North & West

Ten

“North, are you drunk?”

I looked over at West, the metal seat I was sitting on squeaking a bit when I turned towards him. I pressed a finger to my lips and furiously whispered, “Shh. . .” to him, before glancing around to see if anyone had heard him.

I'd given into my urge to drink, yet again. At first, it had been just a swig of the wine my mother had left in her glass in the sink. She'd left a napkin over it as if it would conceal that she'd been drinking and still had some left, but I noticed anyway.

And then I'd quickly climbed the steps, pushing back the covers hanging over my bed and pulling out the extra bottle of Jack Daniel's that I had left from my last visit with Kevin. I hadn't drank enough to be considered drunk, but I was definitely enjoying a bit of a buzz, the warmth from the whiskey I'd drank still setting in my stomach like a comforting presence.

If only I had remembered that it was one of the night's where I had to attend an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

“Are you serious?” West hissed through what I could see were clenched teeth, his jaw was tight and he looked borderline angry – a look I'd never seen directed my way from his face.

I looked away from him, the sloppy smile dropping from my face when I felt the cool presence of shame wash over me, almost completely extinguishing the warmth I'd been reveling in. It didn't feel so good when West seemed to be disappointed in me.

I focused on the woman speaking in the front. She often spoke at the meetings I attended, her voice confident even when she spoke about the hardships she'd endured, and it seemed that she sure endured many. Although it was an AA meeting, half of the title dealing with being anonymous, I'd come to find that many didn't remain that way.

It wasn't a requirement to share your name, but many did. I'd yet to share mine, somehow believing that that would make me different from the rest of the recovering and still fully addicted alcoholics in the room. But every now and again – like that very moment, with West's clenched jaw in my peripheral vision – I felt lower than even the ones who abused the ones around them because of their addiction.

After listening to the woman speak, her hand beginning to shake when she mentioned that she'd relapsed and willingly handed back her six month coin to the person in charge of this week's meeting, I got out of my seat and headed to the refreshment table.

I grabbed a couple of sugar cookies and a bottle of water, hoping for once that I'd sober up quickly, instead of enjoy the long effects of the alcohol I put into my body. When I came back, raising the cookie to my mouth, West sighed heavily, almost as if he'd been holding a large weight for a portion of the night.

“I'm not mad, okay? It's just really not the best time to being doing this, North, and I worry about you.” He admitted, gently brushing his fingers across my cheek.

I moved my face away from his hand, almost missing the contact as soon as I'd pulled away from it. But I'd started to feel something, something strange and not unlike the warmth I felt from the whiskey. I knew it could only be called feelings, something other than I'd been letting on, and even in my hazy state, I knew that was never a good idea. 

“It's fine, you're right, I fucked up,” I agreed, my voice quieter than I'd intended. No one appeared to be listening to us, and I was glad for that little victory, seeing as the shame I'd originally been feeling only seemed to sweep more over me, blanketing me more entirely the more West looked at me with understanding evident on his face.

“We all fuck up, it's part of being human.” He told me, his eyes on my face, even as I continued to stare up front at the empty podium.

I shrugged, drumming my fingers against my thigh and staring at the clock, watching as the little red hand moved around the numbers, even the seconds seeming to drag on. I noticed, a bit to my surprise, that my hands were now shaking, either due to what West had said or due to my own inability to stay still.