Against All Odds Pt. 04

"Time for a meeting, my friend," Mike replied.

I sighed; he was right, and I knew a meeting would help me reach the end of the day. I went back and put my laundry in the dryer. I went back, and Charity had a sandwich made for me. We talked; she just knew how to soften the mood. To keep it real and in the moment. We went to an NA meeting. Mike sat with me and hugged me after I got up and took a white newcomer key ring. There would be no drugs for me that night.

We left, and Mike informed me I was coming to his house. No questions. He knew this first night would be bad. Charity was there, and she had a late dinner prepared. I was starving. After dinner, we talked about everything. Love, hate, addiction, music, poetry, and most of all, what being spiritual meant to her and Mike. I had slept very little over the last four days, so I eventually started nodding in my chair. They showed me to their spare room, and I was asleep in minutes.

I woke up the next day, and the bed was soaking wet. I had all-night bed sweats. More detox was in my future. This much I knew. When I walked into the kitchen, Charity was there. She handed me a black coffee, and I sat in the small kitchen nook. Charity slid in opposite me and sat quietly looking at me until she said, "You look like shit Dave!"

"Well, I feel like shit."

We savoured the coffee and the silence for a little while until she grabbed my hands, making me look up.

"You're in a world of hurt, broken heart and trying to not use."

"Yeah, there's that. I just need to figure out where I went wrong, Charity. I thought Mel and I had something."

"You did, this much I am sure of." She pursed her lips and added, "I think you still have something!"

I actually laughed and spat some coffee out. "You got to be fucking kidding me," I said, still chuckling, but now I could feel tears welling in my eyes. "Look, I don't know what Mike told you, but I walked in on her at the loft and caught her fucking a porn star. Everything I'm not."

Charity grimaced. She knew how men were. She also knew how women were. What was Mel thinking?

"Yeah, and it was obvious she knew him well and had been hooking up for a while."

"Did you get violent this time?" Charity asked.

"No, I was dumbfounded and in shock. But I knew in an instant it was over between us. Melissa has found a new boyfriend her age, and just like I thought, I got trashed in the process. Predictable; in fact, I should have seen it coming; it's just that everything pointed to a deep connection and feeling I had rarely had with a woman. It's fucking confusing." I could feel denial fade to anger. It felt good but loud in my head, with no drugs or booze to dull the pain.

"You do know she's an active addict, right?" said Charity.

"Does that matter?"

"You tell me you've been clean before, even though it was a short time. Addiction is a fucked up thing, and you know addicts don't drive their own bus when it gets out of control." She sat back, looked out the window, and we sat silently for a while. "You know Mike's story. I watched him go down. I held on for as long as possible, but he was a madman. I thought he would burn out with the hours he worked and the never-ending partying. Ultimately, I was shocked how much substance he could do and still be a rock star at work." She paused. Took a sip. "When I walked in on him that night, he was standing on the bed, and three girls were doing lines off his dick Dave. Now, let me describe the girls. Each was a runway model, an expensive call girl or something. Tall, skinny, legs for days, still wearing high heels and hose, perfect tits, pure sex goddesses. I mean, not on my best day could I stand beside them and not look frumpy.

"You're gorgeous, Charity."

"Well, that's not how I felt at that moment," she paused. "one of the girls even said who is this Mike?" He said, "She's my roommate! Hey Heather, want to join in the fun," he said. "The girls all giggled, and then Mike had this faraway look as he saw a slow trickle of tears go down my face. I knew he was gone. It was not the man I fell in love with standing on that bed. I just turned and left."

"Did he follow you?"

"No, I didn't hear from him for three weeks. By then, he was shattered. Jobless, facing jail. We talked. He told me he was getting help. We only met in person once he had thirty days clean. It was then that his shame and remorse were painted all over him. He knew he'd ruined us. Well, you know the rest of the story."

I made every effort to cry at that moment and failed. I was passing from denial to anger, and it was written on my face. Charity said nothing and just sat there with me. Eventually, I took a deep breath and realized the demons were not cackling at me. Where the fuck were they, I thought. "Charity, I love your story, but nothing Mel said to me that night or the day after would make me think she was not leaving me for this Ryan guy." I paused and chuckled. "I mean, beyond the dick cliché, it was just a really messy break-up; sorry you had to find out this way and another broken heart. I've been here before, and time is my friend right now. I am powerless over many things, but I know how that works. I need to get clean again and do the work. Right this minute, I have a lot of hate and anger inside me."

