Chapter 14
What the hell, Bette? Just tell her your life is pathetic.
Bette had no idea why all of that blunt, ugly truth came tumbling out of her mouth. She hadn't asked for Bette's life story. It had been a simple question that should have just been answered simply. Instead, she blabbed her embarrassing past.
"That's, well, that's shitty."
The straight look on Kerrie's face was not what she was expecting. It wasn't pity or judgment. Kerrie was right. It was shitty. Bette found herself laughing, the sound of amusement fluttering out of her chest and into the small space. "Actually, yes, yes, it is shitty."
Kerrie motioned around the room, shooting her a cheesy grin. "And now you get to sweat it out in the basement of a rehab with me."
"Yeah, I do," she said thoughtfully, and for the first time, she realized she didn't mind being at Turtle Grove. It was a scary thought. She hadn't expected that to happen. Not wanting to explore that road anymore, she decided to change topics before her mind tried to decipher on a deeper level. She pointed to Kerrie's laptop. "Do you want help getting that old thing running?"
"Please. I'm awful with this stuff."
Around 1:25, the men started trickling back into the basement for Leadership. Bette was thankful they could shut the door and be separated from the class. It was much quieter that way, even with the box fans running.
"Kerrie? "
"Yes," she answered, not looking up. Her hulking frame dwarfed the laptop, making it look like a giant trying to use a tiny typewriter.
A soft smile graced Bette's face. "What is Leadership? I've heard people mention it, and I know it's on the schedule, but I have no idea what it is."
"Oh, I'm sorry; someone should have explained the whole schedule to you. After breakfast, the day starts with Reflection. That's where the guys will say how they're feeling and what they're grateful for and read a passage from a sobriety book. There are a few they can choose from. Then there's morning group, which I think you've attended some up on Tindle Street, right?"
Bette nodded. She had enjoyed sitting in with Clinton.
"Then there's a video where they watch from an educational series made in the 80s, and the quality certainly shows that. Then we will break for lunch, as you know. After lunch is Leadership, where someone comes in for an hour to speak to the guys. It can be another counselor or someone from outside the rehab who has had experience with addiction, whether it's something they've treated or are addicts themselves. We all talk on different topics. My topic is living long-term in sobriety. Addiction doesn't suddenly stop when you get a few years under your belt. Then they have chores, dinner, and evening group. It's lights out at 11:00 during the week and 1:00 am on Friday and Saturday. On Saturday, each counselor can send one green tag to an outside NA or AA meeting with the peers. It gives the guys graduating a chance to go to a meeting before they leave. They return to a protected environment in case it was overwhelming. On Sunday, yellow and green tags have the option to go off-campus to church as long as the counselor thinks they can handle it."
Bette blinked a few times, taking in all the information, and then nodded. "That makes sense. Thank you for explaining it. I didn't realize just how much there was to the schedule."
"Yeah, it doesn't look like a lot on paper, but when you start looking deeper; it shows how much actually goes into the program. Not to mention the weekly meetings with each client and therapeutic homework assignments. They really do a lot of self-work."
Once again, Bette was learning just how deep rehabilitation went.
She shifted her attention to Wilson's notes. At the end of each group, the clients would fill out a piece of paper detailing what they learned and how they believed it would help them in recovery. Each note had to be manually entered into the computer in the client's own words. It took time, and the program they used was older than dirt. The old-school gray and blue boxy windows with checkboxes and drop-down menus reminded Bette of her first computer.
They typed away for a little while, each lost in their own work. The two box fans whooshing drowned out anything being said during Leadership in the next room.
Bette's phone interrupted the comfortable silence, buzzing angrily against the tabletop. Dread filled her when she saw 'Mother' light up the screen. She clicked ignore and resumed typing, but her mother was never one to be ignored. The buzzing started again. Not wanting to interrupt Leadership by ducking out, she swiveled to put her back towards Kerrie and answered the phone in a quiet voice. "Hello?"
