Chapter 11 #2
We weren’t walking down an aisle, as his mother had teased him when we arrived at the farm.
I’d stood in the hall to hear how the two of them interacted, and I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud when he gasped and asked his mother what I’d said about us getting married. Miss Gayle had a great sense of humor.
“I’ve got a meeting tonight. Will you be okay with my mom for an hour?” Jeri asked.
“What kind of meeting?” I asked.
Jeri swallowed. “Remember when I mentioned I was an alcoholic? Yeah, it’s that kind of meeting.”
His cheeks were flushed, which was adorable, but I wanted him to know I supported him. “Yeah. Sure. Of course. You should go.”
“You, uh, you could come if you want. It’s at a church, and nobody will know you. You can sit in the back and—”
“Are you sure you’d want me there?” Sure, I wanted to support him, but I didn’t want to infringe on his privacy.
“Come with me. I’d like to have you there. It’s an open meeting, which means visitors are welcome. I’ll be picking up my eleven-month chip today.” His gorgeous blue eyes were wide and hopeful.
“Well, I can’t go smelling like a horse. I call the shower first,” I joked as I grabbed his cowboy hat and plopped it on my head before I raced toward the house. I glanced back to see him laughing as he shook his head and untied Thunder to put him in the pen with his mother.
“Good evening. My name is Jake, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Jake.”
“I see a few new faces among the familiar, so welcome. We ask that you respect our rules for attending an open meeting.” He pointed to a poster at the front of the basement classroom at the Faith Lutheran Church not far from the farm.
I glanced at the list to see the rules he referenced. No crosstalk. Stick to the time limit. Stay on topic. Share your own story. Confidentiality. All of which made sense.
There were about thirteen people in the room, but I didn’t know who was a regular, who was new to sobriety, and who was a guest like me. And, really, it wasn’t my business.
“We’re here tonight to share our personal stories in hopes of reminding ourselves what brought us to the decision to get sober, so tonight, I’d like us to discuss our rock bottoms. If you’re uncomfortable with sharing that extremely personal moment, no worries.
I’ll share mine first to break the ice.”
Jake then went on to tell his story of drunkenly wandering through a field as he tried to find his way to his parents’ home from a party he’d attended with friends in an unfamiliar area.
He’d stumbled off the bank of a pond, landing in the water in a bellyflop.
He didn’t know how to swim and believed he was going to drown.
He sobered up enough to get his feet under him and found that when he stood, the water was only up to his thighs so he wasn’t going to drown.
It was his wakeup call. He was twenty-two.
When he finished, people clapped, and he smiled. Jake was probably sixty, now. “Who’d like to share next?”
I’d chosen a seat at the back of the room with a couple of other people who nervously fidgeted in their chairs. One guy even slouched in his chair, making me wonder if he was new to AA and still unsure if it was for him.
A large, suntanned hand lifted in the air, and Jake grinned. “Jericho, come on up.”
Jeri stood from his chair a few rows up and stepped into the aisle down the middle of the room. He walked behind the podium and a large grin bloomed on his handsome face.
"Hello. My name’s Jericho, and I’m an alcoholic.” He appeared a little nervous until he shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a ball chain with dog tags and some multicolored chips hanging from it. He placed them on the podium, leaving his right hand on top of them.
“Hello, Jericho,” the crowd responded.
“My rock bottom came after I left the military on a medical discharge. I was in the middle of my own two-year pity party, and every night ended in a drunken haze to numb me so I didn’t have to think about anything.
“One night, my psychiatrist called me to say my mother was looking for me because my father was ill. I hadn’t given my mother my new phone number when I was released from the hospital, and I was needed at home.
I went to my old truck and got in with the intention of driving myself the three hours home, but I was too drunk to figure out how the clutch worked with my prosthesis, and I passed out behind the wheel. ”
Jeri sniffed a little before his eyes met mine. The tears slowly gliding down his flushed cheeks took my breath.
“When I woke the next morning, I was surprised to find myself in the driver’s seat at first. I thought I was too smart to ever contemplate climbing behind the wheel of a vehicle after drinking so much, but obviously, I wasn’t.
Whiskey made me think I was invincible, but I wasn’t, and anyone I would have met on the road wouldn’t have been either.
“I checked my phone to see my shrink was my last call, so I called back to find out what was going on. When he told me my father was sick and my mother needed me, the previous night raced back to me, and I was ashamed for more reasons than I could count, but mostly, because I’d let my mother down.”
The room funneled to just Jer and me staring at each other as he told the story, the tears continuing to fall down his pink cheeks as he spoke.
My own tears came unbidden at the heartbreaking pain in his voice as he told strangers he’d let his mother down.
I wanted to march to the front of the room and hug him to ease his sorrow, but I kept my seat as he continued to speak.
“I called my mother to apologize for staying away so long. I told her I’d been too drunk to drive home the previous night, and she told me if I was a drunk, not to bother coming home. She could only take care of one sick man at a time.
“What I didn’t know was that my father had cancer.
My parents had kept it from me while I was in Walter Reed, learning to walk again with a new foot.
When I told her I was sorry, Mom laughed.
‘Your dad has a terminal disease that can’t be cured, but you go ahead and keep making yourself sick by drinking every night.
