“Who would like to get us started today?” Alana calls out, stirring her gaze around the circle, summoning a volunteer.
I’m shocked when August throws her hand up in the air. “I would,” she says, pointedly. After spending time with August these past weeks, I’ve come to learn that the more serious her tone is, the more nervous she feels. August forces herself to appear in control when she’s at her weakest.
Alana smiles with ease. “That’s wonderful,” she says.
August folds her hands over her lap, squeezing her palms together with what looks like force. “I’m April, and this is my second time here.” August lifts her head to glance around bravely. “I’m not suffering from an addiction to alcohol, but I am sufferingfroman addiction to alcohol.” At first, her words seem cluttered to me, but when I absorb the meaning of what she said, I find it to be reasonable, considering we’re in the presence of others who are full-fledged alcoholics.
A soft muttering of whispers waves around the circle. “Keegan Powers, my ex-boyfriend, he used to attend this group.” August’s voice trails off, shaking a bit at the end. I hear her swallow hard, sounding like her throat is absorbing a sharp nail. “He overdosed on pills two weeks ago.”
Another low hum of sounds. Some of the people in the circle have their hands over their mouths, appearing shocked. Others have a hand on top of their chests. Alana’s lips quiver and her eyes fill with tears. “April,” Alana says softly. “I had no idea. We thought Keegan was doing better. He received a chip recently.”
“He was doing better until he wasn’t,” August says, sounding respectful but edging on abrupt. “It’s okay,” August says, trying to force a smile.
It’s not okay.
“I told Keegan that I couldn’t be with him anymore because he chose alcohol over me, which he had done many years ago. Over the years we spent together, I stuck with him because I wanted to help him get better. Then, I couldn’t do it anymore. I haven’t been in love with Keegan for more than five years. I haven’t wanted to be his friend in over two. There was nothing left. I had been miserably faithful to that man for over a decade. Then he set me free … I guess the only way he knew how.”
I have the urge to reach over and take August’s hand, but I realize how inappropriate that would be at this moment. “You are brave,” Alana tells her.
August closes her eyes, her lashes flutter over her cheeks, and she swallows again. “After Keegan passed away, I had the urge to understand what I couldn’t, while he was alive, so I started drinking. I drank as much as I could every day for almost two weeks.” August lets out a small nervous laugh. “I realize that’s nothing to be ashamed of in just two weeks, but what I learned was that whiskey made me forget about my life. I stopped caring for others and myself. It was a break from reality.”
The reactions from everyone around us are synonymous. There is pain written across all the faces.
“What did you feel?” Alana asks.
“I didn’t feel anything, but I saw pain ... the pain I was causing people—family and even strangers. I saw the bottom of a lake after falling in and hitting my head. I saw a warning at work. I saw the evil in people. I saw rock bottom after only two weeks. But the pain hid behind the numbness. It was easier that way.” August breaks her stare from the wall across the room and peers over at me.
“Then, I made a friend who has been trying to help me the way I always tried to help Keegan. It has meant the world to me, which is confusing when I try to figure out why my devotion didn’t do the same for Keegan.”
I can’t help but wonder if August is touching anyone’s innermost thoughts in here. It’s hard enough sometimes to see our personal self-destruction, so I can’t imagine how hard it is to see what our choices do to others.
“You are a courageous woman, April. I admire you for your strength and will to help Keegan. What happened to Keegan was a decision based on his struggles. It had nothing to do with you. You need to understand that. We all know that drinking doesn’t solve anything—it’s an escape, not a solution.”
“I’m sorry if I don’t belong here,” August says. “I felt like I was drowning in misery, and even though it was only a two-week bender, I started feeling the urge to keep drinking, and I don’t want to feel that again.
The one thing that came out of this experience, which I’m not sure is good or bad, is that I have a better understanding of how hard it must have been for him to try to stop drinking.”
Everyone in the group claps, and it surprises me. “Take Keegan’s second chance and live the way you wish he would have,” the woman next to me says.
“Who else would like to share?” Alana asks.
August sits back into her chair and releases a breath. I reach over and run my fingers through her hair, reminding her I’m here, and I will stay by her side.
The next forty-five minutes fly by with stories I never imagined hearing, and it makes me wonder how many of the nightly patrons at Kenny’s are going through the same thing. There was a time when I wondered if people thought I might have a drinking problem due to my nightly routine at Kenny’s, but I stopped caring because I know the real reason; I don’t want to eat alone.
When we arrive back at August’s Jeep behind Kenny’s, I can’t help feeling a million different things. I wish I could bring August with me to my meeting too, but I can’t. It’s something I must do on my own. Having someone I could share my excitement with this morning was new and more than I could have wanted. I don’t remember the last time someone has been happy for me or supported me the way she did.
“I know we just spent all night and morning together, but would you think I’m crazy if I asked you to have dinner with me at a real restaurant tonight?” I ask her as she’s reaching for the Jeep’s door handle.
“Are you saying Kenny’s bar isn’t a real restaurant?” she jokes. “I don’t think Luke would appreciate you talking about his dry, dark burgers that way.”
I toss my head back with laughter. “You’re a funny one. Youknow that?” She’s funny, but she didn’t answer my question. I might have moved too fast or asked for too much too soon. “We can go out another time if tonight is overkill.”
“Are you kidding me?” she questions. August swings her arms around my neck, presses up on her toes, and kisses me sweetly. “We are celebrating you tonight. Today is a big day, and you can’t eat at Kenny’s.”
“I’m telling Luke you said that,” I toy back with her.
“Go ahead, I dare ya,” she says, touching the tip of her finger to the end of my nose.
