“A night or two. Kaiser and I were too wild to stay put. But Hieronymus is where we met the Devil and St. James. They’re the ones who ended up founding Fraternitas.”
There are tons of rumors and speculation swirling around the brotherhood and the man called the Devil. Honey would be delighted that I could give her answers.
I don’t care about Fraternitas. I want to ask more questions about Jaeger and Kaiser, two school-age kids without a home.
But the meeting is about to start. More people flood the room.
“Hey, Elodie.” One of the meeting attendees shuffles closer, donut in hand. I recognize his blue hair and thin face.
“Hey, Tommy.”
“Hiya.” He raises a hand to greet Jaeger. Jaeger just looks at him.
“Tommy, this is Jaeger,” I say quickly. “A… friend.”
Jaeger cups my hand with both of his.
“More than a friend,” I amend.
Tommy’s eyes flash down to the ring on my hand and then Jaeger’s skull ring. “Uh, got it. See ya.” He backs away, beating it for a seat by the door.
I sigh. “Please don’t intimidate people here.” I met Tommy in my early NA days. He and I have exchanged numbers so we could support each other through the twelve steps.
“I won’t.” Jaeger dips his head so only I can hear. “Just any friends who are more than friends.”
“There isn’t anyone like that here.” I check to see if Tommy’s okay, and he’s chatting with someone else while eating his donut. I transfer my glare to Jaeger. “Besides you. You know this.”
He sits back, looking satisfied, but keeps my hand between both of his.
Today’s meeting has a speaker, so after we welcome newcomers and recite the Serenity Prayer, a woman with box braids stands and shares her story.
The church basement is both cold and drafty and clammy, with the heat of all the bodies crowded together, and it smells like sweat and stale smoke.
I let the speaker’s story wash over me, crying a little at the sad parts like I would at a movie. Her story has a happy ending, though, because she’s here and sharing. For a lot of people in this room, the story won’t end well, but that’s life. We all live a million stories, and whether the theme is horrific or heroic depends on which moments you choose to showcase.
Jaeger’s hands are warm on mine. In this crowd, he stands out, not just because he’s bigger than anyone else. He has a sort of glow, like a saint in a classical painting. Maybe it’s his handsome face or golden hair. Or his air of calm command. He looks more real than everyone else, spotlit so the rest of the room fades away.
At one point, he gets up and leaves my side. I miss his heat and am glad when he returns with a box of tissues for me. He takes one and wipes my tears away.
“Thank you,” I mouth to him. He cups my face a moment, gazing at me with such intensity that I look away. But I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he judging all of us addicts here? I’ve never brought a guy here. I haven’t dated anyone since getting clean. And I never would’ve imagined someone like Jaeger being at my side. Is he okay with being here?
Will he see me differently now that he knows I’m an addict?
The meeting ends. The mood is lighter, as if the speaker’s story was all our stories, and our collective confession allows us to leave some shadows behind.
Jaeger intuits that I don’t want to stick around or talk to anyone. He picks me up, ignoring the raised eyebrows. I wave to Tommy when we pass him, and he waves back. I’ll text him later and tell him it was good to see him.
Outside, a light rain greets us. The Lykan is still at the curb. A cop car is live, parked close by, but there’s no ticket on the hood.
We sit in the car for a moment, watching the drops of water slide down the windshield.
“You should know I haven’t used in three years,” I say. “I went through a hard time when I had to drop out of school.”
Jaeger squeezes my hand and doesn’t speak. His silence makes it easier to tell him the rest.
“My boyfriend at the time… liked to party. I went through… some stuff. In college. And I thought that partying would help.” I have few memories of those nights—nothing but flashing lights, dirty floors of clubs, and the sandy feeling in my eyes and mouth. Daylight was like knives in my skull, and I was tired all the time, bone-deep exhaustion I’d felt like I was too young to feel. “We broke up when I decided to stop using. Margot was pregnant andnot doing well, and I knew I had to help. The pills were an escape I couldn’t afford.”
He turns in the seat, facing me. He cups my cheek and says nothing. I lean into his palm.