The screeching at the other end echoed loudly in the quiet room. "I thought I told you not to touch the thermostat!"
"Mother, not now; I'm work—"
"I told you, Beatrice!" yelled Clara.
Bette rolled her eyes. "You can stop yelling at me."
"I wish I could. I wish you didn't force me to this point. You always push every button I have with your blatant disrespect."
And now the gaslighting. "I'm hanging up now, Mother. We'll continue this when I get home."
Clara stuttered with frustration twice before she managed to end the call. Her cheeks were warm, and she ducked her head when she turned around to her computer. She avoided looking over the screen at her coworker, beyond embarrassed. Being scolded like a child was bad enough, but to have it done in front of a coworker was even worse.
Tension, thick and heavy, followed. She could see Kerrie shift stiffly out of the corner of her eye. After what felt like an eternity but was probably only minutes, Bette sighed. "That was my mom."
Kerrie gave her a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, I figured that out when you said 'mother.' She sounded pissed."
Bette cupped her chin and leaned on her elbow, smiling sadly. "Yeah, that's my mom. I'm staying with her for now, and it's going about as well as I expected it to."
A thoughtful look graced Kerrie's round, handsome face. "Have you not been able to find a place?"
Bette shook her head. "I just started working, so it would be tight for me to make the first month's rent and a deposit right now. I'm stuck for a little while longer."
"That makes sense," Kerrie observed with a slow nod .
Bette felt Kerrie wanted to say more, but nothing else followed, and with some of the tension lifted, she let it be.
Late into the afternoon, only about 30 minutes from clocking out, Luke showed up in the basement, calling out to them. Whatever it was, Bette hoped it didn't hold them over. She wanted nothing more than to take a shower and change into clothing that wasn't full of sweat. Hours seemed so much longer when uncomfortably warm. She had ditched her blazer before they even came into the basement, and by the end of Leadership, her hair had gone up in a ponytail. If she stayed any longer, she would be rolling her slacks up, and she really didn't want it to come to that. She was completely over it.
"In here," Kerrie called out. She, too, looked at the end of her patience. Once the men had left for the day, she had shed her button-down dress shirt and was now in a plain undershirt that was tucked into her dress slacks, the tight undershirt giving Bette a better look at Kerrie's thick belly that hung over the waistband of her pants. She was surprised to find herself so attracted to Kerrie. For so long she only had eyes for Shelly, and Shelly had always been fit. Rarely did Bette notice other women. Before Shelly, she had fought her attraction to women. The South didn't exactly embrace a same-sex lifestyle, especially over twenty years ago, and her family was fully against it. Her mother stopped speaking to her for five years before she got wind of Zoe's birth, and then she began to melt. That felt like forever ago.
Now, Bette was finally feeling human again, and feelings she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time were coming back. Like appreciating Kerrie's thick arms in her white undershirt and not even the least bit turned off by the small wet spot on her lower back from pooled sweat. It was thrilling, really, the little moments of butterflies or the twist of her gut. It didn't hurt to look. Nor did it hurt to briefly imagine what it felt like to have Kerrie press her against a wall.
Luke walked into the cramped space, followed by a young, skinny white man with several facial tattoos, his mouth set in a firm line and his eyes darting around. Clad in an orange jumpsuit and only a pair of white socks, he looked like he had just stepped out of jail. It took a moment for Bette to realize he had.
"For fuck's sake, you've got to be kidding me," fumed Kerrie, standing up abruptly, causing both Bette and the man to jump.
Luke just nodded gravely as if he already knew what was going on. "Yep."
Sighing, Kerrie shook her head and started out of the room. "Come on, son, let's get you looking like a person and not just a number. "
Frowning, Bette decided to follow, wondering what was going on. Luke grinned at her as she raised an eyebrow at him.
The back part of the basement had two doors that Bette hadn't noticed before. It hadn't occurred to her that the basement was the same size as the upper floor and would be more than just the group space and storage room.
