I stood at the front of the long room, my hands shoved into my pockets, swaying back and forth on my feet as I faced the audience and stared at my hands resting on top of the podium.
“Hi, I’m Bess,” I said, my voice cracking, then continued a little louder. “And I’m a junkie. I liked—loved—it all. Alcohol, pills, the harder stuff.”
Shit.I mumbled to myself, struggling to form the words needed.
“Like I said, I’m Bess. Sorry for being rude. It’s been a while since I’ve spoken in front of a group. I’m an alcoholic and drug addict. I’ve been one since I was eighteen years old. Before that I dabbled in a little of everything, but it wasn’t until I went to college that I truly lost myself, and drugs and alcohol took over my life.”
“Hi, Bess. Welcome,” the group chimed in as one.
“Well, let’s see,” I said, shifting from foot to foot. “I grew up with my dad—just the two of us. My mom up and left when I was a little girl. I remember standing in the doorway of our second-story apartment and watching her walk down the steps, dragging her huge suitcase. She never even turned around. Not once. So, with her gone, my dad did the best he could, and he really did a good job until I went to high school. When I was still young, he would toss a ball to me or take me to his auto shop with him. But he didn’t know what to do with me when I started to become a woman. He had no clue what to say to me about boys or friendships. He’s just an average blue-collar mechanic. Yeah, he’s done well, owns his own shop, and I didn’t ever really want or need for anything, but someone to talk to. So, yeah, he could have done a little better in the talking department.”
I took a deep breath. Still bouncing back and forth on my feet, I cracked my neck, refusing to look out to the crowd as I continued.
“I was sort of a small-chested tomboy. I liked hanging at the Y, playing ball when I was younger, and back then the boys were my friends. Until the other girls developed, and I didn’t know what to make of my own development. The little I grew, I hid under hooded sweatshirts and jeans with holes in the knees. My appearance, my attitude ... let’s just say, I never really learned how to navigate boys or a big circle of friends, and I ended up allowing boys to take advantage of me, which started a vicious cycle. I’d let the neighborhood kids use me, get incredibly sad, and repeat. I know—poor me. But that’s what happened, so I have to own it.”
I took a deep breath, still staring at my hands as I continued. “College was different. There was so much freedom, and a chance to try on so many personalities, make new friends, and start a different life. Unfortunately, party girl felt best. There were so many pills and parties and joints and drinks. It became a way of life. When I was having fun, I couldn’t remember how lonely I’d always been, so I kept going until I was ‘having fun’ all the time.”
Looking up for the briefest of moments, I saw that everyone in the crowd had their eyes trained on me. I lowered my gaze, unable to face them in this moment.
“It was all fun until I collapsed. I had gone to a yoga class high and stoned, all hungover and dehydrated, and as soon as I turned upside down, I was done. That’s all I remember. Apparently, I passed out cold. The owner of the gym called an ambulance in time, and I made it to the hospital for them to pump my stomach and help me dry out. That was the easy part in comparison to what came after. And now.”
Once again, lifting my eyes slowly, I checked in to see if I should continue. Scanning the faces in front of me, I was relieved to see that they were overwhelmingly open, their expressions merely curious and supportive. Finally steady on my own two feet, I felt goose bumps break out on my skin as I prepared to finish.
“I had one really close friend back then, and I haven’t seen her since I left the hospital. It’s not like she didn’t try, but I refused to add her name to the list of people who were allowed to visit me in rehab. It was too painful to think about her seeing the non-fun version of myself, so I locked her out, and I’ve been alone ever since. The relationship with my dad never got better, his guilt making it even harder to try, and without a good friend who really knew me, it was just me against the world. Problem is, the thought of living life this way for the next few decades is starting to scare me, pushing me to want to be the ‘fun me’ all over again, and I can’t do that either. So I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Alone.”
I stepped down from the front to applause from the audience, receiving affirmations from the people I passed on the way back to my seat. One lady stopped me and grasped my hands, urging me to not regret the past, and told me she’d pray for me.
AJ was waiting for me. “It looks like you could use a shoulder or a flannel shirt to cry into, Bess,” he said as we walked toward the door.
“I just hate being a burden to anyone. I guess it’s been way too many years on my own,” I answered.
“A cup of coffee is not a burden,” AJ said as he held the heavy door open with his broad shoulder for the two of us.
“I know.” I looked away, swiping a stray tear from my cheek.
“Come on, let’s go.” He nodded to the cars.
“Poor Brooks is alone all week. Why don’t you come over and I’ll make coffee, okay?” I asked, knowing he would agree.
AJ winked at me as he said, “I’ll follow you home, pretty girl,” and we jumped in our cars.