I’ll take care of Dad, but I can’t take care of you too.
’ I went to rehab instead of going home like she said.
I got home a week after my father died, and I’ve been going to meetings and walking the twelve steps ever since. ”
Jeri pocketed the chain and wiped his eyes with the tissue Jake offered him.
“Thank you for sharing, Jericho, and congratulations on earning your eleven-month chip.” Jake placed the chip in Jeri’s hand and gave him a back-slapping hug before Jeri walked away from the front and down the aisle to where I was sitting.
He sat next to me and grinned. I gave his thigh a squeeze, and as I started to pull away, Jeri grabbed my hand and held it, arching his eyebrow in question.
I gave him a quick nod and didn’t try to pull away.
He was clutching the green chip in his right hand as we listened to three more people talk about their rock bottoms.
I could honestly say that attending that meeting was one of the most touching experiences of my life.
Some of the stories were heart-wrenching, and the participants’ honesty was palpable in the room.
It was a new thing to witness, especially with me being constantly bombarded with liars and lies in DC.
When the meeting was over, hugs were shared and hands were shaken. Jeri shook a few hands and greeted people, and I only gave them a small smile, remembering the confidentiality rule. None of them asked my name, so I was guessing it went both ways.
Once we walked out of the church, Jeri stopped. Several people were coming out of the church, going their separate ways, and when Jake came out, Jeri led us over to a shaded spot under a large oak tree to wait.
Jake grinned at him before Jeri put his hand on my back. “Jake, this is my friend, Sean. Sean, this is my sponsor, Jake.”
I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
The man eyed us for a moment before Jeri took my hand between both of his because it was obvious Jake didn’t want to shake mine. “He’s in town to meet my mother. He lives in DC, but I thought I’d give him a taste of country life.” Nowhere had the word ‘boyfriend’ been mentioned.
Jake offered a skeptical grin. “That’s nice, I guess. Are you thinking of moving to the area, Sean?” His gaze was challenging.
I didn’t know how the hell to answer the man’s question.
I saw a movie years ago where a couple met at AA. Their respective sponsors told them they shouldn’t have a relationship until each had been sober for at least a year, and when the relationship fell apart, as suspected, they each went back to the bottle.
As I stared at the man giving me a stern glare, I was sure some variation of that scenario was going through Jake’s mind. It was on me to give the man a reason to change his mind about my intentions, though fuck if I knew why.
“I, uh, I work in DC during the week, but I try to keep my weekends open. I can certainly say I’ll do my best to come back,” I said, for lack of a better answer. Jeri squeezed my hand.
Jake nodded and directed his gaze toward Jeri. “I told you that Missy and I are going to see our son in Idaho, but I’ll have my phone if you need to talk for any reason. You know I’m always around, Jericho.”
“Thanks, Jake. I’ll see you when you get back.”
The two of them shook hands again, and Jeri led me to the stolen truck I didn’t think we should be driving around. Surely, someone had reported it by now, right?
Certainly, even backwoods law enforcement read the BOLOs that went out from neighboring law enforcement agencies. I couldn’t imagine why not.
We stopped at the home of the thirty-one flavors and went inside, each getting a scoop of ice cream, then went to a bench outside and sat. I had a question burning in my brain that needed to be answered. “Why’d you introduce me to your sponsor and make it sound like we were in a relationship?”
“Because when he gets back from seeing his son, if this shit hasn’t been resolved, I’m going to bring him in.
He’s the director of the FBI’s Baltimore field office.
Your job in Washington might be more detrimental to you than you want to think, and I trust Jake would look out for you if I’m not able.
I trust Schatz and his guys would take care of you, too, but I’d like someone I know and trust to take a look at it,” Jeri said.
My stomach quivered at his words. “Jeri, I’m not your responsibility.
I appreciate your willingness to help protect me, but I’m not your problem.
I think I need to go back to my home in DC and deal with this shit alone.
Hiding from it isn’t doing anything, and I’ve got two weeks before the Fourth of July holiday break.
They go out for summer recess in August, so time is of the essence.
There are two bills on the docket that I need to push through, and I can’t do it with phone calls. ”
Jeri stared at me in disbelief. “You’re not safe there by yourself, Sean.”
Before I could stop myself, I opened my mouth and the words came out. “Can I ask if you suffer from PTSD?”
It was probably a shit question, but I’d been sleeping next to the man for five nights, and I was more restless than Jeri. Maybe it was because he worked from sunup to sundown and was exhausted when he crawled into bed. I only slept that soundly after a few drinks.
With what he’d been through, I had a hard time imagining Jeri didn’t suffer from some degree of post-traumatic stress. I worried I was developing it myself.
We drove the road to the farm in silence, me refusing to ask the question again. I was embarrassed, knowing I came across as judgmental. What the hell did I know about what soldiers went through after they’d been in battle, especially soldiers who were severely injured in the way Jericho had been?
We stopped by the barn, seeing Jeri’s truck in the driveway with an SUV parked behind it. “Wonder who that is?” He quickly hopped out of the truck, heading toward the house without waiting for me.
I couldn’t get out of the truck fast enough. What fresh hell had been brought to his door this time?