The Sullivan Sisters

Dangerously Perfect Circles

At their meetings, they never sat in a circle. Some days, Paloma felt like she had very little to be grateful for but, for that, she was very grateful.

Circles were precariously intimate, as far as she was concerned. People sat too close, breathed too hard, and talked too much. That was how powerful the circle was.

Typically, the chairs were in structured rows of ten which extended Paloma the opportunity to take a seat in the very back, right-hand corner. That was the sweet spot, and, not to mention, the only reason she was willing to arrive early for each meeting.

Near the bathrooms, but not close enough to catch a whiff of any ungodly smells; a good distance from the table of day-old coffee and slightly stale doughnuts, thus eliminating any unwanted conversations that may arise; most importantly, the sweet spot was nearest to the exit.

At the end of each meeting, long after listening to her fellow members drone on about their greatest regrets, and just before reciting the mantra that was the supposed basis for their sobriety, Paloma would zip up her jacket, ready her keys, and pivot just right in preparation to make her hurried escape back to her car.

So, one could imagine her surprise when she arrived at the meeting that night to find the chairs arranged in a dangerously perfect circle. Everything in her wanted to turn around but then she remembered why she was there in the first place.

"You're all vulnerable right now. The fact that you're here proves that. It's late. Still, each and every one of you made the conscious decision to drop what you were doing and come here to be in this room with me. Of all the places you could've gone, you came to this one."

The meeting coordinator wasn't the same woman Paloma was used to. This woman was rather beautiful. Long, raven hair, probably Korean, and no older than thirty-four. She didn't look like an alcoholic. Or a former one, according to her. Then again, Paloma liked to think that she didn't look like an alcoholic either.

"That being said, though your attendance tonight proves how important your sobriety is to all of you, attending this emergency meeting means that you're not quite stable yet. There are triggers all around you that could potentially set you off at any given time." The woman uncrossed her legs, surveyed the humble group around her, then smiled. "But coming here also means you're getting there."

Paloma couldn't bring herself to smile back, even when the woman's soft, brown eyes fell on her own. She did, however, manage to join in on the mantra which was intended to give her strength of some sort but that was hardly ever the case for Paloma. Attending an emergency meeting surely didn't change that.

Besides, Paloma knew exactly what her trigger was. She worked alongside it three times a week. She used to go home to it; share a bed with it; even make love to it. It was a trigger that she doubted would ever stop being just that.

"When you leave here tonight, I would suggest that you don't go home. As you know, temptation will follow. Facing your demons head-on is always encouraged, but I recognize that that's not always an option for everyone. I find that actively participating in an activity that requires your attention helps. Me? I'll be swinging by the IHOP on Hilton road for a cup of coffee for all those interested in joining me."

The woman had gotten more than a few takers but Paloma wasn't one of them. But that didn't mean she could go home either. She hated when Quinn saw her in the kind of state she was in that night. Snappy, jittery, and impatient. Not at all like herself; or how she liked to think of herself, at least.

Then again, these days, she felt like her old self perished a long time ago, leaving nothing but a vacant shell of who she used to be. She really hoped the current version of herself didn't plan to stick around for much longer because her resilience was fading fast. Paloma was starting to wonder if she had any in the first place or worse—if it was the alcohol that gave it to her all along.