Chapter Eight

“You about done? I really need to pee,” Marcus called through the bathroom door, accompanied with a burst of short bangs on the door.

Eric was sitting on the toilet seat, his head in his hands as he listened to the sound of the running shower. Water noisily hit the base of the bathtub and steam slowly filled the room. Raising his head, he stared at the spray. He had been okay. Even after CJ’s call, he had managed to hold it together. Everything had been fine until he had caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror and his façade of okayness had crumbled. Now he was sitting in the bathroom trying not to have a full-blown meltdown.

“Eric?” Marcus said. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute,” Eric called as he got to his feet, letting his towel drop from his waist and to the floor. Stepping into the bathtub, he pulled the curtain behind him and moved under the warm water. The spray was powerful as it hit his chest and created a prickling sensation to sweep across his skin. He just had to get things right in his head again. He was here to get better, to escape the lure of drink and sex and never-ending fuckups. The water circled the drain and he watched it spin and bubble. It was an expression, right? Circling the drain? He certainly felt like he was right now, and he would quite happily let himself get sucked down with the water.

Shit. He needed a fucking drink. Closing his eyes, he stepped farther under the spray and let water pound down on the top of his head. The rhythm seemed to ease the need of alcohol a little, though the bitter memory of the numbing liquid spiked in his throat. A week. One solitary week. Was that all it had been? His insides were crying out for the sweet release of whiskey, vodka, beer, anything. His headache had faded a little, but he was still irritable as hell and so close to just calling it a day. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to change. Maybe he was exactly who he was supposed to be.

Running his hand through his wet hair, he pulled his bangs back from his face as he moved from under the shower. He wiped the water from his eyes and looked up at the white ceiling of the bathroom. He stared enviously at the blank space, wishing he knew how he could wipe away the last seven years. With a sigh, he turned off the water and stepped down onto his towel. Curling his toes in the material, he pressed his mouth in a thoughtful line. He needed something more if he was going to get through this, he realized, and picked up his towel.

“Marcus?” Eric said as he pulled open the bathroom door, cool air hitting him in the face as stepped into the corridor.

“What?” Marcus leaned out of his bedroom and raised a puzzled eyebrow. “Okay?”

“You got that list?”

“List?” Was Marcus being clueless on purpose? Did he want Eric to say it out loud?

Fine. He could do that. “Do you have the list of meetings?”

Marcus’s eyes brightened. “Give me five. I’ll find it for you.”

Eric rested against the side of the corridor. Any longer and he might end up changing his mind again. He wasn’t sure he was brave enough to see this through as it was.

“Okay,” he said. He could do this. “Okay.”

* * * *

The Falls Church Hall was painted in a strange shade of lilac, the wooden chairs hurt his ass and there was a weird musty smell. Eric slid lower in his seat at the rear of the hall and pulled the collar of his jacket higher and around his chin. If anyone had noticed him, they hadn’t made it obvious, and he was happy to believe he was totally inconspicuous hiding out on the back row in the long room. The twenty or so rows of chairs were split in two by an aisle running the center of the hall. There were roughly twenty people sitting in the front half of the hall. He and one other guy had chosen to take seats near the back. Maybe Eric and him were both the unsure newbies of the group?

Eric had sat and listened for the last fifteen minutes to a bunch of stuff he wasn’t sure he cared about. Sure the welcome had been okay, but he wasn’t interested in signing up for workshops, or how the power of God had helped Mrs Bryant, his freaking kindergarten teacher, stop drinking for twelve years, or how there would be tea and coffee at the end of the meeting. What he wanted was a real, solid, hold in his hand solution, a cure, the answer to everything. Surely, he wasn’t asking for too much, was he?

The room fell silent and Eric fixed his attention on the next member of the group to take to the stage. Sitting up, he then slid to the edge of his seat. He rested his chin on his arm as he leaned on the back of the chair in front of him.

“Hi. I’m Jodie.”

Well, fuck me.

“Hi, Jodie,” the group said in a low unified rumble.

“I’m an alcoholic and I haven’t had a drink in four years.” She paused and shifted her focus down the hall. “I confess I’ve been tempted and very much so recently.” Her eyes found Eric’s. Was she blaming him? “I just wanted to tell everyone here, new, old or ancient.” She scanned the front row and a handful of people laughed. “We can overcome. No matter what you believe the answer is—the power of God, the power of this group or perhaps the power inside ourselves. It’s not important how we got to the point where we said enough. Be it twelve years, four years or a week ago, or even just yesterday. The road to recovery isn’t quick or easy. I know that. There are successes and setbacks, support and temptations. It’s been a learning curve and four years on, I’m still learning. I think we all are.”

