God, but whatever.

  "Rafa and I cooked a welcome home dinner for you," Mom said. "All your favorites."

  "Anything that doesn't come from a can will be yummy," I replied, hoping that sounded positive. I turned around to see if Rafa was still ignoring me. He was, so I climbed between the seats and practically landed on his lap. I finally squirmed my butt over on the seat and squeezed him tight, but he didn't respond. "I love you bro," I said, wondering if it had sounded sarcastic or real. He still didn't respond, which made my committee wake up and call a meeting to order, but Dr. Drake had told me to stop trying to guess what other people were thinking, so I adjourned the committee until further notice. It was actually easier than I thought.

  Rafa finally relaxed and rested his head on my shoulder. I decided to sit still and hold him, but not say anything, so I wouldn't mess things up. When we finally made it to Galveston Island, I praised myself for not pushing those three big questions. I'd wait until we were enjoying the fabulous meal Mom and Rafa had prepared, and then ask all my questions in a civilized manner over dinner. It wasn't easy being normal, but at least I knew what it was supposed to look like, thanks to Queen Doreen's insistence that her daughter grow up overly well mannered.

  Mom hit the garage door opener as we turned into the driveway. I couldn't stand it any longer. I needed answers. "Is Dad still here?" I asked nicely.

  After Mom pulled into the garage, we all got out. While Rafa grabbed my bag out of the trunk, Mom said, "He went back after he got all your legal issues settled."

  "Ohmygod!" I screamed. "Will someone please tell me what's going on!" It's too bad you can't rewind how you've said something and try again. Once it's out, it's out. I stood there like an idiot, listening to my words echo around the garage while Mom and Rafa stared at me, totally shocked.

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  "I know you have a lot of questions, sweetheart. Let's go in and get you settled. Then we'll talk."

  A flood of sadness washed through me again and my eyes and nose welled up. It wasn't that I was afraid of the legal consequences for my actions; it was because I didn't know how to love or show kindness. Before I could stop myself, I began sobbing uncontrollably, gasping to breathe. Mom led me to the living room and sat down with me on the sofa. Rafa brought a box of tissues and sat on the other side. I wondered if the girls at the treatment center had people who cared about them like this, too. I doubted it. As much as I hated sappy moments, I couldn't stop saying "thank you" to Mom and Rafa.

  "You're going to be fine," Mom said, stroking my hair.

  "Always listen to your heart," Rafa whispered. "It will make you stronger."

  Okay, that opened my floodgates. Ohmygod. "So tell me about this fabulous meal you've prepared," I said, smiling through tears.

  Rafa sat up and his voice got all girlie. "Well," he said, waving his hand in the air for emphasis, "we made rosemary-lemon chicken with lightly caramelized sweet potatoes, and a spring mix salad with goat cheese and roasted pears."

  My eyes widened. "Ohmygod. Mom's been teaching you how to cook."

  For the first time all day, Rafa lips widened into a cute smile, making the little dimple in his cheek appear. "We had to do something while you were gone," he said.

  This was my family. The people I loved. I got all teary again. Ohmygod. "Okay," I said, like I'd had enough. "This is way more sappiness than I can handle." I stood up and grinned. "Let's have dinner and you can tell me how many years of hard time I'm doing."

  Mom smirked and shook her head. "And I thought Rafa was a drama queen."

  The smell of real food made me woozy. My mouth began watering before they put the last salad on the table. Of all the roasted chickens I'd devoured in my lifetime, none ever tasted that good. "I wonder if this is how Jesus felt at the last supper," I said.

  Rafa looked at me all quizzically. "I don't get it."

  "My last meal before I go to prison."

  "You're not going anywhere," Mom said. "You have to do a hundred and twenty hours of community service."

  "What is that?" Rafa asked.

  "She has to volunteer at a nonprofit organization over the summer." Mom passed me the chicken platter. "Oh, and you need to get a job. You owe me two thousand dollars. I paid your fine."

  I took the chicken platter and set it next to my plate. "No more incarceration?"

  "Nope," Mom said, "you're a free woman."

  It took me all of two seconds to figure out where I wanted to volunteer. "Do I get to choose where I do community service, or do they assign something?"

  "You choose," said Mom.

  "I want to serve food in the kitchen at the treatment center," I said. "Do you think they take volunteers?"

  "You can call and ask," Mom said. "By the way, Mr. Oliver came by last week for a visit. Apparently, he's very fond of you."

  "Mr. Oliver was here? That's totally weird. Here at our house?"

  "You never notice when people care about you," Rafa said. "You have always been his favorite one."

  Okay, first of all, Mr. Oliver hated me. He wouldn't even let me write a novel in place of that stupid journal assignment. The committee of negativity had convened and was calling a meeting to order. "Um, like no," I said, getting ready to unleash the committee right at the dinner table. But did I really want to go there? Already my stomach was twisting. Fire the committee. Don't let them speak. With a positive tone, I asked Mom, "What did he want?"

  "He wanted to know if you were okay." Mom took a sip of iced tea. "I really liked him."

  "Of course you did. He's all English and proper. I can see the two of you sipping Earl Grey and eating biscuits."

  Mom smiled. "He offered you a job at his book shop downtown, just for the summer, for tourist season."

  I looked at Rafa. "Oliver's Book Shop? I always thought Oliver was somebody's first name, like Oliver Twist, not Mr. Oliver."

  "How does he do that?" Rafa looked puzzled. "He is always at school."

  "His sister manages it during the school year, but she goes back to London in the summer. Anyway, I told him yes."

  I was trying to picture Mr. Oliver with a sister, when it finally registered that I would be working in his book shop this summer. "Are you sure he likes me?"

  Mom threw her linen napkin at me and Rafa seized the opportunity to wad up his and bombard me, too. "One day you'll know how wonderful you are," Mom said.

  That did not make sense in my brain, but I decided to keep my mouth shut and let it go. Mom gathered our plates and piled the silverware on top. "Mr. Oliver said he'd talk to you about it on Monday."

  I lifted the chicken platter. "Monday?"

  "At school." Mom took the pile of plates to the kitchen.

  School-it seemed a million miles away. I followed Mom into the kitchen and set the platter on the counter next to my phone that was plugged into a charger. Daniel. I unplugged the phone and stuck it in my pocket. With a worried look, Mom shifted her focus from me to the dishwasher and hurriedly assembled the plates inside.

  "I'm responsible for me now," I said to her reassuringly. "I'm the only one who can keep me sober."

  "I know," she said, keeping her head down.

  - 37 -