We both talked about nothing for a while and during that time, I decided I would get away from everything for a couple of days. After grabbing some things at the loft, I dropped by the Rocket and spent time with Mike. It was ground we'd covered, and he knew I had recovery tools. I told him I'd booked a cabin at the same resort Mel and I had been to. He laughed and said, "You've always been a romantic and a sucker for punishment, but that's as good a place as any to get quiet with yourself."

Before I left the city, I texted Mel, "Hey, I'm taking off for a couple of days. Be back later in the week. Your key still works, so feel free to drop by and get anything you want."

I waited and got nothing back. Figured. I cried quietly as I drove north. The demons came back laughing at me from the back seat, but they'd disappeared when I turned my head. Little fuckers, I thought, but I knew with each day sober, their power would fade.

Mel Tweaking on a Saturday

I had been ignoring my phone. That fucker Ryan had been texting me non-stop, apologizing for what he'd done and begging me for forgiveness. I don't know why I hadn't blocked him yet. He even sent me a fucking dick pic saying, "Miss me?" Yup, not the brightest card in the deck. How stupid could I have been?

I'd run out of coke yesterday and was tweaking today. Wine was helping, and I now weighed in at 112 pounds, soaking wet. I looked and felt like shit. The one good thing was that I was eating with a vengeance, and my mom was loading me up as fast as I could eat. She was a true Irish meat and potatoes cook, and I teared up wishing it was Dave cooking for me.

I heard the phone ding but never looked until later. When I saw it was from Dave, my heart skipped a beat. Was he going to fight for me? Did he want to talk to me? I ran to my room and started crying when I read his text. I really wanted to get high, but I was becoming defiant, and my Irish girl was kicking up a storm calling me a 'coke whore, loser addict' and any number of nasty things. I winced each time but doubled down on being stubborn.

I sat there, trying to write something back. I typed something. Deleted it. Typed, "I love you!" Deleted that too. By the next day, I had mustered one word. "Ok." My Irish girl just laughed at me. I was slowly realizing, as the fog of drugs faded, that there was no getting him back. Fuck you! I thought. I do not really know who that was directed at.

By some miracle, I made it to Sunday and realized I needed to stop hiding and get back to the city and move my shit out of the loft and go back to Cathy's. None of this felt right, and each time I told myself what I needed to do, the urge to get high was overwhelming and the sadness that was griping intensified. My parents dropped me at the train station, and I was back at the loft by 9PM and was tweaking.

I tried to pack, but when I was in the bedroom bagging clothes, I grabbed one of Dave's dirty T-shirts. I curled up on the bed, hugging it for dear life, and bawled my eyes out. I cried, heaving gasps, and drenched the bed, and at the end, I just fell asleep, exhausted.

When I woke at dawn, my eyes came open, and my sadness returned, but I had made it another day with no coke. Triumphant only until I had finished my first coffee, and I was about to text JJ to see if I could score.

The Irish bitch started in on me, and that got me stubborn until, at around noon, I started crawling the walls of the loft. It was not that hot, but I was sweating. I showered and knew I needed to talk to someone. JJ was out of the question. Cathy would know what to do, but I grabbed a cab up to the Rocket in the end, hoping Mike was there.

I walked in wearing Sunday hang-day clothes and no makeup. My hair was still wet, while the ringlet curls had started to expand. Mike took one look at me as I walked in, and tears began to flood my eyes. I was trying to say something while he softly looked at me. Charity was in the kitchen, took one look at me and then Mike as he came around the counter and just hugged me.

He simply said, "Are you done yet?"

At first, I thought he was asking me if I was done crying, but that ominous thing he said to me so long ago that I couldn't con him crashed into my mind. I just lowered my head, looked at the floor and said in a quiet voice, "Yes."

Charity had already made us coffee, and we sat down at the back. I expected Mike to launch into this lecture, but we just sat there. A few minutes later, Charity put two sandwiches in front of us. I inhaled mine while Mike smiled at me. Two cookies followed, and I ate both.