Eric averted his eyes, staring at the seat in front of him as he listened to Jodie outline her journey. Seven years ago, she had taken her first drink beyond that of a normal twenty-three year old and four years ago she had taken her last. There were no excuses, no blame and no explanation of how she had gotten herself in a bad situation. Instead, she shared the moment she realized she couldn’t keep doing it to herself or the people she loved. Things had gotten on top of her and alcohol was the crutch she’d reached out for and she had reached out for it again just the other day. She had sat at her kitchen table and stared at the bottle of wine for what must have been ten minutes. But she hadn’t taken a drink, because she knew there was a better answer, a better way.

“To anyone who has come here for the first time and is perhaps thinking how can any of this help me? Just know that it can. We can. You can.” There was a short burst of applause as Jodie made her way off stage and a middle-aged man took her place at the front.

Eric wasn’t sure he dare lift his head. He didn’t want to see her piercing blue eyes looking in his direction. She might not have said it aloud, but he knew she blamed him. Seven years? That reference was as subtle as a slap to his face. With a heavy sigh, he pressed his hand to his mouth. Gently, he soothed a line across his cheek bone and down to his jaw. He was pretty sure he was jinxed. First CJ and now Jodie. Thanks to Marcus he must look like some creepy stalker. Resigned to the fact that no matter what he did his life seemed destined to entwine with the siblings, Eric slumped in his seat and tried to relax.

The next fifteen minutes were filled with stories from other members, and even Mr Newbie, who had been sitting with Eric at the back, had gotten up to take his turn. The group was then invited to socialize over coffee served at the front of the hall, and Eric decided it was time for him to leave. He wasn’t ready to talk to these people.

“Eric.”

Damn it all to hell. Eric wasn’t quick enough. “Jodie,” he said, his eyes darting from one member to another as they walked by.

Jodie glanced over her shoulder at the gathering crowd of people. She flicked her tongue out to moisten her lips, before looking back at Eric. “I wondered what the chances were,” she said and folded her arms across her chest. “Of all the meetings, you turn up at this one.”

The list Marcus had given him that morning had been surprisingly long. There were open and closed meetings, meetings for women and meetings for men, meetings with guest speakers, and meetings morning, noon, afternoon and evening.

“It’s a popular one, I guess. Time for people to get their heads in the right place after a long week and Friday night temptation.” Leaving a gap between her and Eric, Jodie sat down at the end of the row of seats. She studied him for a moment then asked, “Is that why you’re here? The temptation of a night out on the town?”

Eric gave a humorless laugh. Even if he was tempted, there was no one to help satisfy the need. Marcus certainly wouldn’t go out drinking with him, and with no friends to speak of in town… Eric didn’t fancy a night out by himself. If anything would have him going crazy, it would be his own company. A quiet night in with his parents and their Murder, She Wrote DVD box set seemed to be the best offer on the cards tonight.

“Or not,” Jodie said and slowly began to curl her finger in a lock of her blonde hair. “So, why are you here? You didn’t introduce yourself.”

“I didn’t think it was compulsory.”

Jodie shook her head. “It’s not.” Her eyes held questions as they met his and a sad smile spread across her face. “Would you like to get a drink?”

Eric narrowed his eyes.

“A coffee,” Jodie elaborated.

Eric glanced over her shoulder at the other members. He didn’t want to introduce himself on stage or over coffee, because if he did, it meant he had to be serious about doing this. People would expect him to change, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to do that just yet. The way he felt at the moment, he’d be failing within a week.

“Not here,” Jodie said in a low voice and moved into his personal space. “The coffee’s terrible.” She grinned, waiting for Eric’s answer.

This was undoubtedly a dumb idea, but what the hell, right? Jodie already hated him, so how much worse could it possibly get? “Okay,” he decided. “Coffee sounds good.”

* * * *

The walk to the coffee shop had been accompanied by an uncomfortable silence. Eric hadn’t been sure where to look or what to say. He’d just felt incredibly awkward. Once they’d ordered coffee and a slab of carrot cake each, the two had taken a table in the coffee shop’s window and the silence had returned.

