Some People Do

6: Confession

SOOKIE

"So I had dinner with my ex the other night," I tell the people in attendance at the AA meeting I usually go to on Tuesday night. Most of the faces are familiar. I think we lose more regulars than we gain, unfortunately. "I'm not sure how I feel about it, except I didn't drink. There was that voice in the back of my head telling me to have a shot after he left. We made breakfast sandwiches. When we were together we had breakfast for dinner like two or three times a week. He makes great waffles. We used to joke that if we ever got married, waffles would be our wedding cake. We probably would have had an omelet station instead of a carving station.

"The thing is, I found out he broke up with his girlfriend since we've reconnected. He says it has nothing to do with me, but he's got a habit of lying to cover his ass when he's not comfortable admitting the truth. Sometimes the lies are obvious and sometimes they're not. It's a habit I hoped he would have outgrown by now. I'm not really sure where this leaves us. We had a nice meal together, but I feel like he's waiting for me to fuck up again. I don't know if that's always going to be there, hanging over my head. We didn't trade phone numbers, but Facebook means never having to trade numbers these days." I give a nervous laugh. I'm rambling out loud but we're supposed to share and this is all I've got right now. "Anyway, it's crazy to think that once upon a time I thought he was The One. Part of me still thinks he might be. Then I wonder if maybe I'm holding on for the wrong reasons. For a long time he was the safe harbor. But is that a good reason to be with someone?

"I feel like we both deserve better than that. He deserves someone who doesn't have all my issues. I deserve someone who doesn't make me think of all the bad shit I've done. It's a strange paradox, you know? On the one hand, I truly do believe that his ultimatum was the very first step I took toward change. I had to go out on my own and be completely responsible for my own choices. I mean, I know that was always the case but I can't credit him with enabling me after that point. Everything I did, I did because I wanted to. I let myself tank. It's not his fault that I spiraled out of control. I've told him it was never his job to reel me back in, although I'm not sure if he fully accepts that. He's a good soul, really. That's part of the problem. He doesn't walk in my shoes just like I don't walk in his. I still haven't told him why I started drinking in the first place. I don't think he knows that I took my first drink when I was nine, and it wasn't by choice. Even after all this time, there's a really big part of me that's terrified of what he'll think if I tell him the whole story.

"I've learned enough about myself in the last few years to know that I can't live with dishonesty. Whether it's about my triggers or how I got on the path I did, or the little white lies he tells because it's more comfortable. I just can't do that anymore." I wipe a tear off my cheek because it strikes me, as I speak, that I do still love Eric.

I'm not in love with him anymore, but I love him. I'm not sure what it would take to be in love with him again. I don't even know if it would be good for either of us to revisit that. My eyes catch Kennedy's from across the room, and I can tell she's concerned. I take my seat and someone else stands up to speak.

The coffee is horrible at these meetings. That seems to be the one thing they all have in common. Horrible coffee. Tonight it tastes burned. At the end of the meeting there are the usual sentiments about donations and asking for volunteers to help tidy up the choir's rehearsal space. I don't mind sticking around to help stack chairs or put them back in their rows. It's the least I can do. We close with the Serenity Prayer like always, and then folks move to the back of the room for more burned coffee and better pastries that came from Daily Grind.

"So you had dinner with Eric, huh?" Kennedy asks when she approaches me. We walk over to a corner to talk quietly.

"Yeah, I did. He tracked me down on Facebook. I didn't plan on inviting him over. It didn't go any further than dinner," I assure her.