Edward

A Twelve-Step Confrontation

Dad dropped me off at the church for the first meeting. I didn't recognize anyone, and I hoped they didn't recognize me. There was coffee and donuts provided. There were four circular tables set up, and a dozen chairs against the back wall. As people were filtering in, they would hug, and one would sit down at a table. The others sat in the chairs against the wall.

I asked a guy with a horseshoe mustache, "Why are some people sitting in the chairs against the wall?"

"The tables are for those of us who are in recovery. The chairs against the wall are for our sponsors, and friends."

"Sponsors?"

"Those who come alongside us. They hold us accountable. When you have a moment of weakness, instead of going to your addiction, you call your sponsor. He, or she, will help you get past your craving, and work through your issues."

Two guys and a pregnant woman walked in. They looked to be my age, and one of them looked strangely familiar. He had short, dark hair, a mustache, and a short-clipped goatee. He was fairly muscular. The other guy had reddish-brown hair, and an average build. He was clean shaven. The pregnant woman had straight, shoulder length, chocolate-brown hair.

After getting coffee, the two guys hugged. One sat down at a table. The one who seemed familiar sat with the woman in the back.

The guy with the horseshoe mustache got everyone's attention.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm pastor Mark Remington. I'm a staff pastor here. This is the third such group I've started, and for the sake of transparency, I'm a recovering alcoholic. I've been sober for seventeen years. For those who have never been to one of these groups, those in recovery will only give their first names."

Someone sitting by the wall asked, "How are the other groups you started? Are they still meeting?"

"Yes, they are thriving. I'm still in touch with those I handed the reins to, and they send me success stories. The first group currently has around forty participants, and a few of those in recovery also choose to become sponsors. Now, who wants to start the introductions?"

Someone called out, "You already did."

The next person to introduce himself was the guy who'd walked in with the guy who looked familiar.

"My name is Ty, and I'm an alcoholic. After five years of drinking, this is my third day of sobriety, and it's scary."

Pastor Mark asked, "Do you have a sponsor?"

"Yes, thank God. Reuben Whitaker, and his wife, Tabby, have been alongside me since I first started drinking. The other night they dragged me out of a party, and forced me to stay with Reuben's parents until tonight."

"Reuben is my cousin. His father, Robert, is my first cousin. You couldn't have better people helping you. Why did you start drinking?"

"Peer pressure. I was going to parties where alcohol was flowing, and I felt like I had to drink to fit in."

Oh, great. No wonder he seemed so familiar. Why did it have to be Reuben Whitaker?

"My name is Edward, and I'm an alcoholic."

"Welcome, Edward. How long have you been sober?"

"Six weeks. I've been drinking for four years."

"Why did you start drinking?"

"My family fell apart. I have an older sister I haven't had any contact with in the last nine years. My parents divorced, and I lost touch with my mom. It's just my dad and me. In fact, he's the reason I quit drinking. I made a solemn promise to him that I'd get sober."

"Do you have a sponsor yet?"

"Not yet."

"You gave your dad your solemn word, ask him to become your sponsor to help you keep that promise."

After the meeting ended, I wanted to run out the door. I was not that fortunate.

"Talmage." I stopped and turned to face Reuben.

He asked, "Are you serious about staying sober?"

"Do you doubt my sincerity?"

"What I think doesn't matter. I want to give you four reasons to get your act together."

"What four reasons?"

"Your sister, your nephew, and your twin nieces." As I walked away, he called out, "Make it five. Your mom still cares about you, too."

I walked out to my dad's car, and we left for home.

"Dad, did you know you have grandchildren?"

"Don't tell me you knocked up some woman."

"No, Amanda's kids. A boy, and twin girls. The pastor who's leading the group is the Whitakers' cousin. And Reuben Whitaker, the one who beat me so badly in middle school, is a sponsor."