Page 52 of Blue Umbrella Sky
Billy looked around. There was a mix of boredom, concern, apathy, and sympathy. Cross talk, or answering questions and offering opinions, was forbidden at meetings, so Billy didn’t really expect anything more than what was in front of him right here and right now.
“Anyway, that’s all I got. Thanks for listening.”
Brian, a heavy guy with a mass of wild white hair, had led the meeting. He thanked Billy for his share and then said they were all out of time. He asked the group to recite the seventh step prayer together. It asked the higher power to accept the good and the bad in each of them—and asked for strength as they went out into the day.
Billy wanted to ask Milt to do the same. He usually felt better after a share, kind of relieved, but today, he just felt more confused.
OUTSIDE INthe parking lot, Billy paused from unlocking his bike when he heard a soft voice behind him calling his name.
He turned to see a woman who’d sat quietly in the back of the room. She was older, maybe fifties, with dyed red hair and a lanky and tall body. A smattering of freckles spread, like a constellation, across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. When she smiled, she revealed a big gap between her front teeth. In spite of what some might call “defects,” Billy thought she was arresting, maybe even stunningly beautiful. Her wide green eyes regarded him with what Billy perceived as amusement.
He stood and extended his hand. “Hey.”
“Hi. I’m Char.” She looked at the bike and then back at him. “I liked your share.”
“You did? Thanks.” Billy affixed his bike lock to its proper place on his bicycle. He stood up straighter and moved toward Char. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been there.” She grinned and held up her left hand. With her right hand, she pointed to the simple gold band on her third finger. “Going on ten years now.”
“That’s great,” Billy said. “Happy?”
“Happiness is a fleeting thing. It comes and goes. But we’re solid. And… she’s a normie. In fact, this woman has a beer and it’s lampshade on her head time. She’s such a normie that she thinks alcoholics’ lives are like Lee Remick and Jack Lemmon in that old flick,Days of Wine and Roses. Ever see that one?”
“Oh yeah. Watched it with my sponsor once upon a time, to tell you the truth. I thought it was terrific—and rang true.”
“I guess you’re right. What I meant was it took me a while to convince Bridget, that’s the wife, that we’re not all like Lee Remick. Some of us are Jack Lemmon—we do recover.”
Billy nodded, remembering how Lee Remick’s character in the movie never could manage sobriety—and that factor was what led to the death of their love.
“My point is a relationship between someone in the program and a normiecanwork. It’s all about wanting it to.” Char looked faraway. “I guess that’s true for any relationship. Once you get past the initial ‘perfection’ stage, it’s all about a decision to make it work, huh?”
Billy nodded.
Char went on. “But you guys have to have common ground. You need to understand each other and what makes your relationship unique—its challenges. First and foremost, in my opinion, the normie has to be humble enough and loving enough to know that, for us, sobriety has to come first. Not our spouses. Sorry. Not our jobs, pets, kids. I know that sounds harsh, man, but I think you know what I’m sayin’ and why. If we let our sobriety take a back seat toanythingelse, we run the risk of letting our disease become active again—and you know as well as I do that can be a life-or-death thing. Unless we’re clean, we’re not much good to spouses, employers, pets, or even kids. We have to guard that.”
“Yeah. I get that,” Billy said. “Only I’m worried that he won’t. That he’ll feel slighted when I’m off to yet another meeting. Or I’m meeting, say, well,youfor coffee someday and he wants to come and I tell him no.”
“I know,” Char said. “And I’m not saying it’s easy. Hell, Bridge and I are still negotiating. We still have our differences. She still feels slighted sometimes, even accuses me of being brainwashed or in a cult.” Char laughed. “I’m sure you’ve heard it before too. But we make it work. Why? Because next to my sobriety, she’s my top priority. God, I love that woman!” Char’s face lit up with joy. “And she loves me in spite of all my, as we like to say, character defects. We make it work because we want it to work.
“I don’t know about you and your man. Early days, right?”
Billy nodded. He didn’t sayEven earlier than early days. If I’m lucky, we’re like a just-fertilized egg in the womb.
“Well, all I can say is that if this is going somewhere—and I think it is ’cause I saw the passion in your eyes and heard it in your words when you shared—you’ll work things out so that you can both protect what’s important, as well as be there for the other.
“Try to make him understand. But if you want my advice—and I know you didn’t ask for it, but I love to give it—don’t try to draw him into the program. Keep things a little separate. One thing is—normies and us just can’t ever completely ‘get’ each other, not in my experience. That’s why, even if this becomes soul mate territory for you, with a white picket fence and a shared Frenchie, you’ll never be able to get from him what you get from the rooms. Because we’re your people. Always. And these meetings, the steps, your sponsor, all that good shit will help keep you the best man you can be—for him.”
“Wow. Thanks, Char. I think you’ve helped me more than you know.”
“It weren’t nothin’.” She grinned.
They both knew it was something. But that was the beauty and the miracle of the program. They helped each other out with no more than a desire to be free and to share that freedom with another lost soul.
What Char had done this morning was momentous, but all in a day’s work too.
Billy hugged her. “Let’s do coffee sometime.”
“Sure thing, Billy. Take care.”
