“So you met a woman,” she said over her shoulder as she made the short walk through the shop, past the private tattooing rooms and into my little office in the back. She slid into one of my spare chairs and stared expectantly, waiting for me to elaborate.
“I did, yeah.” I flopped down into my desk chair, the cushion whooshing as my butt sank down, my movements creating a slight breeze that ruffled the papers scattered across my desk. “My knitting teacher. And I like her a lot, but George made a really good point.”
Edith arched a brown-penciled brow. “And that was?”
I leaned back and crossed my arms. “That my dating history was pretty toxic while I was drinking, and I’ve spent the last three years just kind of avoiding all of that. He was surprised that I was suddenly taking a woman to my favorite restaurant and calling him to ask what he thought about her.”
It sounded kind of dumb, I suddenly realized. Who stresses out about dating at age thirty-two? Go on a date, go on more if you like the person. But I was just a baby in the recovery process, as Edith sometimes reminded me, and for this huge step? Her guidance mattered.
Edith canted her head and nailed me with a curious stare. “You said you met her at knitting class. What’s her name?”
“Sam,” I replied. “Samantha Stanfield.”
Edith’s brows shot halfway up her forehead. “Small world. I know her—she teaches a crochet class that I go to every so often. Eastlake Senior Center?”
I nodded. “That’s the one. But we ran into each other at the craft store the other night. I didn’t know I was in her knitting class until this morning.” I stopped for a second as something dawned on me. “You’re not going to tell her that I’m—you know, a—"
“An alcoholic? No.” Edith shook her head emphatically, her iron-gray bob swishing with the movements. “That defeats the anonymous bit, doesn’t it?”
Not that I thought Edith would betray my confidence, but it was a relief nonetheless to hear her confirm that my secrets—the shame I still had to try so hard to shake—were still safe with her. “Thanks, Edith. It means a lot.”
She waved a hand. “I’d be a shitty friend if I did air your private business all over town. But for the record, if you’re really interested in her, I think you should tell her. Soon.”
“That’s the thing.” I rose from my desk chair and started roaming around the office, straightening papers and framed paintings on the wall. I had to get up and move, or I might have jumped out of my skin. “I just never know when to bring it up. It seems like the timing is always bad. They’re either weirded out that I told them so soon, or mad that I didn’t tell them right away. Dating like this? It’s…it’s hard, Edith.” I reached out and rotated a hand-painted action figure on a shelf about a quarter-turn to the left. “And I haven’t actually done much of it since I quit drinking. Hardly any, actually. And I really like this woman and I don’t want to mess things up.”
Edith’s hard-as-nails stare softened, tempered by something else. Understanding. Kindness.
This was why I loved having her as a sponsor. Tough when I needed to hear it, but the toughness always overlaid kindness and genuine concern for my well-being. She had a heart of pure fucking gold under that crusty exterior.
Crusty might have been an understatement. She could be mean as a snake when she wanted to be, but I knew she was mostly just bark with very little bite.
“I like her too, kiddo,” Edith answered, her raspy voice somewhat softer. “And give her a little credit, would you? If she doesn’t blink when a blazing hot tattoo artist shows up in her old fart knitting class, then maybe she’s a pretty good egg, you know?”
“Maybe.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead with my fingers. “I need to think about this.”
“I agree.” Edith reached over and grabbed one of my black leather-bound portfolios and started leafing through, gazing thoughtfully at the pictures of tattoos I’d done over the years. “Give yourself a little bit of time.” She looked up at me with a wry smile. “Unless you’re worried that an eighty-year-old man will steal her for himself. But for the record—and I’m not a therapist, so maybe I’m completely wrong—you seem about as ready as you’ll ever be to me. Date her, have some fun, see what develops.”
I had stopped pacing, opting instead to lean against the desk right in front of her. She reached out and gently laid a soft hand on my arm. I laid my free hand over hers, enjoying the affectionate warmth of her touch, the reassurance she offered, her clear faith in my ability to make healthy choices.
“Thanks, Edith,” I said thickly, suddenly grateful—so very grateful—to have this furious little woman to look out for me, to give me advice every bit as good as my mother’s. Better in this circumstance, really, since she’d fought and conquered a lot of the same demons.
“Did I ever tell you how I met my second husband?” she suddenly asked.
I shook my head. “No, you haven’t.”
Edith took a deep breath. “After I got sober, I met the most wonderful guy. A plumber—I’d called for him to come out for some emergency pipe break in my house, and then he stayed for another hour after, and we just talked for hours. I was less than a year into my recovery back then, freshly divorced and heartbroken after booze ruined my marriage, and then this guy, this wrench-wielding nobody, came bursting in my door. And even though I would have said I wasn’t ready at the time, he came again the next day with a bouquet of flowers. And the day after that, and the day after that, until one day, I sat him down and told him that I had a drinking problem. That I still felt damaged, and that I understood if he didn’t want to be with a lonely and broken person like me.”
I stared hard at Edith. “What did he do after that?” I asked softly.
Edith sat back in her chair and smiled at me, radiant as the sun, and the brightness of her smile temporarily burned away all the gruffness that she wore like a fashion accessory. “He kissed me and told me that I was very brave, and he was glad to know me. And after that—” she trailed off.
“After that?” I prompted gently.
The smile returned, softer this time, “Well, after that, we lived happily ever after.”