Chapter 4 #2
Mallory and her fiancé, Dr. Quinn James, were already there. Mason fixed himself a coffee and went to sit with them. They’d become good friends over the last year, and he looked forward to seeing them every morning.
“How’s the arm?” Mallory asked.
“Hurts like hell.”
“It will for a few weeks,” Quinn said.
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Are you taking time out of work?” Mallory asked.
“Hell no. That’s not an option this time of year. And besides, my arm hurts. Otherwise, I’m fine.”
Mallory smiled at his testy response. “You can’t go out on calls with your arm in a sling.”
“I can still supervise and deal with the never-ending paperwork and all the other crap that goes on every day.”
“True, and Lord knows the world might end if you’re not there to supervise,” she said, laughing.
He gave her a pointed look. “You know full well what I deal with.” The two of them had had many conversations about working with younger officers and the generational differences in their work ethics.
“I do, and I understand. But if you were to take a few days off, I think they’d survive.”
“I don’t want to risk it and then have to spend the rest of the summer cleaning up whatever mess they make of things.”
Before Mallory could reply, Nina, the facilitator, came rushing in, a few minutes late as always this time of year.
She ran the Summer House Hotel, so this was her busy season, too.
She began the meeting with the Serenity Prayer before asking everyone to introduce themselves.
As usual in-season, they had a few visitors among them today.
They didn’t bother with introductions during the off-season when it was just the regulars.
When Nina asked if anyone wanted to share, Tori, one of the visitors, raised her hand.
Upon closer inspection, Mason noticed Tori had been crying. He put her in her midthirties maybe. She had dark hair and eyes.
“I’m here with my family on vacation,” Tori said haltingly.
“I’d been sober about four months, and last night.
” She shook her head and wiped away tears.
“I threw away all that hard work for six margaritas that led to yet another fight with my husband. He says he’s had enough this time.
This is really it. He’s taking my kids and leaving me. ”
Mason felt for her. Giving up alcohol was the most difficult thing he’d ever done, with more stops and starts than he could count before he finally found a path to lasting sobriety.
Not that he could say exactly what had done the trick, but something had, and he kept up a rigid routine that revolved around maintenance.
He rarely spoke up in the meetings, preferring to listen and absorb the wisdom of others, but he felt like he had something to add to Tori’s situation that might help.
“I think it’s really important to forgive yourself for the slipup,” Mason said. “You’re here, which means you own what happened, and you’re taking the steps necessary to get back on track. If you didn’t care about staying sober, you wouldn’t be here.”
Tori broke down into sobs that had Mallory shifting over one seat to put her arm around the woman.
“I can’t lose my kids.”
Over the next hour, the group pulled together to support Tori. Nina offered to go with her to speak to her husband, to help arrange for rehab or anything else the woman might need.
As the meeting broke up, Mason felt drained and yet also uplifted by the way the group had supported Tori during her crisis. AA had saved his life and that of so many others, and to see its powerful impact at work never failed to overwhelm him.
“I don’t know about you guys,” Mallory said, “but I need food and coffee after that.”
“I’m with you, love,” Quinn said.
“Me, too, if you don’t mind a third wheel,” Mason said.
“Oh, stop,” Mallory said. “You’re never a third wheel with us.”
They walked to Rebecca’s diner in downtown, which was busy as always in the summer, and took the last remaining booth.
Rebecca delivered three mugs to the table that she filled with coffee. “Be right back to take your order.”
“You gotta love the summer around here,” Quinn said, taking in the chaos in the island’s number-one breakfast spot.
“Do I?” Mason asked, inflicting his tone with sarcasm.
“Yes, you do,” Mallory said. “It’s the price you pay for having it easy the rest of the year.”
“If you say so.” Mason stirred cream into his coffee with his right hand and then gave his phone a quick look to make sure nothing was going on—yet. He had no doubt there’d be plenty going on once the revelers woke up, shook off the night before and got started on another big day of partying.
So went the cycle, seven days a week for three months. Mason took advantage of the quiet mornings to attend a meeting, spend some time with friends and ease into a workday that would get progressively more insane as the day went on.
“Pretty intense meeting today,” Mallory said, sipping from her mug.
Quinn nodded and stretched his arm out on the back of the booth. “Been a while since we had someone in full-blown crisis.”
“Thank goodness for Nina,” Mason said. “She always knows what to do.”
“You were good in there,” Mallory said to Mason. “Hearing that other people had multiple false starts on the way to sobriety is helpful. It’s good for her to know it rarely sticks the first time.”
“True. It didn’t for me.” When Mason thought about the last few years before he finally got sober, he was always filled with shame over the way he’d behaved.
The three years prior to finally giving up drinking hadn’t been pretty.
“I nearly lost my job and my firefighting career before I got a clue.”
“Took a few times for me, too,” Quinn said.