I WANT TO UNDERSTAND DEZ COULTER
Dez leads us all into a small conference room. I look for the circle of addicts holding hands, but all I see are people scattered among the four rows of chairs facing the podium. I haven’t even moved out of the doorframe when a homeless guy named Eric introduces himself to me and my dad. He quickly tells us he struggles with alcohol addiction. When he asks me what I’m addicted to, I tell him Cocoa Puffs. He gives me a sympathetic look that makes me think he’s forgotten he’s the one with the addiction.
“You need tonight,” he says. “It will help your denial.”
A man with a thick mustache and Coke-bottle glasses, the man who met with Dez at Pritchett’s last night, steps up to the podium. “Hello, hello, everyone.”
“Hello, hello,” the room responds.
Not even a minute into the meeting, and I’ve almost thrown up and punched a homeless guy. I take a deep breath and think of my playlists.
“If you could gather in your seats, we can get started.”
I make my way to the front to sit next to Dez, but Mr. Crotcher waves me into a row with the Knights of Vice. I get to sit next to Elliot, “Brother of the Universe,” and watch as Homeless Eric scores the seat next to Dez.
“Well,” the man at the podium says, “welcome to Addiction Fighters. I’m Doug Bunson, but feel free to call me Doug. I see some new faces out there so I’ll explain what we do here, and our basic structure.” Doug pushes his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Addiction Fighters is based off the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. Can anyone tell me what those steps are?”
Homeless Eric stands up. “One: admit our powerlessness. Two: believe in a greater power. Three: release our lives. Four: inventory our flaws. Five: confess our exact flaws. Six: be ready for God to remove our flaws. Seven: ask God to remove our flaws. Eight: be willing to make amends with those we’ve harmed. Nine: make amends with those we’ve harmed when possible. Ten: continue to inventory flaws and admit wrongs. Eleven: seek God in meditation and ask for power to carry out his will. Twelve: carry this message to others, and practice these principles.”
Homeless Eric sits down like Hermione Granger after answering a question in class. This guy has to be a fraud. He’s got to be here because he’s addicted to the high of being a better addict than everyone else. Maybe that’s his new way of making himself feel better.
“Very good, Eric,” Doug says. “Addiction Fighters is here to help people struggling with addiction by practicing the steps Eric just outlined. We’re an outlet for the soul. A judgment-free zone. As for our structure, each week looks a little different. Tonight, however, we’ll have an extra-long time of introduction and sharing. I’ll go first to give an example of how to share.”
Everything else Doug says is lost on me. I’m sure it’s some emotional story of how he found himself by coming here, and how happy he is to be a part of a group of people who suck at self-control. Instead of listening to him, I focus on Dez and organizing my playlists in my head.
I don’t know how long I’m in my own world, but I snap out of it when Mark stands and walks to the front of the room. He hates this. I can tell by how small his steps toward the podium are. Maybe I could talk to him. Maybe he’d be willing to give me some advice on how to glide through Mr. Crotcher’s program without dying of cliché addiction group-itus.
At the stage, he shares as quick possible. He winces throughout his speech, as though each spoken word is painful.
“I …”
Wince.
“Struggle with …”
Wince.
“Drug abuse. I’m nervous that I’m risking my chances of …”
Wince.
“Being a professional athlete.”
When he finishes, he takes a breath of relief and returns to his seat. Elliot, Trey, and Mr. Crotcher pat him on the back like he just finished a marathon.
Just when I think this meeting couldn’t get any more ridiculous, a woman takes the podium who’s “addicted” to soap operas. She says she uses them to remove herself from her own problems. She knows she needs help because she refuses to talk to people unless they have the name of a character in her favorite show.
Soap operas.
Really.
Trey’s addicted to sex, and in my opinion, that isn’t a bad problem to have. I make a mental note to ask him how he gets women to sleep with him. Elliot’s a self-harmer, which I saw coming with the hair, the calling everyone brother, and whatnot. Though it isn’t surprising he cuts, it’s strange because guys don’t cut. Although, as soon as I think that, I hear Dez’s voice in my head saying, “You flatter the male species with your gender specific delusions.”
Speaking of Dez, she’s walking up to the podium.
She clears her throat and lays a crumpled piece of paper on the podium. “I don’t read whole books. I think you can learn enough by reading the first and last lines. For example, here I am in word form: ‘We all have reasons for moving. I move to keep things whole.’ That’s the last line from Keeping Things Whole by Mark Strand.”
I swear her voice sounds like the roar of a waterfall, like nature resides in her lips. She’s smart. Can quote random lines from books. A true sultan of literary legacy.
Who is this girl?
“I’m Dez Coulter, and I’m addicted to addiction. By that I mean I’m addicted to the chemicals that come with addiction. That’s why I cycle through everything you can possibly be addicted to: food, drugs, information, alcohol. Currently, I’m addicted to porn. I know it’s only fueling my problems, but I can’t stop. It’s what I do. I move from thing-to-thing to keep myself whole. My addictions grow to a point where they don’t create the necessary chemical reaction, so I move on to the next. It makes me a perfect storm, because by the time I get back to the addiction I started with, it’s new enough to keep me going. I’ll probably kill myself if I don’t stop. Not because I want to, but because my existence is based on chemical pleasure. I’m a walking addiction clock, counting down to midnight, and I really want to stop before the arms swing too high. Thanks.”
She steps off the podium and everyone claps for her. I’d probably be clapping if I weren’t too confused to do anything but sit. How could someone so beautiful and perfect be so … messed up? More importantly, why am I even here? I’m not like these people. I’m not addicted to drugs, alcohol, or porn for that matter. I can stop thinking about it if I wanted to. It’s just a nice release, which you need when you live in a world as shitty as this one. I don’t need porn to survive. As a matter of fact, I’ll prove it. I won’t think about it at all tomorrow. Sure, I want to have sex, but what guy doesn’t?
Dez returns to her seat next to Homeless Eric. He smiles at her, and they hug—for real hug—as though he understands her. I don’t want to believe that Homeless Eric can understand Sexy Dez, but the look she gives him has undeniable soul. Suddenly, I want to be Homeless Eric.
I want to understand Dez Coulter.