Chapter 13

There were a few familiar faces. There were a few new faces. Of all these faces... none impressed Irene, the damn whore.

Seeing her expression as we walked in, I smirked. She was scowling, seeing all the people already sitting in the circle. All the males in the room were either much older; the younger ones looked like bums. Not to sound full of myself, but I don't think a lot of them expected to see people like us who looked so... put together. That was a good morality boaster before it gets ripped down.

More people shuffled in. Each person added an extra pinch of anxiety. Not because I was scared they would judge me once they knew my story; nope, I would happily refuse to talk about my life. The anxiety was coming from knowing I would have to hear all these people's stories. Hear them talk about their issues and how they deal with it. Just the subject of alcohol was too much of a reminder on it's own.

My heart started picking up. My fingers played with the side of the chair I was sitting in before I thumbed the hem of my peach blouse and skirt. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to think about what happened. I shifted my weight, becoming antsy. One of my nervous ticks is bouncing my knee, but thanks to my high-heels and this hard tile floor, I couldn't do that without making noise.

Irene noticed. Among the chatter around us, she said, "You know, I might have something to help you with your stress."

"I don't want your goddamn lavender stuff," I said.

I should have seen this coming. Irene was basically a hippie. She's not poor, yet she buys cheaper stuff. She was a sucker for crystals, essential oils, meditation... all that jazz. She was always trying to promote it to the people around her.

"Just listen. I have a few helpful incenses and an extra oil-diffuser you can have. It's not just lavender that will help. Rosemary will work wonders for you too and—"

"Every time I see you – doesn't matter how long we go without seeing each other – you don't fail to bring that weird stuff up."

"It's not weird if it works."

"Rotating crystals under your pillow at night doesn't do anything."

"I don't rotate them. It's always an amethyst I sleep with and I change them every—"

"Good afternoon everyone. Glad you all could make it," came a man's voice.

He entered the room and sat down in one of the open chairs adjacent to us. He was the meeting leading I had before. His name was Clive – even though I used to 'forget it' before and called him Chives. Surely, he remembered me and my story. I hoped he wouldn't still be here. I'm sure Irene didn't mind. Clive was in his 40s, not a wreck, and he was good-looking with curly blonde hair and wise blue eyes.

He looked around the circle and continued speaking. "I see a few new faces..." When he saw me, he arched a brow. "And someone returning. Welcome back, Ruth."

Oh god, I already hated it. "So lovely to be back."

Even if they weren't judging me, it felt like it. There were a couple people who probably remembered me and my story. That alone sucked. I could just imagine all the terrible things they were thinking. All the awful things they assumed about me that weren't true. No matter how nice Clive always was, I'm sure he secretly was damning me in his head as well.

The few new people introduced themselves and gave a brief statement of why they were here. After that, we jumped in. The people that have been here for a long time updated the group on how everything has been going for them personally.

One woman was close to tears. "It's just... it's hard, sometimes. I'll go to a cook-out and party and there will be drinks. Always. Either beer or wine, doesn't matter. It's not like I can tell them not to drink around me though."

Some people had similar struggles. A few hit a little too close to home.

"The craving is gone. I don't need it. But after my DUI... I'm just scared of even taking a little sip. That might trigger it."

"Bro, I just... can't stop thinking about how I am the reason I drove my family away, ya know? I just can't man."

"I'm doing better. No drinking for three months, but my family doesn't believe me."

"The worst part is knowing you will always be looked at as the selfish asshole who drank to drink. No matter what, that's the brand. Doesn't matter if sober or for how long because it's not like I can go back and change what happened."

I hated this. I hated how it made me feel. It reminded me of what happened. Did these people open my eyes though? Did I have a new and sudden realization of who I was? That's what frustrated me. The meetings always made me feel stupid. Like I should walk away smarter and better. All these meetings did was bring up fresh pain. They were no different now than before.

And, just like before, I had an issue revealing anything about myself. "Ruth? Would you like to say anything? I'm curious about what motivated you to come back."