Kerrie opened one of the doors and then turned back to them. She directed her attention to the young man. "I'm really sorry they didn't give you something to change into before you left jail. It's not right to make someone walk around like that. We've got stuff in here. You're more than welcome to get what you need. That tote in the back has new packs of underwear and socks a church donated last month. I'm guessing you need a toiletry kit?"
"Yes, ma'am," he answered, his southern drawl thick as a bloated tick.
"Alright, Luke, you help him, and I'll run upstairs to get a kit and a trash bag to put the stuff in. What's your name?"
"David."
"Well, David, I'm Ms. Kerrie. This is Ms. Bette. Welcome to The Church."
Curiosity drew Bette into the new room. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes widened. "What is this?"
Stooped over a tote, Luke flashed her a smile. "This is the closet. We get donations of clothes and stuff. We have a lot of guys in need, so Kerrie started this. Guys can pick a few outfits, shoes, underwear, belts, you know, stuff like that."
The room was overflowing like a stuffed laundry basket. A handmade shelf ran the length of three walls, with a bar to hang clothing on underneath. Most of everything was either tossed in totes or stuffed on the shelves above. Half of the items hanging on the bar were halfway on mismatched hangers. Mounds of men's clothing and shoes were haphazardly tossed into the once-small office. The messiness began picking at Bette's nerves. It needed organizing badly.
"I mean, this is great, but why is it so messy?" asked Bette.
Standing up, clothing around his ankles, Luke shrugged. "There never seems to be enough time. Plus, I don't know if you've noticed, but this place doesn't exactly have a woman's touch."
"Are you saying I'm not a lady?" teased Kerrie from behind Bette. She looked over her shoulder to find the counselor filling the doorway.
"No offense, Ms. K, but you're not exactly what comes to mind when I think of a lady. "
"Shit, same," grinned Kerrie. She held out a black trash bag with a small bulge in the bottom. "The toiletry bag is in here, and there is a baggy of powdered washing detergent. If you need more, just pop in and ask. We have plenty. Luke can show you where the washers are."
The intimidating young man that had first set Bette on alert softened before her eyes. She quickly learned that first impressions at Turtle Grove didn't always stay true. It was as if everyone had a mask they hid behind. He nodded curtly, trying to repress a small, gap-toothed smile. He appeared to be genuinely thankful. "Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that."
***
Kerrie locked The Church's door behind them. The day was finally over, but Bette didn't go to her car immediately. Instead, she waited for Kerrie to finish, then looked up at her in admiration. Kerrie raised her eyebrow in question.
"You humanize them," Bette said simply.
"Huh?"
"The clients. You make them people again. You care about them on a level a lot of people would write them off on. A guy came in dehumanized in jail garb, and you were upset for him. You clothed him, gave him the basics that make us feel human, and at no point did you make him feel shameful for it."
Kerrie's cheeks reddened as she looked off in the distance at Sparrow. "I was in his place once. I remember how ashamed I was that I didn't even have deodorant. That I smelled and didn't care until I sobered up enough to care. These men are people just like the rest of us. They just need a little compassion. Whether they stay clean or go back to using, at least while they're here, they can catch a break, breathe, and maybe get a little dignity back."
Warmth filled Bette's chest as she beamed up at the taller woman. "I think that's beautiful."
The redness deepened, and Kerrie flashed a shy smile. Bette was amused by the large woman turning into a blushing softy with just a few words. Kerrie took a deep breath and nodded towards their cars. "Are you doing anything after this?"
Bette's breath hitched in her chest. Was she going to ask her out? "Uh, no, not really."
"I know this may be a little sudden, but I have an apartment in my basement that I rent out. I can work with you on the deposit. It's not fancy, but it would get you out of your mom's, and I can have a tenant, I know. If you want, you can follow me home and take a look at it."
The wind in Bette's sails halted. Had I really wanted to go on a date? But then Kerrie's words registered, and her disappointment dulled. "Actually, yes, yes, I would love to take a look at it."