I enter into the gymnasium of the local high school; it’s kind of a weird place for an AA meeting, but it’s not like I’ve been to a lot of them. My old AA group I had only attended a handful of meetings. The head woman leading up the support group is this uptight looking woman named June. She only looks uptight, though. She’s actually a total former party girl who just pulls her hair back too tight and dresses to impress; this is not exactly the kind of group of people I would care to try to impress.

The chairs are sitting around in a circle, and there is a table with some snacks and sodas set up. I ignore the food and go sit down next to June. I’m the first to arrive, so the two of us sit and talk. She encourages me to be open and honest and all that sort of shit with the group in order to take advantage of the support group. A few minutes into our conversation this geeky looking guy –tall and scrawny yet he gives off a business guy vibe. He plops down in the chair next to me and gives me this goofy grin. “You’re new,” he states the obvious and then sticks his hand out to shake, “Bobby.”

“Jonathan,” I say. He seems friendly enough; in fact, he’s the only one who bothers to talk to me as the room starts to fill up and people take their seats.

June starts the meeting off, and she puts me on the spot slightly by pointing out that I’m new. I have to do the whole, “Hello, my name’s Jonathan, and I’m an alcoholic,” bit before we get underway. I keep my mouth shut after that, though, because I’m not in much of a sharing mood just yet. I kind of feel like I got to get to know the room before I start airing all of my dirty laundry.

Today’s topic is really fitting though, so I am almost tempted to share despite it being my first meeting. June has everyone talking about how alcoholism has affected our work environment. I lost my job –my dream job as a professional boxer. Alcohol was a factor –although not the primary cause. I decide not to share, but the guy Bobby raises his hand. After he starts talking, I realize that I know him –not personally, but I know who he is. Bobby was the former DA –a big time lawyer who lost his job after a couple of DUI’s. Now, he’s working a desk job as an assistant for this tiny one-man law firm. “I’m back to square one,” he says, “but I’m thankful that I’m able to have a job at all after the media blasted me the way they did. It’s my fault, I realize that now. I am doing a job I haven’t done since I was fresh out of law school, so it really pains me to be back on the bottom working for a lawyer that I never would have blinked at, but it’s a job. I’m grateful for it, and on the bright side, he’s going to have me taking my first case soon since I lost my job as DA three years ago.”

There is a small round of applause given to him and a few congratulations shared; apparently he’s about a year sober now. I’m hoping I can get there; I can kind of relate to the guy with the whole media frenzy thing. His name is Bobby Duplex, and I remember seeing that on the news… and kind of laughing about it with Brandi. Now I feel bad because he seems like a stand-up guy.

Once the meeting is dismissed, pretty much everyone hangs around for snacks and sodas to chit-chat. A lot of people here have been attending the same group for years, so I feel kind of like the odd man out. Bobby is cool though, and we wind up standing beside one another talking after the meeting. “So, Jonathan,” he says, “What do you do?”

“Right now I’m a trainer at a women’s gym,” I say.

He laughs slightly, “I bet that’s fun. I wouldn’t mind working with a bunch of women in sports bras and yoga pants.”

“They all hate me,” I say, and he laughs.

He pauses for a second like he’s studying my face. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

“I don’t think so,” I say and look down. It’s Alcoholics Anonymous for a reason; I’d rather keep myself anonymous, but Bobby figures me out.

“Holy shit, you’re Jonathan Trial! I saw your match against Donte!” he says excitedly, “I was there! Front row and center. Hell, man, that was rough. I was there the night you two got into it in the locker room.”

I look away and slam my soda down on the table. “I got to go,” I say, thinking that I need to find a new AA group.

I head out of the gym, but June catches me in the hall. She seems determined to not let me leave. “Jonathan, I heard you and Bobby talking,” she says, “I can talk to him to make sure he doesn’t tell anyone else about that if it makes you uncomfortable.”

I frown. “I’m sorry,” I say, “I probably shouldn’t have come here.”

“No, you certainly should have,” she argues, “this is a safe place, Jonathan, and we’d hate to see you leave. This is a good group of people. And we’re here to help each other.”

I nod, but I’m not convinced. I tell her I’ll be back, but I’m pretty sure I won’t. I head out to the parking lot, and I got to crank up the stupid pink car… and it stalls. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I start banging on the steering wheel and throwing out as many curse words as I know. I’m so tired. I’m exhausted. I cannot take anymore setbacks. After spending about ten minutes banging on the steering wheel and cussing at the car for not starting, I hop out and pop the hood. When I open up the hood, I stare at the empty space for another ten mintues, confused out of my mind.

“Hey, man, it’s one of those old school Volkswagens,” it’s Bobby; he had apparently stood aside watching me have a nervous breakdown. “The engine is in the back, not the front. The front trunk is for storage.”

I knew that, but in my current state of mind I had not been able to process it. “Right, right,” I say and head around to the back of the car.

“You have no idea how to get that car started up again, do you?” Bobby asks me.

A part of me wants to tell him to fuck off, but I decide against it. I rather not be stranded in the parking lot of a high school. “Not really,” I say.

“I got some jumper cables in my car. Give me a second,” he says and disappears, eventually returning in this nice silver Honda. He sets up the cables, and we sit around waiting for the car to jump.

“Thanks,” I grumble.

“No problem,” he has this goofy smile plastered on his face. “Listen,” he says, “I’m sorry if I said something to tick you off; I’d hate for you not to come back because of me.”

I sigh. “I guess I just didn’t want to be here in the first place,” I admit.

“I know how that is,” he says, “I’ll keep my mouth shut about the boxing thing, though. It’s none of my business. I was just surprised to see you here. I’ve always been a fan.”

“No offense, man, but you don’t exactly look like the kind of guy who would go to a boxing match,” I say.

He smiles again and goes digging for his phone. “My old man was a boxer,” he says and pulls up an old picture from one of his social media pages. “He wanted a sporty kid, but I just wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing. Don’t get me wrong –he was proud as hell when I passed my bar exam, but he definitely wished he could have had another boxer in the family. We used to go to matches together all the time, and we still do from time to time. He’s just gotten a little old for that sort of thing. I’d never get in the ring myself, but I love a good fight.”

“Well I’ll be,” I say as I take a look at the old pictures of his dad in the ring.

“He was just an amateur boxer, but he was proud of those championship titles,” he says. Then he frowns as he puts up his phone. “Are you really working at a woman’s gym now?”

“Yeah,” I grumble as he unhooks our cars.

“So… what is this, like a company vehicle or something?” he asks as he examines the pink Volkswagen.

I laugh. “No, but I might start telling people that. After my wife left, that’s all I got in the divorce.”

“That’s cold man,” he says.

“You have no idea,” I say.

“All right, your car should be good. Give it a go,” he says.

I hop in the driver’s seat, and it cranks. Thank God. The geeky lawyer guy knew how to get my car started, and I couldn’t even find the damn engine. I smile at him, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” he says and starts to head to his car.

“Hey,” I say, “I’ll see you next week.”

He smiles again. “Great!”

I roll my eyes and pull out of the parking lot. I guess for my first AA meeting, it wasn’t so bad.