Chapter 22

I sat in the car,staring through the front window with a ball of worry in my gut. The building was quite simple. It looked like an abandoned YMCA that someone converted into a city activity center. It was well kept with nice flowers all around the entryway. We were still in the city, so of course there was concrete everywhere, but it was clean, and the brick along the walls created a beautiful touch.

Even so, I didn’t want to go inside. I knew that the minute I stepped through those doors, I would have to let my guard down. My therapist had told me as much before I left the rehab center.

“You have to be willing to try, Gerald.“ she had said during one of our last sessions. “Group therapy is a wonderful thing. It can be the continuation of what you’ve learned here. You can find other people just like you, people who struggle with various forms of addiction and are trying to assimilate into the lives they left. “

I had no doubt that what she said was true. And in all honesty, I wanted to experience the benefits of what therapy could give me. I missed having others to share with who could relate to my mistakes. It was a strange thought, considering I wasn’t so keen on therapy at first. But it grew on me. I couldn’t deny the peace I found after each session. Maybe not initially. It took time to find my way.

Wes squeezed my hand. “I’m here with you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

I gave him a small smile. “I know.”

True to his word, he agreed to come with me to this first group session. We had put the date on the calendar weeks ago. When I got the reminder yesterday, I wanted to delete it and pretend it never happened.

I accepted that the first time would be awkward. And maybe the second time too. For all I knew, I might never adjust to this particular group. But I had to try. And trying meant that I had to climb out of the car and actually go inside.

I opened the door quickly, moving fast so I wouldn’t lose my nerve. Wes flew out of the other side of the car and rushed around to me. He reconnected our hands, placing our fingers together in a way that told me he had my back.

Through the doors of the center, we found a brightly lit space covered in cork boards. There were notices everywhere, along with instructions of what session was where. I even saw a map of the building.

I didn’t need any of it, of course. The website we visited had very clear instructions. They didn’t want anyone to get lost or feel as if they were bogged down before coming to the meeting.

I was thankful for their thoughtfulness. I guess I should’ve known, considering their entire premise was built on the idea of making SMART goals. These were the type of people that had to-do lists and believed in the data of recovery versus the spiritual journey. It was one of the biggest reasons I chose them. It was harder to find a secular therapy group, though I had.

While I held no hostility towards any religious organizations, I knew that I would never be able to complete a program that was founded within one. AA had one particular step where you focused on a spiritual connection. And sure, I could have found any other type of higher being to find peace with to continue on, but it didn’t feel right. I knew myself well enough to know that I could just fake my way through those twelve steps. With an outline so clearly given to me, one that was cookie cutter, it wouldn’t be personal enough to stick to.

With the SMART goal group, I would have to formulate my own plan of attack. Every decision would be based off me and what fit me best. I would have to face the darkest parts of me and work to turn them bright. The pain that I knew all too well wouldn’t be able to hide behind a script.

Since I had given Wes the information on where to go, he took the lead on navigating us through the building. My head was on the swivel as we passed each door or open space. There was everything from mommy and me sessions going on, to a birthday party for what appeared to be an elderly man based on the age range of people surrounding him.

It was fascinating. I felt a sense of community without even having stepped into the meeting. There was just something in the air here. I hoped that the feeling remained once we were where we needed to be.

Once Wes reached the stairs in the back, he led me up to the second floor. We went down the hallway back towards the front of the building, then turned into one of the only rooms that had the door open and a light on. It felt almost like a beacon the way it brightened the otherwise muted hallway.

Inside the space, we found a room with chairs in a circular position. A few people were already seated, but even more were lined up at a table covered in snacks and drinks. I could smell the sugar from across the room, and my stomach rumbled.

Wes looked down at me, a frown on his handsome face. “I knew I should’ve fed you.”

“I was too nervous to eat. It would’ve all come back up.” I shook my head, as if the move would dispel my nerves.

A short, lean man approached us. He wore a vintage graphic tee, ripped up dark wash jeans, and a pair of platform shoes. His hair, which was black as night, stood up in all directions. He had a piercing in one ear and a sparkle in his eye.

“You’re new here.” It was said as a statement and not a question. “I’m Gage. This is my group. Have you ever been to one of these meetings?”

I shook my head as Wes gave me a reassuring squeeze. “I haven’t.”

Gage grinned. “Ah, I see. How recently?”

He didn’t need to specify what he meant.

