Starting Over (Treading Water Trilogy) (8 page)

Colin nodded with understanding. He would feel the same way, but he couldn’t help feeling for Brandon, too.

On Sunday evening, after he got home from Boston, Colin took the company truck to the gas station on Main Street to fill it up for the busy week ahead. If he allowed himself to think too hard about what he had to accomplish in the next six days, he’d never be able to sleep. He’d been working for his father’s company for eighteen years and could remember when there used to be an off-season. These days, they stayed busy year round, and it took serious planning and coordination to ensure there was plenty of indoor work for the men during the cold weather. Most winters they also spent many long, dark nights plowing snow, but this year had been a rare exception to that rule.

Colin used his company credit card to pay for the gas and was zoning out watching the numbers click by on the pump when someone called to him. Looking up, he saw Meredith from Al-Anon using the pump across from him, looking adorable in a puffy pink hat over her shiny dark hair.

“Hi, there.” He was delighted to see her and wondered what he should make of that.

“How are you? We missed you on Friday night. Did we scare you away last week?”

“Not at all. I was sorry to miss it this week, but I was in Boston for my brother’s birthday. The big four-oh.”

“Sounds like fun.”
“It was, but the hotel will never be the same.”

Her laughter was almost delicate. She finished pumping her gas and took her receipt from the printer.

“Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” he asked before she could get away.

She smiled. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

“Is Priscilla’s open this late?”

“I think so. Meet you there?”

“If this thing ever gets its fill of gas, I’ll be there.”

Colin arrived at Priscilla’s fifteen minutes later to find that Meredith had already commandeered a booth.

“Sorry that took so long,” he said when he slid in across from her. She wore a pink sweater, and her cheeks were flushed as if she’d spent most of the day outdoors. “That thing’s a gas guzzler.” He removed his “Chatham Townie” ball cap and put it on the seat next to him.

“Afraid to be mistaken for a tourist?” Meredith asked, amused by the hat.

“God forbid.”

“I noticed the logo on your truck. A friend of mine worked for O’Malley Construction years ago. Paul Tobin. Do you know him?”

Colin realized two things in that moment—his cover was blown, and he didn’t really care. “Sure, I know Paul. He worked for us three or four summers while he was in college. About ten years ago?”

“I think that’s about right. You were his boss?”

“One of them.” He extended a hand to her. “Colin O’Malley.”

She seemed impressed as she shook his hand. “Meredith Chase. I see your company’s trucks everywhere.”

“I guess we’re not anonymous anymore,” Colin said, relieved there were no rings on her left hand and again wasn’t sure why it mattered so much.

She shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ve met some of my best friends through Al-Anon. It’s important we never discuss what happens at the meetings or who we saw there, but there’s no rule about being friends outside the Family Group.”

“I can see how the anonymity helps with inhibitions.”

The waitress came to take their order, and Colin ordered two slices of Priscilla’s famous apple pie to go with their coffee.

“How’s your brother doing?” Meredith asked.

“I’m not sure. He’ll be home Tuesday, so I guess we’ll see then. I wish I’d discovered Al-Anon sooner. I sure could’ve used it the last few years.”

“Is this his first time in rehab?”

“Yes.”

“It might not be his last time, though. You know that, right?”

“I’m cautiously optimistic. He hit a real low point right before he went into rehab, and I think it might’ve been enough to wake him up. At least I hope so.”

“I hope so, too. Do you have a big family? You’ve mentioned two brothers.”

“Three brothers and a sister, who finally became useful to her brothers when she had five kids in five years and took the pressure off us to produce grandchildren.”

Meredith laughed as their coffee and pie was delivered. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this pie,” she moaned a minute later. “I’ll have to be on best behavior for a week.”

Colin chuckled at her dismay. She was by no means heavy. Rather she seemed curvy in all the places that mattered. “So you know all about me, but I know nothing about you.”

She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I grew up in Orleans, and I teach fifth grade in Brewster. I have my parents, a sister, a nephew, a cat, and a lot of good friends. Pretty boring, really.”

“That doesn’t sound boring at all. Do you live here in Chatham now?”

She nodded. “Stepping Stones Road. What about you?”

“I have a house on Oyster Bay Lane off Cedar Street.”

“Near the pond?”

He nodded.

“Did you grow up here?”

“Yep. My parents still live in the same house on Shore Road.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, I love it out there. I walk on the beach at Chatham Light every chance I get.”

“We always say the O’Malleys keep the neighborhood humble. My parents were there long before it became swanky. In fact, in a move that I’m sure made the neighbors cringe, my mother had the house painted Pepto-Bismol pink two years ago.”

“I know that house! I love it!”

Colin groaned. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not. It’s so whimsical.”

“If you ever meet my mother, you can’t tell her that.”

Meredith laughed. “I’m not making any promises.” She reached for the check, but Colin swiped it away from her.

“This is on me.”

“Thank you,” she said with a faint blush to her cheeks that he found charming.

He paid the check and walked her to her car. The temperature had dropped during the hour they’d spent at Priscilla’s.

“Is it supposed to snow?” she asked.

“Not that I’ve heard, but it sure smells like snow, doesn’t it?”

She glanced up at him. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Colin found that he couldn’t look away from her. “Can we do this again? Maybe dinner next time?”

She got busy finding her keys in her purse. “I don’t think so, Colin. But thanks for asking and for the pie.”

