Samantha and Carolsneaked into the basement of the Episcopal Church and found two seats in the back row. The metal chairs were ice cold. Made sense; an old stone building like this should have a cold basement.
Someone was sharing his story, and Samantha focused on it.
“... this is why it’s so important not to start a relationship when you’re early in recovery. I had so much energy. I felt so good about myself, and I just wanted to get out there and meet people. But it was a disaster. Drinking made me deprive myself of a relationship, and so I was starving for one. But I shouldn’t have done it. It set me back by years.”
“Thank you for sharing,” the leader said. “And he brings up a good point, everyone. We don’t recommend starting any new relationships when you’re in early recovery. If you’re wondering if you’re ready, talk to your sponsor about that. Okay, who’s next?”
As she always did, Samantha looked at the floor to avoid eye contact with anyone. She’d never shared, and she didn’t intend to now. But when the next person started talking, Samantha continued staring at the floor. She was thinking about Brent. Had she gotten this all wrong? Maybe she couldn’t reconcile with him. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. Maybe she already had enough change in her life. It was true that starting up with him again would make her incredibly vulnerable, and if he hurt her again ... would she have the strength to not turn to alcohol?
She didn’t know.
The thought of telling him no, or at least not yet, broke her heart. She wanted to get back together with Brent more than she wanted sobriety. And didn’t the two go hand in hand? Hadn’t he left her because she was a drunk?
She didn’t know the answer to any of these questions, but the joy she’d felt from the balloons to the flute was completely gone, replaced now by a thick, gray confused sorrow.
“Are you all right?” Carol whispered.
Samantha picked her head up and nodded. “Just tired,” she lied.
Carol’s expression made it clear that she knew she was lying, but she didn’t push the issue.
For the first time, Samantha looked at the woman who was now sharing. She couldn’t see her well because she was in the front row. All Samantha could see was part of her profile, but she forced herself to focus on her words.
“... I wonder if it was an angel ...”
Samantha managed to not roll her eyes.
“... I wish I remembered more about her. I can’t picture her clearly. I think she had long hair, and a tan coat, but I couldn’t swear to any of that. I just remember walking, and walking, andwalking. And when I wanted to fall down and just give up, she wouldn’t let me. She pulled me to my feet, and we just kept walking. She must not have had any money because it would have been way easier to just stick me in a cab. Anyway, I just wanted to thank her here because I can’t thank her for real. I’ve been sober since that night, and I think that without her, I think I might have been dead since that night.” She chuckled. “So many people would have just left me wherever I was, slowly bleeding to death. But she cared. She cared about a drunk stranger. So thank you.”
“That’s quite a story,” the leader said. “Thank you for sharing. Anyone else?”
A man raised his hand, and the leader told him to go ahead, but again Samantha’s attention drifted. The woman who had just told that story reminded Samantha of someone, and she didn’t know who. Of course, there was a finite amount of alcoholics within fifty miles of Hartport, and there were only so many meetings, so she saw lots of these people over and over again without really meeting them. But that woman had made it sound like she’d only recently started coming. So then how did Samantha know her? Maybe she’d come into the law firm. Samantha flipped through the mental pictures of all the female clients she could remember. There were so many, though, that she knew she wouldn’t be able to remember them all.
By the time she gave up trying to figure it out, the last speaker had finished sharing, and the leader was dismissing them.
“You’re not all right,” Carol observed.
Samantha stood and folded her chair to put it away, trying to think of something to say to Carol.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder.
She turned to see the woman who had shared the angel story, and Samantha gasped. The woman had a giant gash across the side of her head. Some of her hair had been shaved away, and the wound had been stitched up, but it was obviously a serious injury and a fairly recent one.
“Is it you?” the woman asked, a small tremble in her voice.
Is what me?And then she knew. She took a step back. Here was the answer to her blood mystery, staring right at her.
“Tuesday, September twenty-first,” the woman said.
Samantha didn’t know the exact date without looking at her calendar app. “It was a Tuesday, yeah.”
The woman let out a small cry, flung her arms around Samantha, and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I know we’re supposed to ask before hugs.” She let go of her and stepped back, her face beaming. “Why didn’t you say something when I was sharing?”
“I ... uh ...” She glanced at Carol, deeply embarrassed. “This is my sponsor, Carol. My name is Samantha.”
“Hi. It’s so, so good to meet you, I mean, we’ve met before, but you know what I mean.” She put her hand on her chest. “I’m Renae. Thank you for saving my life.” She stood there smiling foolishly, and Samantha didn’t know what to say or do.
“You’re welcome.”