Pins and Needles

The first meeting

Once again, I find myself back in group therapy. Not because I'm being forced to. Because I want to get better. Life as a recovering drug addict is hard. No one in my family speaks to me or calls to see how I'm doing. It doesn't matter, I don't want them to call. I don't want them to see how I am. In all honesty, I hate my parents. I hate my mom for being selfish and doing nothing but degrading me my whole life. I hate my dad for being a coward and walking out on me, leaving me alone with that psycho of a woman. And the rest of the family is no better. Drug addicts and alcoholics, all of them. Guess I shouldn't be surprised. Runs in the family.
I walk into the meeting building, usually there are AA and rehab meetings going on at the same time as the group therapy sessions, we were the only ones there that day. Weird. I make it the room where we have the meeting and sit down. The therapist starts to welcome everyone but the door opens and someone walks in. "Oh, I almost forgot about you." The therapist says as the young man nods and takes the seat next to me. He's very closed off and quiet, which isn't a bad thing, He doesn't seem like he's all there. He seems nice enough, he even smiles quickly as he sits down. "Alright, let's start by introducing ourselves. Let's start with you." she points her pen at him.
"Hi, I'm Billy. Billy Knight." he says, his Essex accent rings in my ear. I moved to London years ago, when I turned 18, but I still can't get used to the accents of the locals. Everyone responded the same, "Hello, Billy." ring out in the, otherwise, empty room. "I was diagnosed with depression and schizophrenia when I was 17 years old. My childhood was... not the greatest." He stops. The therapist looks up from her clipboard. "You can tell us anything, Billy. We are not here to judge you. We are here in hopes to provide some comfort for the trauma you expected." She gives him a small smile. "No thanks. I don't want to talk about it." Billy clams up. He basically closes himself off from the world. A classic trauma reaction. Poor thing.
"Alright then, Lilith. Your turn", The therapist says to me. I sigh. Here we go. "Hey, I'm Lilith." The newcomer, Billy, jumped a little. He looks at me. "Is there a problem, Billy?" The therapist asks, seeing his face, which seems to be in shock. "No, I just didn't know that there's an American in this group." "Is that a problem?" I say, angrily. Who does this guy think he is!? "N-no, I didn't mean it like that..." He clams up once again. "Lilith, we talked about you being more understanding that people around here are not used to seeing Americans in the UK." The therapist scolds. I sigh and I look at Billy. "I'm sorry" God, the poor thing looked like it was the first time someone apologized to him. I feel like a little kid being scolded by a teacher for hurting another kid's feelings. "It's ok..." Billy says, his voice just above a whisper. Shit, now, I feel like an asshole. "Lilith, go on." "I'm a recovering heroin addict and I'm also diagnosed with depression. I've been living on my own since I was 18 but I've been taking care of myself way longer than that." The therapist looks up at me. "How long would you say you took care of yourself? From what age?" Shit. Been a while since I thought about that. "Uhhh... I was like, 9. I think" I reply.
The meeting ends a couple hours later, "Well, that's the end of this week's meeting. I hope to see you all next week." I pick up my bag and start walking out of the building. Once I'm out of the building, I bump into Billy again. "S-sorry." he stutters. "It's alright. I wasn't watching where I was going. It's not your fault" I reply, a soft smile on my face. There was a very awkward silence that came between us. He spoke first, "I'm sorry if I was rude back there. I'm not used to being around someone as pretty as you- I mean, as beautiful as you- I mean!" He turns bright red as he continues to stutter and trip over his words. I chuckle, "It's ok, Billy. That's a nice thing to say. I'll take it as a complement." I rest my hand on his arm. He jumps a little and tenses up. Was he afraid that I would hurt him? Jesus tap dancing Christ. Who hurt this poor man? He swallows hard. "A-alright, um...Hey, um... Could I pay you a coffee and, maybe, walk with you? I just want you to get home safe" He asks, his voice above a whisper. God, he's adorable. He looks like a sad puppy. How could I say no to him? "Sure, I'd love a coffee." We started to walk together.