"I just needed reminders to keep going. To stay strong," I lied.

"That's great to hear," Clive said. "Would you like to update us on how everything is going? Maybe share what happened if you're comfortable with it. If you aren't ready, that's fine."

"I don't want to talk about it. But things are good. I moved out to the country. Not going crazy from the hill-folk is more of an obstacle than drinking."

"That's great," he said with a smile. "Glad things are looking up."

Oh yeah. They are sure looking up alright. Divorce, custody battle, living in a village, and now suffering through these meetings... so wonderful.

He tried asking a few more questions, but I was vague. He wasn't surprised. I'm not someone who shares my life with strangers. Regardless, it dragged on and on. It felt like the end of the longest most boring class ever by the time we finally left.

During the whole meeting, and even after we got to my car, my anxiety was through the roof. Knowing I would be doing this every Tuesday just added to my stress. Not even Irene's dumb rocks and oils would be able to help.

"Why don't we go to lunch? Be a good distraction. I'm buying," she offered.

"Thanks," I nodded, pulling out a cigarette.

"Hey, do you happen to know if that Clive guy is available?"

***

I missed eating out – especially at top-notch places like Vinnie's. Well, top-notch for lunch. Sitting across from each other at the table against the wall, the dining area was large, but cozy. I eyed the décor. If only my kitchen sported some of the wall-art this place did. God, I couldn't wait until Blake and I tackled sprucing up the interior of the houses. I would like to think I had a good sense of style regarding design. More than anything though, I was sick of outside work.

We each special ordered a sandwich (I wanted different bread, she wanted different everything between the bread). While we ate, I updated her on life in the wilderness. That's basically what it was. She was drawn in. Aside from my growing attraction to Blake, I told her everything about my new life there. From all the drama with Matt, to all the dirty work with Blake. Irene and I were on the same page when I told her about all of the jobs I've been doing. Well, mostly.

"Gravel? You raked gravel? Did you tell him to fuck off?"

"Believe me, I was close. It sucked so bad," I nodded. "Imagine doing that for a whole day."

"I can't imagine you doing anything outside for a whole day."

"It was nothing but dirt, dust, sweat, soreness. Not sure what was worse. That or painting the porches."

"Painting wouldn't be half bad I don't think. It's not raking gravel at least. Hell, I think I would have enjoyed paint staining the porches. Sounds kind of relaxing," she shrugged, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"It wasn't as hard, but it stained my work clothes so I had to throw them away. Stained probably 3 sets of clothes," I shook my head.

"You didn't wear the same ones each day?"

"No, that's disgusting." Irene had the same level of dignity and class as me regarding some things. Others, she did not. This was a good example, that damn hippie. I couldn't help but cringe thinking about wearing the same nasty stuff two days in a row. "I never wear the same grubby work clothes for days on end without washing them. What, would you wear the same clothes for more than one day? Especially when you get covered in dirt?"

"What's the point of putting on new clean clothes if you're going to get sweaty and nasty anyway?" she scoffed.

She had a point, but I still didn't like it. Sipping from my glass, I said, "Look, I have plenty of disposable clothes I can dirty up. An endless supply really. I have so many clothes I don't even want anymore. Oh, which reminds me..." I smiled, knowing she would get a kick out of this. "I sold some of those clothes. On a garage sale."

She stopped chewing her food to just stare at me. Slowly, she finished her bite. "A garage sale?"

Amused at her reaction, I nodded. "Yeah. It was garage sale weekend for the whole dinky town. I needed money so... I sold some clothes. Completely got ripped off too."

"You put all those nice clothes on a garage sale? Yeah I'm sure you didn't get much for them."

"I didn't, but I didn't want them anymore," I said after another bite of my sandwich.

"But a garage sale?" she bared her teeth in a grimace. "God, hell no. Those are disgusting. Second hand stuff."

I scoffed. "Yeah like you don't go to garage sales. You're as cheap as they come."

