“You’re what?” Jason is staring at me, as if he can’t believe what I’m telling him.
“I’m going to Nantucket to meet my family.”
“Okay. I mean, that sounds amazing. What an insane story.”
I laugh in disbelief. We are grabbing a quick coffee on Praed Street before the meeting. “I feel like you don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Meeting your long-lost family? I think it’s probably an excellent idea. I’m just worried about what’s going to happen to you, going away now.”
“Why?”
“They usually advise you not to make any big changes during your first year of sobriety.”
I don’t tell him that I’m … struggling with my sobriety. I need him to think I can do this; I have done this. The thought of his disappointment, of what he would say if he knew how I was letting him down, not as sober as I appear, fills me with terror. If he knew, then he would leave, and I’m pretty clear Jason is the best thing to have happened to me in a very long time.
“Please tell me you’re not going to tell me not to go. This is my father! My sisters!”
“I know, I know.” He has the grace to appear embarrassed at the very thought. “You’ll need to find meetings.”
“Absolutely.” I nod vigorously, although frankly that’s the last thing I’m thinking about. I need to find my family. Everything else is just gravy.
“You should talk to your sponsor about it. How’s that going, by the way?”
“Great,” I lie, making for the door. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
* * *
In today’s meeting, someone talks about pulling geographics. Apparently every time life got too painful, or she had alienated too many people, or fallen out with someone, or not wanted to deal with whatever was going on, she moved. She moved from London to Edinburgh, then to Cardiff, Bristol, Glasgow, and finally, when she was ready to reinvent herself entirely, back down to London again.
The group nodded, murmurs of self-knowing laughter, and I turned to find Jason looking at me with a raised eyebrow, as if that’s what I’m doing, which is completely ridiculous. I haven’t alienated anyone, my job is great, and the only thing that might be difficult to deal with, the meeting of my newly discovered family, I am dealing with head-on.
It is ridiculous that he seems to think I am pulling a geographic. Shaking my head at him with what I hope is a derisive look, I get up to go to the bathroom and take a break.
And once outside, in the hallway, I realize I really don’t want to go back in. I don’t want to listen to those people anymore. I don’t want to hear their stories or stand around the room at the end holding hands and saying the Serenity Prayer.
What I really want, what I really, really want, is a drink.
No, Cat, I tell myself. I don’t. I don’t want to let Jason down. Don’t want to let myself down. But nor do I want to listen to any more of this crap, and it is all starting to sound like crap. I whisper to Jason that I’m not feeling well, slip out the door, and make my way home.