“A couple of months ago. I’ve honestly lost track of time. Adjusting to a new life is…”

“Difficult,” he finished. “Strange. Wondrous. Frustrating. I’m sure you’ve felt a range of emotions since stepping back into society. That’s normal. I’m glad you found us. We’re happy to have you. This group is really informal. If my clothes and looks weren’t a giveaway, I’ll tell you outright that I”m pretty chill. I want you to want to share, therefore I don’t make anyone participate. We do ask that everything discussed here stays within the group so that we can create a safe space. There’s food that”s donated by my buddy Benji over at Whipped.”

“You know Benji?” Wes interrupted.

Gage turned to look at the man beside me. “I do know him. I suspect you and I know him for the same reason.”

Wes gave him an assessing look. “That’s quite possible. If so, then you would also know Patrick and Tucker.”

“And Matteo and Miguel and all the others. Yes, I know them. You are?”

“Weston, but please call me Wes. This is Gerald.”

Something akin to recognition lit his eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was because of Wes’s name or mine. Not that it mattered much. The whole point of this group session was to make myself known. To work through my issues and to find others like me who could lend advice.

“I always tell people that it’s a small world. Even when it happens that I meet someone who knows someone I know, it’s always jarring. Back to the original introduction — you’re welcome to have a seat anywhere you like. Again, we do not force anyone to speak. Let’s keep everything safe and have all the sweets you want, because Benji always sends too much. I would love to chat with you as well if you’re willing to come back. I understand if it’s too much. Here’s my card. Feel free to get in touch whenever.”

He handed over a small business card with blocky letters on it.

Gage Martin

Addiction Recovery Specialist.

It had a phone number, his email and a caricature of his face. I almost laughed at the image because it seemed so out of place. Of course, I knew better than to judge a book by its cover. Gage clearly knew what he was doing. I already felt more at ease than I had when I walked in the door.

We took two of the empty chairs that were left. Wes moved to get me something to eat. I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“No, let me,” I said.

He shook his head. “This is already a lot for you to handle. Let me take care of you now. We can go right back to it once we’re done here. Focus your attention on what’s to come. Deal?”

I swallowed the lump that had formed at his words. I could hear the concern laced within.

“Sure. That might work.”

His smile was a reward better than any shot of whiskey I’d ever consumed.

As he left, a voice on my right chuckled. I turned to find an older woman beside me. She wore a colorful long dress with flats to match and she had a scarf tied around loosely curled white hair. Her makeup was less bright than the outfit, though not by much.

“You got yourself a sexy big man, huh? Consider yourself lucky. Lock him down and keep him. I missed my chance with Georgie and never got another as good as him.”

I stared at her for a second longer before nodding and turning back to watch Wes. He stood at the table laughing along to something a man in a suit was telling him. I couldn’t hear from where I was, which frustrated me to no end.

There might have been some added tension considering how hungry I was. I hadn’t lied when I said I was too nervous to eat though. It was a delicate balance, these nerves of mine.

It only took Wes another minute or so to make excuses, grab the food, and head back to me. He sat down right as Gage approached the single red chair in the mix.

“We’re about ready to start. If everyone could please find their seat,” he shouted.

The stragglers made their way to fill in the gaps around the circle. Once they were in place, the meeting began. Somehow, it turned out to be the best two hours of my day. And that was saying something given I counted my time with Wes in there.

Gage kept everyone in line with a mix of gentle affection and snappy sarcasm. He regaled stories of how he wound up leading the group, then offered others to share their tales. Person after person spoke about their journey. I felt like they were all telling my story too, given how similar some of them were. It was uncanny, really.

I opted not to share since it was my first time. No one called me out about it or judged me for simply listening. When we reached the action steps part of the meeting, Gage was thorough and clear about what needed to be done. He gave us worksheets with instructions on how we could reach our SMART goals, along with a reminder that failing once didn’t mean failing forever.

“We all fall down at some point in our lives. And then we get back up. We don’t just stay on the sidewalk as life goes on, nor do we look up at the ceiling and consider it to be the end. We fall down. We get up. And we try to do better. That’s all I ask of you.”

By the end, I knew this group was the one for me. I’d found the perfect blend of people, an amazing leader, and it was at a time Wes could easily come with me. The universe was finally giving me a break. Maybe, if I was lucky enough, there’d be more on the way.

Oh, look. I was already more positive post meeting than I had been before going in. Who would have thought?