Page 102 of Outspoken

Now that I’ve had so much time alone to think, I know what I want. I’m ready to admit that I’ve caught feelings, as crazy as that is. And as crazy as he is for still liking me and fawning over me after everything he’s seen, I figured we could try a few dates and have dinner with Brody and Paige. Then we’ll go from there. As long as he doesn’t try to rush everything or get me moving in with him, maybe we could even become official with labels.

I’m kind of liking the idea of calling him my boyfriend.

With a sigh, I drop my phone in my purse and move to the snack table. After grabbing a stale blueberry muffin, I head toward the exit of the conference room. There’s a small folding table next to the door with a few piles of flyers. I glance at it mindlessly, intending to catch a few words as I scurry out. But a bright pink flyer makes me stop. I grab the sheet of paper and read the title:Seeking Mentors for Teens Dealing with Substance Abuse.

It goes on to say a local charity organization is looking for adults who are either in recovery or have experience with someone who abuses substances to help teens trying to detox. Some teens aren’t in programs yet and some are in recovery and trying not to relapse.

A mentor might be good for Angel, who I’ve been thinking about. I know I only met him once, but I’m worried about the kid. Maybe I could pass on this flyer to Miguel or send him the website for the organization.

I bite into my muffin and chew as I read more. I’ve never thought about mentoring, so I’m curious. Not that I’d actually do it.

The flyer says the mentoring schedule is flexible. They have mandatory training sessions that potential mentors have to attend, and you have to fill out an application and get selected first. I wonder what you do with the teenagers, though. Just hang out and go to the movies? Or are you supposed to give them some sage advice from your lived experiences?

I doubt I should give advice to anyone considering—

“I’ve been one of their mentors,” Eric says behind me.

I gasp, almost choking on my muffin.

He laughs, patting my back as I cough. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

I swallow and then smile at him. “Well, you did.”

He nods at the flyer I’m holding, flashing his bleach-white veneers. “Do you have any questions? They’re one of my favorite organizations. They do a lot of amazing work for youths.”

“Um, I have questions, but I’m not sure it makes sense to ask because I honestly don’t think I’d make a good mentor. I didn’t share tonight but…” I lower my gaze. Miguel is still the only one who knows about the party, but these meetings are where you’re supposed to be able to talk about addiction. The words are heavy, but I force them out. “Um, I had a slip-up last month. I drank. It was only one night, but that probably disqualifies me from mentoring anyone.”

Eric lets out a slow, long breath, as if he can feel the weight of my setback. “Thank you for sharing that with me. Looking at the positive, you has a slip-up and are now one month sober again.” He pulls several chips from his jeans pocket like he carries them around everywhere he goes, handing them out like candy. After sifting through a few, he holds one out that reads, 1M. Then he grins. “Here’s your one-month sober chip. I’m proud of you, Amber.”

I try to dismiss his gesture, but my nose stings as I stuff the flyer in my purse so I can take the chip. “Thanks.” I clear my throat. “You know, I have a pile of these at home.”

“You don’t have a chip for your recent month sober. The ones you earn after relapse are some of the most significant.”

Turning the chip in my palm and forcing myself not to get weepy over some stupid token, I say, “I haven’t forgotten what you told me—finding something more powerful than my addiction.”

He grins, his green eyes sparkling. “I’m happy to hear that. How is the search going?”

“Nowhere. I mean, maybe. There’s someone in my life who makes me forget I’m an addict and a fuck-up, but I really don’t know what I’m doing with anything—school, career, love life.” I squeeze the chip. “Is it always this way? This hard for everyone?”

Smoothing his hands over his stomach, he nods thoughtfully. “It can be. I’ve felt lost many times, even after I gained confidence in my ability to remain sober. What helps me is reflecting on what I’m grateful for and focusing on what gives my life meaning. You don’t need to have all the answers or know where you’re going, you only need to stay grounded in meaning. You can face anything as long as you graspwhyyou’re choosing to say no. That’s what a powerful force provides. It reminds you that despite the setbacks and urges to abuse, there’s something greater. Meaning isn’t just found in one thing, though. Why not try mentoring? Try a lot of things to see what resonates.”

“I’m not disqualified because I drank?”

He laughs. “No. What these kids need is an adult who understands their challenges and who can offer support. Many of them haven’t had stable homes, so a trusted mentor gives them someone they can rely on. You don’t have to be perfect, only present.”

“They just need someone to show up?”

“Exactly. Isn’t that what all of us want?”

I nod, thinking of how Miguel appeared in the kitchen at that party. He didn’t talk down to me. He wasn’t mad. He was simply there. He’s been there for me through so many rough days. Though I still question if he likes me for who I am or if he’s only desperate for a relationship, I can’t ignore how much he’s been in my life when I needed support.

And my silly heart aches from missing him.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice quieter. “Thanks. I’ll think about mentoring.” It might feel good to help some teenager with a crappy life start.Or I could fail and make them hate mentors forever.

Eric squeezes my shoulder. “Good. I’m here if you have any questions. And I hope to see you at another meeting.”

I nod again and he walks to a small group that’s chatting in a corner.

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