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The bible study room in the First Lutheran Church in Fort Lauderdale was really, really hot. Faith dabbed her forehead with the dry washcloth she’d brought with her and looked around at the others. There were people wearing sweaters. And a homeless looking man standing in the back had on an oversized coat. He tipped his curly head at her and it gave her the creeps. He looked familiar; she’d probably seen him before at other meetings. She looked away.

It must just be her. She rubbed her sweaty hands together. She was so nervous. She wiped them on the washcloth and put it back in her purse. Then took it out again. The room smelled of freshly brewed coffee. It always did at these meetings.

She looked over at Jarrod, who was seated beside her on a metal folding chair. He was rubbing her back.

‘You’ll be OK,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

They’d done this, her and him, a few times already. They’d come in and sat away from other people and listened to the sometimes tragic and sometimes inspiring stories of the others. Some meetings there were a lot of people in the room. At others there were only a couple. Each venue was different and Faith never liked to stay in one place, lest someone recognize her and say something. It had only been six weeks. People would forget and move on eventually. And even if they didn’t, she and Jarrod and Maggie were going to. It was time to leave South Florida and start somewhere fresh, for all three of them. Jarrod liked New York. He had to take the New York bar first, but he’d already spoken with some firms and they were very interested. Finding a new home for him should not be difficult. Faith had checked out the schools on Long Island; they seemed to have good programs for emotionally disturbed and developmentally delayed children. As for Sweet Sisters, it was time to start fresh there, too. Jarrod insisted that people in New York ate cupcakes, and when she got herself back together again one day maybe she would do another start-up. Or maybe she’d dust off that manuscript and try and rewrite it. Now that she had some experience with the legal system, it would give her crime fiction voice some authenticity. Or maybe she’d just be a mom to Maggie. Her girl needed her more than ever now. And Faith needed to be needed.

She was required to go to AA meetings twice a week for the five years of her probation. Considering she should have been in jail, she was very grateful. The most she could do though, so far, was sit and listen. It was funny, because when she was at The Meadows, she could say the words they wanted to hear with ease, because she didn’t mean them. But now that she meant them, she couldn’t say them.

Technically, Jarrod was not supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to attend AA if he wasn’t an addict. But no one asked questions and she’d noticed that there were a few other people who brought their emotional support blankets with them. The truth was, she couldn’t do this without him. She might one day in the future be able to, but right now she needed to know he was here with her. That she wasn’t alone. And that he really did mean it when he said he wouldn’t be leaving.

‘How are you feeling?’ she whispered in his ear. ‘You want to go?’

He shook his head and gave her a smile and a thumbs-up. She knew he was really tired and that his chest was probably hurting, but he would never admit it. She was trying to get past everything they’d been through together, but looking at him was hard sometimes. The guilt made her cry a lot. But every day got a little better and at the end of each one he was still there. Now there was the adventure of New York to look forward to, and a future full of new memories to make. That’s what got her through the tough parts. And there were a lot of those, no lie.

Today there were about thirty-five people gathered in the bible study room. No one knew her. No one recognized her, or if they did, they didn’t care. They were there, she knew, because they had far bigger problems. Or were hard at work trying to fix those problems. She didn’t look at anyone for too long, and they didn’t look at her. They didn’t call it Alcoholics Anonymous without reason.

The chairperson entered the room and walked past the rows of fold-up chairs to the front of the room where there was a small table set up. On it were pitchers of water and plastic cups. And coffee. Always plenty of freshly brewed coffee.

Vernon was his name. He was a kind-looking African American man in his fifties, with a soft face and a hesitant smile. He led the group with the Serenity Prayer: ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.’

She reached for Jarrod’s hand. He squeezed it hard.

Then Vernon asked the question that had her holding her breath. ‘Is there anyone here who would like to tell their story?’

It was time and she knew it. Jarrod didn’t nudge her or say anything. He sat there, staring impassively straight ahead.

She stood. Her knees were knocking together, but she was standing.

‘Come forward,’ said Vernon, gesturing toward the podium. It reminded her of the courtroom, something she wished she could forget.

She walked cautiously to the podium and looked out at the crowd. The homeless man with the curly hair in the back was gone. She felt strangely relieved.

‘My name is Faith,’ she began in a small, shaky voice that she hoped one day would sound strong again. She looked over at Jarrod. ‘And I am an alcoholic …’