Chapter 7 #2
“Your counselor is right. And I’m proud of the steps you’re taking to do just that.” Gilbert reached over and patted my shoulder like he did earlier. I’d begun to wonder if he’d let me adopt him as my grandfather after my probation was up. “What did you think of the group?”
“It’s an AA meeting, what do you think?” I stared out the window. “Those church ladies were nice, but I didn’t care for them staying for the meeting.”
“This is an open meeting group. They can observe but not participate.”
My nose scrunched up. “Why would they want to?”
“Maybe to understand addiction and recovery better. Those who educate themselves tend to have more empathy.” He changed lanes, allowing a speeding truck to get around us. “Give this one a chance, please. You should even consider attending a service on Sunday.”
“Yeah. Like that wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Oh look. It’s that young alcoholic from the AA meeting.”
“It wouldn’t be like that and you know it. You’re so worried about someone judging you that you’ve become the judge. Already condemning that entire church group before giving them a chance.”
Properly scolded, my face heated. “Now I feel like a jerk.”
“As you should.” A prickly silence filled the car for a few miles before Gilbert spoke in a softer tone, low and serious. “Just give it some time. I promise you’ll get more comfortable. It took me a while to settle in with the support group I attend, so don’t get discouraged.”
“Your group?” I angled in my seat and lightly swatted his arm. “Why haven’t you taken me to that one? You ashamed of me, Gilly?”
Gilbert turned on his blinker and took a left onto Ben Sawyer Boulevard. “It’s a little different than traditional AA meetings.”
“I like it already.”
Gilbert rolled his eyes and shook his head. “No, you won’t. It’s still folks supporting one another in our sobriety. Besides, it’s private, invitation only.”
“I bet you could get me in.”
“How about this. If you commit to the group meeting at the church, I’ll see about getting you an invite to mine.”
“Fine. I really don’t have a choice anyway.”
Gilbert downshifted as we began crossing the bridge. “True. But you have a choice on how you handle it. Stop looking at all this as punishment.”
“How else is there to look at it?”
“Grow up, Junie.”
I gawked at him. “Wow. You’re just all kinds of nice tonight.”
He cut me a quick glare, then refocused on the road. “You know I’m a straight shooter, so don’t get all bent out of shape.”
“That you are.”
“What about a job? You made any progress?”
“I’m still working on it,” I muttered, keeping my eyes averted.
“Well, keep me updated, so I can add it to my report.”
After Gilbert dropped me off, I went inside and settled at the kitchen island with my laptop.
I was part owner of a million-dollar property yet totally broke.
I had to fix that—fast—so I started searching for a job.
The requirements for anything appealing knocked me out of the running.
College degree? Nope. Experience? Not much.
Background check? Best not to go there . . .
Every option dried up faster than a tidal pool at low tide, so I gave up on that and decided to touch base with my brother.
I moved to the couch, took a deep breath, and hit the call button.
“Hey.” Cy answered on the second ring but sounded distracted. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just checking in.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I just got home from an AA meeting. Oh, and I took a drug test.” I told him this to see if he was even listening.
“Did you pass it?” His question stung, but I guess I deserved it. At least he was paying attention.
“I’m not calling you from jail, am I?” We both grew quiet and I instantly regretted snapping at him. “Look, I just wanted to call and say hey. Not to bicker. How’s everyone doing?”
“Everyone is fine.” He didn’t elaborate, as if intentionally torturing me with his vagueness. “Have you spoken with Mom and Dad?”
“The time difference makes it hard to call, but we’ve exchanged a few texts.” I propped a pillow in my lap and smoothed my fingers over the soft material. “I’d love to see Fern.” Even though I already knew the answer, I held my breath.
He sighed with a good bit of aggression. “That’s being selfish, Junie.”
“Selfish? She’s my daughter.”
“Yes, but I have custody of her because of your arrest.” Oh, he just loved twisting that knife at every chance.
“But . . .” I looked around the living room, landing on a picture of Olla standing on the front porch. Cy on one side and me on the other with her arms draped around us. “I’m doing everything I’m supposed to in order to get her back. Come on, Cy, give me a second chance.”
“You’ve already been given a second chance and failed. Think about your daughter for once. It wouldn’t be fair to Fern to insert yourself back into her life only to mess things up again. She needs stability.” There was some rustling in the background. “I have to go.”
I started to plead with him but he’d already hung up.
There were eleven years between us but a lifetime of guilt reinforced the barrier.
Clutching the pillow to my chest, I stared up at the shiplap ceiling.
Somehow, I had to secure a third chance, to show my brother I had earned it this time instead of him giving it over begrudgingly as a gift.