I pull out my phone as I walk and think about calling Ivan right now, telling him the news immediately. But I want to wait until our scheduled call tonight. I want to hear his voice when I tell him. The hours crawl by with agonizing slowness.
At exactly ten o'clock, my phone rings.
"Hey," Ivan says when I answer. "Are you okay to talk now?"
"Yeah, of course. I'm not doing anything except waiting for your call anyway." I settle back on the bed, getting comfortable. "I have news."
"Good news or bad news? Tell me which so I know how to brace myself."
"Good news. Really good news. I got a second job. At the diner. Betty's place. Evening shifts, five to ten, Monday through Thursday."
"Jay, that's amazing! When did this happen? When do you start?"
"I asked her today after I left Mick's shop. Just walked in and asked if she needed help. And I start tomorrow night. Wednesday."
"I'm so proud of you. This is great."
"It's just washing dishes and cleaning up. It's not anything special."
"It's not just anything. Don't diminish it. It's you making a plan and following through instead of just talking about it. That's everything."
"There's more. I talked to Mick today too. About drinking and about getting help."
"What did he say?"
"I asked him if he'd ever known anyone who had a serious drinking problem and was able to stop. Actually quit, not just cut back." I take a breath. "He said yeah, he knew someone. This guy lost his wife first—she walked out after years of putting up with his shit. Almost lost his kids too, they stopped talking to him. And he nearly bankrupted his business because he was too drunk to notice the bills piling up or the clients leaving."
"Jesus. That's rough."
"Yeah. But the guy hit rock bottom eventually and realized he had exactly two choices. Keep digging himself deeper, or start trying to climbout. So, he started climbing. Went to AA meetings every single day at first, sometimes twice a day when it got really bad. Found a sponsor, worked the twelve steps, the whole program."
"Did it work? Is he still sober?"
"Mick said it's not magic. It's not easy. It's hard as hell, especially at the beginning. But it's free, and it works if you actually work it instead of just going through the motions." I pause, my heart racing. "I asked if it's possible to quit on your own, without the meetings. He said sure, anything's possible. But it's a lot harder. A lot lonelier. The meetings give you people who understand what you're going through. People you can call at two in the morning when the cravings are eating you alive and you're about to lose it."
"That makes a lot of sense. Having support. Not trying to do it alone."
"At the end of the day, when I was leaving, Mick called me over. He told me that person he was talking about, the one who lost everything before getting sober—" I have to swallow hard. "That was him. Twenty years ago. He said he sees me coming in some mornings looking like I haven't slept. Sees my hands shaking when I think nobody's watching. He's been there."
"Wow. I wasn't expecting that."
"Me neither. He doesn't talk about personal stuff ever. But he told me. He gave me a card. For AA meetings at the community center on Fifth Street. Every night. He said I don't have to go, I don't have to do anything. Just know it's there if I need it."
"Are you going to go? To a meeting?"
"I don't know. Not yet. I'm not ready for that yet." I trace the edge of the card with my thumb. "But I have the card. Just in case. Just knowing it's an option helps somehow."
"That's good, Jay. You don't have to go if you're not ready. But it's good to know it's there. Good to have options." Ivan's quiet for a moment. "What did Mick say at the end? After he gave you the card?"
"He told me I've got real talent with motorcycles. And a good heart, even if I try to hide it. He said he doesn't want to see me throw that away because I'm too stubborn to ask for help when I need it."
"He's right. You do have those things. All of them."
"I'm trying to believe that. Trying to see myself the way you and Mick apparently see me."
"You will eventually. I'll keep telling you until it sticks. Until you believe it as much as I do."
There's a comfortable pause. I can hear him breathing on the other end of the line, can picture him lying on his bed in his room.