"Just because I look for a deal and don't spend all my money on clothes like you doesn't mean I would succumb to a garage sale. You don't know where any of their stuff has been."

"Believe me, I'm with you."

"For all you know, that comb that old Miss. Betsy was selling was used as a sex toy. And that hammer Farmer Bob was selling was a murder weapon. Nope."

That was so true. "I doubt that was the case for any of the garage sales on my road, but yeah, you never know." Taking a sip of my raspberry tea, I said, "Well, one good thing came out of it. I sold most of my paintings."

Irene's shoulder's slumped. "What? You sold them?"

"What was I going to do with them? I have plenty I keep for myself and I could always paint more."

"Yeah right. When was the last time you painted?"

"I... I don't know. I do miss it. But I have so much going on now."

"Like what? Watching the grass grow? There is nothing to do out there in hick-ville."

"You don't have to tell me," I chuckled. "But I work now – and it's exhausting work. Plus, on the weekends, Garrett gets all my time."

"Excuses...." she sighed, taking another bite.

It was an excuse too. After what happened, I had no desire for any of my past hobbies. Not when I had so much stress and still do. Painting sounded nice, but... compared to everything else, how was that important? Even if I had time, I hated free time. I hated having free time to think. If I painted, I would only get distracted by my own troubles.

"Well, if you ever want your painting stuff, I took it to dad's. Matt didn't want it there anymore."

Him getting rid of my stuff sure made me feel peachy. "Great."

What made me feel 100 times worse... was the woman sitting diagonal to our table.

I mindlessly glanced up... and my eyes froze on her. Her table was diagonal to ours a good couple yards away. I hadn't seen her in so long – and hoped to god she didn't notice me. My heart dropped, and if it had been possible, it probably would have hit the floor. How fucked up and weird... that I was now seeing her after today's meeting. I guess it was just meant to be a day where my mistakes are shoved in my face. However, I wouldn't call what I did to her just a mistake. It was...unimaginably worse.

I've only seen her a handful of times. Never without her being aware of me. Which is why this was the first time seeing her emotionally in control. Aside from that, she looked the same. Mid 40s with straight brown hair cropped at her shoulders. There were more wrinkles around her eyes and face from the last time I saw her. God, it made my heart race with guilt. Guilt that started to drown me when I took in the little girl sitting across from her.

Her daughter was facing her, and from the angle, I couldn't see much of her face. Just her stringy brown hair and pink tee-shirt. That poor girl. Her poor mother. Fuck, that poor family, oh my god! The sight of them immediately blurred from my tears.

I looked back to Irene. "We need to go. Please," I said, nodding over to the woman.

Irene glanced over her shoulder. She took a long moment to look back to me. Eyes dropping to the table, she asked softly, "Did she notice you?"

I sighed, blinking away the pathetic tears. "I'm sure if she did, she would leave."

"Ruth, I'm sorry, you need to grow up."

"It's fine, it's fine, I'll just wait in the car," I said, flustered, getting up and leaving.

I can be over-dramatic at times. I'm well aware of that and so is Irene. But I didn't think I was this time. Thankfully, Irene didn't give me a hard time when she came out with our to-go boxes. She knew this was too much for me to handle.

"I'm sorry," I whispered from where I was sitting in the driver's seat.

"It's okay."

We sat there for a long moment before I started my car. Though I was done with the meeting and I could no longer take seeing that lady... the judgment part of it wasn't over. I would always judge myself for what I did, and I think the reminder made Irene judge me for it too.

We said our goodbyes for the day – a little awkwardly too. Then, I was on my way back to my hilly little village. It was the first time I wanted to be there more than the city. Too many reminders were in the city. Well, today at least.

Half way home, and mid-cigarette, I couldn't take it. My vision turned blurry and I pulled over to have my little break-down. I was good at shutting stuff out... but to see that lady... nope. I couldn't hold it in. I managed blocking out everything regarding that woman, but seeing her did me in. Parked on the shoulder of the road, I sobbed my eyes out.