"How many days, Melissa?"

"I stopped doing blow Friday."

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

Water flooded my eyes again, but I was quiet about it. The pain was all over me, inside me, behind me, and so in front of me; it felt like my feet were encased in two giant rocks. "Yes, it hurts like hell, but it's not just the drugs; it's Dave as well. It's everything."

"Now is not the time to talk about your relationship with Dave. This is about you, Melissa. This is about the choices that are in front of you." He paused, then made me look him in the eyes.

"Surrender is not weakness, Melissa. Sometimes, it's the most courageous thing a human can do. It's ok to ask for help."

Oh, that made the ground move. It made me dizzy. "I need help, Mike, I really do."

Mike smiled, and we talked for hours. Well, he listened to me. I don't know what I told him or what secrets I shared, but I just shared, and periodically, I asked him what I should do. He was annoyingly enigmatic, saying things like, "What are you doing right now?" In the end, it became one theme. To get clean. He steered it back to that a lot. Especially after I would recite all the reasons, I didn't have a problem with drugs. The killer one was last.

"Melissa, are you who you want to be? Do you feel authentic on a spiritual level?"

The Irish girl started cackling, "Here comes the hippie shit now! More cheese, please!" Fuck she was annoying sometimes. As cheesy as it sounded, it resonated with me. It was a profound moment because there was only one honest answer.

"No, I don't feel one-bit real right now."

I stayed with them. Even helped them close the shop. It felt good to be busy. When we left, Charity took Mike aside and talked. She walked away, leaving us there.

"What's going on?" I said.

"You trust me?"

I nodded, and we started walking in opposite directions. Eventually, we got to a church, which made me nervous; I hated religion. There was a group of people outside, cigarettes and vapes being consumed with gusto. Everyone was saying hi to Mike. He seemed to know everyone. Hugs were all around, but everyone stayed respectful of me, just smiling kindly.

We went inside, got a small cup of dreadful coffee and a cookie, and sat in the last row of seats in this church basement. On the way, I passed a table with a pile of pamphlets with NA on them. What I thought was an AA meeting was, in fact, a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Later, I would find out that the last row is called "denial alley," Mike knew it was where I would be comfortable.

"How can you drink this terrible coffee," I asked him. "Your coffee at the Rocket is amazing!"

He smiled and said, "It's many things; I enjoy its contrast, and it reminds me that there are two sides to almost everything. It's also about unity, or it's messy in here sometimes, and it makes me humble, strange enough."

He grabbed my hand, squeezed it, and said, "Just keep an open mind tonight, ok?"

I sat there, nervous and fidgeting, but listened to the collection of people reading things. I didn't hear much of it, as I was deeply suspicious. At one point, they gave out key rings for clean time. When the newcomer one was offered, Mike looked at me but smiled as I stayed glued to my seat. Fear was now flowing through me, and I wanted to leave. After a smoke and vape break, this girl got up and sat in front of everyone. Like the others, she opened with an admission of being an addict.

Then, she told her story, and I was dismantled to my core. She was not much older than I was, and her "bottom" was horrible. It all started as just fun, a party girl, a sugar baby, cool boyfriends, drugs, booze, and living large. She loved those times and openly said everything worked; it was the time of her life. She had zero regrets until it slowly stopped working. Before she woke up, she was homeless, a prostitute, and was getting in trouble with the police. A homeless man told her she was not made for the street life. It would kill her, and she didn't belong here. He told her, "Ya need a meeting, young lady." He actually walked her to this church on a cold winter night. She failed three times trying to get clean, but eventually, she found a bit of serenity. She last picked up a white key tag five years ago today.

So many questions. So much fear. When she finished, Mike left me there while he hugged the speaker and other friends. I was holding back tears as I slowly walked to the table at the front and looked down at the key rings. An older woman was there; she looked at me and said, "You can still take one."

With my hands shaking, I reached out and grabbed a white key tag and clutched it to my breast. She stood up, walked over to me, and asked if she could hug me. During that, she said, "Welcome, Melissa, welcome, keep coming back, ok?"

