“Rocco, inside here, is an AA meeting.”
“A what?” My heart beats faster and blood rushes to my face. I squeeze her hands in mine, whether it be to supress my panic or stop her from running away … I don’t know.
“I’m not going to force you inside, and I’m not about to take you in there and then spring it on you, because that’d be a shitty thing to do. What I am doing is putting you on the doorstep.”
I know I have a problem, but admitting it in front of a bunch of randoms is not something I can do. No way. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I’m helping a friend. You’ve been there for me. Now it’s my turn.”
“Are they gonna preach to me how evil drinking is? Because I already know that shit.”
“There’s no preaching. No judgement. You don’t have to join up or anything. You don’t even have to say a word. It’s about taking the first step to giving it up.”
Soph is calm, and talks about it as if she’s the poster-child for AA.
“How do you know so much about this?”
“Because I helped my nana through it.”
Her nana? The lady who’s in the photo in her room? That sweet old bitty was an alco? No way.
I shift from foot to foot as I try to work out what to do. Soph stares at me as if she’s channelling some cute-as-hell puppy dog.
“If I come in, and I hate it, I’m leaving.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just listen, and I promise we’ll leave whenever you want.”
I take in a deep breath as we walk in. Am I ready for this?
The group is a weird mix of people—young, old, and some look as if they’re living on the poverty line by the state of their clothes. I’m surprised to see a couple of people in business suits. It’s totally not what I expected.
We take a seat at the back, which suits me because then we won’t make a ruckus when I decide to get out of here.
First we hear John. Is that his real name? He tells the room how he’s been sober for nine days and eight hours. He’s pretty proud of himself, and he earns a round of cheers and a few claps from the group. He looks as if he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep … ever. John tells us how he drove drunk and had a bad car accident. How he got fired from his job at a transport company because he lost his licence for DUI. That his wife has kicked him out and has filed for divorce. His three teenage girls want nothing to do with him. Even though all this shit is happening to him, he’s determined to make a change … one day at a time.
One day at a time. That is how I’m living my life. Drink just happens to be part of that day.
A few others contribute, and I take in everything they have to say. I don’t have the courage or the inclination to say anything. Suds hasn’t let go of my hand this whole meeting—if anything, I’ve held on tighter. There’s a whole lot of mixing of palm sweat going on. Suds doesn’t even seem to care that her hands are banged up and I’m gripping them so tightly.
When the meeting wraps up, I tug on Suds’s hand and make a grunting noise that’s code for ‘let’s get out of here’. She’s mid-wave with a guy in a suit. Did she used to come to this place with her nan? From the look of another smile in her direction, I get the feeling she did. Suds doesn’t put up with shit from anyone, so I’m guessing if she chose to bring me here, the people are half decent.
Time to go? she mouths.
“Yup.”
We walk in silence to her car, hand in hand. Am I a pussy ’cause I don’t wanna let go? When we walk into the light cast by a streetlight beside her car, I’m forced to take a step back when Suds throws her arms around my shoulders and hugs me.
She relaxes her hold and stares at my face. “I’m really proud of you,” she says in a quiet voice, blinking those emerald green eyes. I wanna kiss the fuck out of her, I should, but I can’t. I have a problem. I’m a drunk. Whoa. I’m a drunk. Yup. Just like Dad. I can’t publicly admit it, but I don’t deserve to be with anyone until I have my shit under control.
I wrap my arms around her waist and bury my head in the crook of her neck. Of their own will, my arms tighten around her. I can’t even look at her for fear of choking up. Since when does shit get to me?
Suds unfolds her arms from me and leans back, flattening her palms over my pecs. I still don’t let go.
“I’ll come to as many meetings as you want me to. This stays between us.”
I nod. I don’t know if I can come back. It wasn’t a bad experience, but I don’t see how it can help. How could I stand up in front of a room full of people and lay my shitty life on the table if I can’t even talk to a single soul about it? Maybe I need to try. Maybe that’s the first step.
Suds wants to be a part of this. She’s prepared to stand by me and get me through it. Man. What the hell did I do to deserve this woman in my life? I’m a lucky son-of-a-bitch.
“You like Thai food?” I ask, my voice gruff.
“Yup. The hotter the better.”
“Good.”
****
The unmistakable smell of basil, chilli and spices fills the apartment as I open the takeaway containers, and place them in the middle of the dining table. We load up our plates and don’t waste any time digging in.
“This is delicious,” Suds murmurs around a mouthful of what I reckon is the Beef Massaman curry.
“My brother is in jail,” I announce without warning.
Suds takes her time finishing her mouthful. There’s no choking on her food or gasping in shock or horror. There’s no judgment in the eyes that haven’t strayed from mine. There’s only an acceptance of what I’ve just told her.
“So I’m staying in his room, yeah?”
My shoulders drop. I’ve chosen the right person to speak to about this. About me and how fucked up my life is. “Yeah. It’s the room I have for him when he gets out.”
“In how long?”
“About three months.”
She nods and spoons a chunk of beef dripping in the rich sauce onto her plate.
“It’s my fault he’s in there.”
She tilts her head to the side and blinks several times. “Why do you think that?”
“He got involved in a motorcycle club, thanks to my dad, but I didn’t find out until he was sworn in as a full member. If I wasn’t so busy travelling around Australia with work, I would’ve done something about it.”
“What put him behind bars?”
“Drugs.”
She nods. “How old is he?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Then he’s old enough to be responsible for his decisions. Don’t take it on yourself.”
“When Mamma was dying she made me promise to look out for him.” One day she was going in for a routine operation on her leg, and the next she was fighting the worst case of staph infection the doctors had seen in years. I fucking failed her by not looking out for V.
Suds wraps her mouth around another forkful of rice and slowly chews. “And when he’s out, you’ll look out for him.”
“Yeah. I have no idea how it’s gonna work.”
“You’ll work it out.”
Suds puts down her fork on the edge of her plate and stares at me. I wipe at the side of my mouth in case I have food stuck there. What’s she looking at?
“So tell me, what’s he like? Argumentative? Bossy? Anything at all like his older brother?”
I give her a smart-arse smile, showing my amusement. It’s nice to talk about him as the person I know, not my brother, the inmate. “He’s impressionable, fiercely loyal, which I both love and hate, and he’s a bit more put together than I am when it comes to emotions and shit. Definitely not as hot-headed.”
“I’d love to meet him.”
Hang on a minute. “You would?” I don’t think I could take her with me to the jail. How would V react? Would I just be rubbing shit in his face? Would Suds feel differently about my family and me afterwards?
“Of course. How else am I gonna find out all the nitty-gritty shit about you?”
She wants to know more?