Functioning

Second Meet

ONE

“Hi, my names Leia Edwards and I’m an alcoholic.”

Thirteen faces stared back at me with different emotions. I thought this was going to be different; people greeting me back like in the movies or trying to hold my hand and tell me everything was going to get better. But in reality we were all here because we had problems and we couldn’t deal with them like regular people.

It was my second session and my hands were shaking. I didn’t know if that was still from the withdrawal or because I didn’t want to be here. I had to speak this week. I had to tell my story.

“I am twenty-one years old. Six months ago I gave birth to a premature child who suffered from fetal alcohol syndrome. Amelia died at the age of eleven days.”  I was used to telling the story and getting abuse shouted at me, I just hadn’t gotten used to the guilt of killing my child. And I didn’t want to.

Joe Pescelli, our adviser, the head of the group, our mentor, the man who ran over his own child whilst drinking and driving ten years ago with his long goatee and half-moon glasses smiled at me sympathetically. “And what do you want to gain from our group, Leia?”

I breathed out slowly trying to keep my cool because that was a fucking stupid question. “To help get out of alcoholism,” I said through my teeth.

“And?” Pescelli said leaning forward slightly like a teacher trying to squeeze the obvious answer out of the slow kid.

I rolled my eyes and scratched the side of my head and quoted quietly, “To understand and accept my feelings in a thoughtful and productive manner.”

“Leia, the only way you can do this is my accepting our motto and be willing to do this not only to better yourself but help to better everyone else around us.” Pescelli turned his head from side to side, “Come on, guys. Let’s say it together, ‘to understand and accept our feelings in a thoughtful and productive manner’.” The twelve other people either muttered, shouted or cried along with him.

I really needed a drink. This wasn’t what I wanted or needed. I didn’t want to fucking talk about my feelings or thoughts or how to fucking understand them. I wanted to sit at the bottom of my stairs with a beer. 

 I took that as my cue to sit down. I sat on my hands because the shaking wanted me to hit them across the wall repeatedly until they were numb. They said that I would still get the shakes and a fever every now and then, but the worst of it was over. But was it? The alcohol was out of my system but it wasn’t out of my head. They said that was something I had to do myself.

I tried listening to the other members talk for the rest of the hour. Some of them cried and the others didn’t seem to want to be there the same way I didn’t. But we had to, it was court orders. I looked around the circle and had a good look at everyone. Opposite me sat a big, white woman with short black hair that looked like someone put her head in a bowl and cut around it. She had her bag clutched in her chubby arms and a soggy tissue in her hand. A few seats to the left of her was an elderly man with all his hair who spoke earlier, his name was Earl Jacobs. He had round glasses and a pony tail. He had these piercing grey eyes that stared at everyone who spoke. Three seats to the left of me was a young mixed raced girl with long curly brown hair and had hollow green eyes. I wasn’t the youngest one there.

When everyone was done, Pescelli gave us a thumbs up which was the indication I’d been looking for all hour. It was time I could get the fuck out of there.

There was a table long full of refreshments so I grabbed a bottle of water when the mixed-race girl with the green eyes touched me arm. She smiled at me sheepishly and quickly took her hand away from me. “Hi.”