“Sure,” he said, holding the car door for her.

“I’ll see you at the meeting.”

He stood there for a long time after she drove away, feeling more disappointed than he’d been in a long time.

Chapter 8, Day 30

Brandon felt the heat of all eyes on him. After several minutes of awkward silence, Steve, the group leader, zeroed in on him. “Brandon?”

Brandon nodded as a bead of sweat rolled down his back.
Is it hot in here, or is it me?
Finally, he cleared his throat, and without looking up, he said, “My name is Brandon, and…uh, I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Brandon,” the group replied.

“I, um, I want to say that even though I haven’t said anything before now, I’ve been listening, and you all have helped me a lot. So thank you for that.” He released a long deep breath and looked over at Steve. “This is hard.”

“Take your time.”

After another long pause, Brandon continued. “I’ve learned a lot about myself and my drinking in the last month. I think I’ve always known I didn’t drink the way other people did, but I never gave it much thought before now. My brothers and I would go out for a few beers, even when we were just old enough to drink, and they’d have two or three, but I’d down six in an hour. In the last couple of years, it would take me at least a twelve-pack to catch a buzz, so I started adding shots of whiskey to the mix. I was, uh, drinking so much I blacked out almost every day for the last few months before I came here. During those blackouts, I did a lot of shameful things—things I’ll be dealing with for a long time.”

Brandon took a drink from the cup of ice water he’d brought to the meeting and discovered his hand was trembling.

“Most of my life, I’ve kept some pretty big secrets that have festered into even larger resentments. All of that combined to bring me here, and I have a lot of amends to make when I get home.”

Brandon looked up to find Alan leaning against the back wall.

He smiled and nodded with encouragement.

Fueled by his new friend’s support, Brandon sat up a little straighter in his chair. “I’ve been told my attitude has changed a lot in the last thirty days, and I feel better physically than I have in years. So I just want to say I’m very determined to stay sober, and I’ll be hoping all of you are successful, too. Thank you.”

The group embarrassed him with their applause. “Thank you, Brandon,” they said in unison.

“Keep going to meetings,” Steve reminded him. “We recommend ninety meetings in the first ninety days. We’ve found that’s how you set a pattern that lasts a lifetime.”

“I will,” Brandon promised.

When the meeting was over, Brandon went to talk to Alan. They shook hands.

“You did great, Brandon.”

“I didn’t say much.”

“You said enough. How do you feel?”

“Relieved. I’d been kind of dreading that.”

“It’s always a big deal to say the words, ‘I’m an alcoholic,’ for the first time in a room full of people you hardly know.”

“I
do
know them. Maybe not personally, in some cases, but I understand them better than most people would. After all, I’m one of them, right?”

Alan nodded with satisfaction. “I’m proud of you, Brandon. You’ve come so far from the day we first met, and it seems like you really get it now.”

“That means a lot coming from you.”

“How’re you doing with the spiritual issues we discussed?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of reading and thinking about it.”

“That’s a good start. Remember, AA only encourages you to relate to a higher power as
you
define it.” Alan reached for his wallet and withdrew his card. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

Brandon laughed as he accepted the card. “I won’t throw it away this time.”

“Call me—any time.”

“I will.” Brandon shook Alan’s hand. “Thank you for everything.”

“I’ll pray for you.”

“Thanks, Alan.”

“So what do you think, Brandon?” Sondra asked at their final session. Brandon’s father would be arriving soon to drive him home. “Ready to go back out and face the world?”

“I hope so. I feel good. Better than I have in a long time.”

“How’s the running going?”

“I’m up to five miles, and I’ve been lifting weights. I don’t feel like I’m going to die from the effort anymore.”

“You look much better than you did the first time we met.”

“Yeah, well, my brother’s fist hasn’t been near my face in a month, so I should look better.”

Sondra smiled. “How about inside? You know what you have to do?”

Brandon nodded. “Ninety meetings in ninety days, get a sponsor, read the
Big Book
, make my amends to the people I’ve hurt, and stay sober—not necessarily in that order.”

“Yes, staying sober needs to be first on your list.”

“I just worry about…”

“What?”

“Events where everyone’s drinking—family dinners, weddings, parties… My family is forever celebrating something, and everyone drinks—not like I did—but alcohol is part of every gathering.”

“It’s very important that you not get too far ahead of yourself. Take each day and each event as they come. The only thing any of us really has is right now. Stay sober today. Worry about tomorrow
tomorrow
.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“All you can do is keep your own side of the street clean. You’ll hear that expression often in AA.”

Brandon smiled. “I like it.”

“I see clients in town on Wednesday and Friday afternoons if you’d like to continue your therapy. Call my service to make an appointment.” She stood up and went to her desk. When she came back, she held a leather-bound book and a business card, which she handed to him. “My cell number’s on there, too. Feel free to use it. I’m just a phone call away if you ever need me.”

The lump in his throat surprised Brandon. The support he’d received here had been overwhelming, and he had no doubt they’d saved his life by teaching him how to live. The rest would be up to him.

“Before I let you go, I have a little tradition with all my patients,” Sondra said. “There’s always one thing that worries me more than anything else when it comes to my patients’ future sobriety. My worries differ, and I give each of you the opportunity to decide whether or not you want to hear it.”

“What do most people do?”

“Most choose to hear it, and they tend to be the ones who don’t end up back here again.”