I turned around, and Mike watched me, quiet as always, with a big smile. I got swept up in everyone welcoming me. Many kept their distance and just smiled. Eventually, we got in a circle, and they said the "serenity prayer." I left thinking I didn't believe in God, but "having the courage to change the things I can" resonated with me for a long time.

We walked back, saying nothing. I didn't know where or what to do, but it all led me to their house. Charity had some food saved to be heated up. I was ravenous. After dinner, I got up to go, and Mike would have nothing of it. "You're staying here tonight." With that, he left the kitchen, leaving Charity and me there.

Charity Is Wise

We moved to the living room. Mike was elsewhere. We had tea. It was soothing. Charity had this magnetism of trust. At first, you felt nervous, like she was interrogating you by saying nothing. This quickly morphed into a sense of comfort and safety. She had an ease with which she asked questions. She knew where to lead me and was never frustrated with my obviously closed-off emotions or half-answers. The meeting was bad enough, but now, I had gone full "turtle" and had everything slammed tight inside. She could sense this.

We talked about addiction. Charity had a deep understanding and also avoided mind-altering substances. She came from an alcoholic family where both her parents lived functionally but semi-damaged their whole lives. Her older sister made it, but her brother was another question. I shared with her about my parents as they sounded like hers. We laughed about being kids in a chaotic home where weekend parties were commonplace. That feeling of not being safe in your own house. Older men looked at you when you were a beautiful teenager. In minutes, it felt like I had a new soul sister. So was the power of Charity. After a laugh about some of the funny things we did growing up, she simply said to me.

"What happened between you and Dave Melissa?"

The blood drained from my face. Tears fought to flow. I looked down. Ashamed.

"He came home early and caught me in bed with another man."

"Do you love this man?" Are you trying to exit your relationship with Dave?"

Quickly and with some anger, "No, I don't love this guy. Right now, I hate him."

"Do you still love Dave?"

Tears won the moment. Sobs came. She hugged me. I got a grip and said, "I love Dave with all my heart." Pausing, thinking and briefly listing all the reasons what I did was fine, but they all failed. "After what I did, Charity, he's done with me."

"What happened, Melissa?"

With this, I broke down and told her everything. Leaving home at sixteen, working hard, getting in shitty relationships, blowing them up, moving from job to job and eventually getting to the city. Meeting Cathy, being a party girl, having the time of my life, being free and fun, and eventually becoming a Sugar Baby. Sharing that I was good at making men feel good while having fun.

"You do know that is sex work? Nothing is wrong with it, but it takes a healthy person to understand its pitfalls. Drugs never help. But I want to know what happened with Dave?"

I told her our story, beaming the whole time, describing our connection, everything we shared, how open Dave tried to be, hinting at our sex life, and giggling like girls, sharing what it feels like having a man love you completely. "It was the time of my life," I proclaimed.

I then told her about being bisexual, the Loft Lesbians; she laughed at that term with a scowl added, and then about dating two men, hinting at Ryan's gift or curse, take your pick.

"Why the other guy, Melissa? Why blow it up it up with Dave?"

"I don't know. Ryan made me feel special. He was a distraction when Dave was away."

"Melissa, do you know the difference between new relationship energy and true enduring love?" She paused. "Let me guess, all of this started about two years into your relationship with Dave, right?"

I didn't need to answer. This hit me like a brick in the face. What a fool I was, and I knew then I needed some help. My determination to quit drugs swelled inside me. Step one, I thought.

"What other rationalizations did you make up to yourself? I'm young? Just for fun? He will never know? Open relationship? Polyamory? You deserve it?"

I blushed, knowing it was all lies now. "Most of that."

"Did you share any of this with Dave?"

"He knew I was bi and played with the girls."

"Did you tell him in detail or make sure he was ok with that? You know, discuss the boundaries?"

"No, I never was honest with him."

"Let me guess, you also convinced yourself he was doing what you were doing?"

"Yes."

"Was he?"

"No."

"Look, Dave hinted at what he walked in on Melissa." Knowing how bad it was made me cringe. She added point blank, "Are you a size queen, Melissa? Nothing wrong with that as some women are, and it's nothing to be ashamed about."

Holy crap, I turned a bright shade of red. I'd thought about this subject while at my parents' house and had emphatically decided.