Dream Phantom

Chapter Nine

The day had been long for Roberto Montoya. It was hot and he desperately wanted a drink. His brother-in-law, Detective Tristan Beaumont, had threatened him with bodily harm if Roberto stepped anywhere near Gladys again while he was drunk. He wasn't afraid of Tristan but he was afraid of scaring Gladys. His bandaged hand tightened around the steering wheel and he cursed himself for the sixth time that night.

Would Gladys ever forgive him? Could she? She had to.

Roberto's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward to follow the directions on his GPS. He hated driving to new places in the dark. He had debated whether or not to make the long trip to Lincoln which was an hour away from his hometown of Roane. After talking with Tristan, he didn't feel like he had any other choice. If he attended an AA meeting in Roane, it wouldn't take long for word to reach the guys at the station. Not to mention the criminals he'd have to eventually catch.

"It's not like I'm a drunk anyway," Roberto muttered to himself. He licked his lips and sighed, thinking a cold beer would really hit the spot.

The streetlights illuminated the parking lot of the community center as Roberto pulled in. He saw the marquee that had the weekly AA meeting time posted and checked his watch. He was a few minutes early.

"You can do this. It's not like you really need to be here. It's for Gladys. You can do anything for Gladys," he told himself.

Once he was inside, he felt more uncomfortable. Everyone was clustered into small groups and he immediately felt like an outsider. He found himself in front of the refreshment table when a young man in his mid-twenties approached him.

"You must be new," the man smiled. He pointed to a plate of cookies that had M&Ms baked into them. "Georgia made those. You should try them. They're pretty good."

Roberto nodded and picked a few up, placing them on a small paper plate. He looked around, assessing the other attendees, "You've been coming here long?"

The man shrugged, "I just moved here."

"I'm not really an alcoholic," Roberto felt compelled to say. "I-I just have had a rough patch these past few weeks. Well months, really."

The man tilted his head to one side, "Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should talk about it tonight," the man suggested.

Roberto scoffed at that, "No way. I don't want to-"

"Everyone here has a story," the man said, interrupting him. He pointed to another man wearing a business suit, "That's Roy. He's a big shot in the stock market scene. Last year his twin brother committed suicide. He drank to cope until he lost his job and almost lost his life. He's been sober three months now."

The man pointed at a woman with tattoos on her arms, neck, and legs, "That's Pam. She's a hairdresser. She used to be part of cult. When she finally escaped, she realized she was all alone and started drinking, partying, you name it. It wasn't until she found herself waking up from a coma that she realized she had to get her life together."

"Why are you telling me this?" Roberto asked.

Again the man shrugged, "I don't know. I guess I just wanted you to know that no one here will judge you. That everyone has a story."

A tall man named Greg began asking everyone to take a seat. Roberto sat in the back, the young man next to him.

"Do we have any new visitors tonight?" Greg asked. "We welcome you to share your story with us. This is a place of non-judgment."

An older man in his fifties stood up and introduced himself. After he was done, Roberto found himself trying to lower himself in his seat. The man next to him pressed two fingers into Roberto's ribs causing him to jerk forward and make a loud sound that was a cross between a groan and a laugh.

"Ahhh...I see we have another new member," Greg said, pointing at Roberto. "Please introduce yourself."

Roberto leered at the young man next to him before looking at the expectant eyes of the other AA members. He stood up, pushing the metal chair behind him. He cleared his throat, "M-my name is Roberto. I'm here because my wife said I've been drinking too much."

A soft murmuring of voices responded but Roberto couldn't concentrate on what they were saying.

"Do you think you drink too much?" Greg asked.

Roberto shook his head, "No. I mean...I don't know. I want a drink right now." He raised his injured hand. "This happened when I had a little too much to drink. I don't remember but I was told I smashed a window with my fist. I was arrested and then suspended from work. I don't have a drinking problem though. I only drink every now and then. It's not like I don't have a good reason to drink. It's been a hard year."

"We're sorry to hear that," Greg said, speaking on behalf of the group.

Roberto harrumphed before crossing his arms against his chest, "You're sorry to hear that? Not as sorry as I am. My wife was abducted last year. She almost died and was caught in a fire. After years of trying to conceive, she was finally pregnant...but we lost him. She doesn't even want to talk to me anymore because for whatever reason, she thinks it's all my fault. Wouldn't you drink too if you were me? Wouldn't you?"

"It sounds like you've had an incredibly stressful year," Greg said. "I hope you continue to join us in our meetings, Roberto. Recognizing that there is a problem is the first step. I hope you take that step with us."

Roberto saw the other members nodding and smiling at him in encouragement. He gave a terse nod before sitting down and glaring at the man next to him. After the meeting was over he tapped the man on his shoulder, "What you did back there wasn't appreciated."

"I pushed you closer to your first step," the man grinned. "You'll thank me later."

Roberto didn't acknowledge that. Instead, he asked, "So what's your story? What made you start drinking?"

The man looked past Roberto and sighed, "Guilt."

"Guilt?"

"I thought it was my fault my brother was murdered. Eventually I accepted that it wasn't my fault. That it was the fault of the man that chose to kill him."

"That's rough. I'm sorry about your brother."

"It was years ago," the man said.

They both were walking closer to the door when Roberto asked, "By the way, what's your name?"

The man extended his hand for Roberto to shake, "Omar. Omar Price."