Eric sipped his milky coffee. Curiosity ate away at him and he couldn’t resist asking. “Does he know about the meetings?” he said and rested his mug against the arm of the comfy chair.

Jodie didn’t say anything at first and merely looked at him from over the top of her mug. She tapped a finger against the rim, before putting it on the low table between them. “No, he doesn’t,” she said as she leaned back and crossed her legs. The heavy boots she wore drew Eric’s eyes and he brought his legs together. He could almost feel the imagined threat of her kicking him in the jewels should CJ ever find out. “He doesn’t need to.”

It must be nice to be able to have a secret. Eric nodded and distracted himself with his drink. Why had he said yes to coffee?

“He has enough to deal with at the moment.”

Eric lifted his eyes and met hers. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Like you’d care,” Jodie said. There was a hint of hostility in her voice as she looked toward the window and outside.

“That’s not fair,” Eric said without thinking. He didn’t want to get into an argument, but he wouldn’t have her believing he didn’t care.

Jodie narrowed her eyes and seemed to fix her sight on something in the street. Anger radiated from her as she rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and pressed her hand to her mouth. “Disappearing for seven years is a funny way of showing you do.” She turned her head and looked at him as if waiting for him to defend himself.

A lump formed in Eric’s throat and he struggled to swallow back the guilt of what he had done. “I was stupid to leave. I know that. But I was a dumb kid and I freaked. I wish there was a better answer, but that’s all there is.” He lowered his eyes and stared into the murky white-brown liquid in his mug. Maybe if I stare long enough it’ll turn into something a little stronger.

“I get that you panicked and ran away. But seven years without so much as a phone call? It was cruel.”

There was nothing Eric could say to that. He’d been foolish and selfish and all kinds of stupid. He’d paid the price, though—lost the man he loved, and had carried the hurt and regret of that one youthful mistake with him for the last seven years.

“It took CJ a long time to get over you.” She paused and shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t think he ever really has.” She took up her mug and wrapped her hands around it. “I see how he looks at you—the what ifs.”

Now who was being cruel? Eric knew very well about what ifs. He’d had plenty of them and plenty of time to think in the last seven years. “What do you want, Jodie? Do you want me to leave? Is that it? Fine, I won’t go back to the Grove. I’ll sit indoors for the next week and then fuck off back to LA and neither of you will ever have to see me again. Would that make you happy? Would that make it all okay?” Right now, if she told him to, he’d take up bungee jumping without the bungee.

A smile crept over her lips, but then it just as quickly faded. “As much as I would like to say yes, I wouldn’t do it to CJ. He has this funny idea that you could actually do the Grove some good.”

Some good? How the hell could he do anybody or anything some good? “What do you mean?” He looked at Jodie, who shied away from the question. She had said more than she had meant to. “Hey, don’t go holding back now. Why would he think I could, or even need me to do anything for that place?”

Jodie let out a held breath and fixed her gaze on Eric. She was clearly deciding what to do—to tell him, or not? Averting her eyes, she glanced around the coffee shop. An old couple sat against the far wall and a family of four, mom, dad and teenage daughters, were sitting on the high stools near the counter. There was no one close enough to listen in.

“Do you know how many businesses have closed in the last three years?” she asked. When Eric shook his head, she continued. “Oakland is becoming a ghost town. If you aren’t selling what people need, you’re done. The rent went up, spending went down. Some stores have survived by cutting costs, cutting staff or finding markets online.” Sadness clouded her eyes. “CJ has put everything into West Grove and there’s nothing left. He works a second job. Grants from when he opened the center no longer exist. Local businesses don’t have the money to sponsor us anymore. I’m just scared he’s going to get himself into a huge financial mess.”

Eric could understand how this would have her reaching for a drink. “How much does he need?” He had savings, a Porsche he never drove, a house big enough to sleep eight. He could set CJ and the center up for years if that’s what Jodie wanted him to do.

Putting down her coffee, Jodie snorted a laugh. “He’s not some problem, some one-night fuck you can just throw money at and make it all better.” She narrowed her eyes. “Besides, he’d never take your money.”

“Then, what?”

Folding her arms, Jodie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he figured having a celebrity would increase the profile of the place or…I don’t know.” With a sigh, she rested her head in her hand and stared at Eric. “But I know he can’t lose it and I can’t see him go through something like that again.” She looked back toward the window. “I won’t.”