Lars
IF I WASN’T who I was–a person who I’d been forced to come to grips with over the past week–I would think all of these people were nuts.
They each stood and said their names and how long they’d been clean.
I was Lars Grekov and I’d been clean six days longer than I cared to be.
Molly had brought me a couple of towns over for the meeting. I wasn’t sure if that was for her benefit or mine.
I’d be embarrassed if I was her too.
“I’m Samuel and I’ve been sober for twelve years.”
It didn’t hit me until he stood up and eyed me while every word came from his mouth that this was the man from my town who owned the grocery store.
He knew who I was, and I knew who he was.
Didn’t matter. He’d seen me buy my liquor there. Didn’t take a genius to know what I was from a mile away.
I couldn’t say for sure that I hadn’t stumbled in there drunk in the first place.
He’d even turned me down a couple of times.
I was in my own head when the name saying came full circle. I thought it was an idiot thing to do, but when the crying lady next to me jabbed my shoulder, I figured I’d better ante up.
Except when I stood, nothing came out.
Nothing.
I opened my mouth. No one rushed me. It seemed that maybe this was a regular occurrence.
As I rocked back and forth on my heels, barely sustaining my balance enough not to fall down, I realized this is why they did it.
Because admitting who you are is part of the process.
Yes, I had come to terms with it under Molly’s pressure, but this was me, volunteering information about who I was and the sins I had buried in my chest to perfect strangers, and in the case of Sam, to people who had probably seen me at my worst.
Good thing I had an alcohol memory.
“I’m...I’m Lars…”
The boom of “Hi, Lars” was almost deafening in this little town church room, even with a few people.
Maybe my ears were just sensitive.
Maybe it had been that long since my name was called.
Maybe it had been that long since I’d said my own name out loud–owned my given name.
Now came the hard part.
“I’ve been sober for six days, maybe seven. It’s hard to keep track. It still feels like the first day though. I want a drink every second of every minute. It’s like a toothache.”
I sat down, thoroughly humiliated that I’d divulged so much information.
“Lars, it’s good to have you, now, let’s get down to business.”
There was more soul spilling and praying and steps to take, but I couldn’t hate on them, they were like me but in the future.
It gave me hope.
“Lars, I’m Sam. Do you remember me?”
He was your classic small-town grocer. Short cut hair, mustache for days. I fully expected him to be wearing a striped shirt and an apron.
“I do.” We shook hands, and I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I shook someone else’s hand.
“I was glad to see you here. And don’t worry, what happens at AA stays at AA. Kind of like Vegas.”
I gave him an obligatory chuckle.
“Yeah, I guess I’m glad to be here. If you had asked me from shutting the car door to the chair, things would’ve been different.”
“Hey, you’re here and that’s the main thing.”
“That’s true.”
He took a stale cookie from the pile and then groaned at the taste. “If you ever need anything, let me know.”
Sometimes things come out of my mouth and I don’t know why. This was one of those times.
“You got any part-time work for a drunk Veteran?”
It sounded harsh, and Sam cringed at my candor.
“I can make a part-time position for a brother who needs it. How about we start slow? Stocking for two hours a day, a few days a week, and work up from there?”
I thought about it. Hopefully, I would be able to keep my stuff together for two hours a day.
I could. I could do that.
“Yeah, Sam, I can do that. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem, Lars. We’re all looking out for you–always have been.”
I didn’t know what that meant but the crying woman was already talking to him so I walked away.
And back to Molly.
I got in the car. She didn’t ask me anything. She didn’t even ask if I went in. For all she knew, I could’ve gone into the church and sat in a stall in the bathroom the entire time.
She didn’t care after all.
I was just a canker sore to her.
Something to get rid of and go on about her life.
My head was fuzzy.
“You wanna drive around a bit? I don’t feel like going back to that apartment just yet.”
“Sure. That sounds good. I need some fresh air.”
We drove around for about two hours with the windows down. Her shoes were off and so were mine. We stopped for milkshakes but she hadn’t touched hers yet.
Milkshakes were her favorite. Any flavor. Any time.
She stopped, threw the car into park and stared out the window beyond my head.
“What are you looking at?”
I didn’t have to ask her again and she didn’t have to answer. We both knew exactly what we were looking at.
Our old house.
“Were you happy here? Even for a little while?” Again, my mouth was a traitor.
“Of course. I was happy here for most of the time.”
That only brought about more questions in my mind.
“Weren’t you happy with me?”
This non-drinking crap was making me sappy. I drank to avoid sappiness.
She looked at me. I could feel it but I didn’t meet her gaze. “Of course I was. I love…I loved you, Lars. Since the first day we met.”
“You mean the day I bought you a snowball,” I replied.
She laughed but it was hollow. “Yeah, wedding cake flavored. I thought it was a sign.”
I smiled, but it faded quickly, just like us.
“What happened, Molly? What happened to you and me and everything we planned? When did I lose you?”
She breathed out a sigh laced with heaviness. It was obviously something she didn’t plan on talking about tonight, but like the AA meeting, sometimes we didn’t plan these things.
Plus, if she didn’t want to talk about it, maybe she shouldn’t have pulled up in front of our old house.
“Do you remember when you were stationed in Germany and I told you I wasn’t feeling well? It was about three months before you were deployed. You got excited because you thought I was pregnant but then we did the math and there was no way. Do you remember that?”
I did. She was having some pains but later chalked it up to menstrual cramps or something.
“I remember.”
“It…” She laughed but I didn’t find anything funny. “It’s hard to say this. I’ve been keeping it from you for so long. It was cancer, Lars. I had uterine cancer. It was stage three and short of a hysterectomy, there was nothing anyone could do.”
I wished the world would open up and swallow me in that moment. I was in Germany, drinking way too many steins of beer, waiting for news from two places: my superior officers and my wife. And the latter of the two was going through something life-shattering.
I was an idiot.
But she was an idiot for not telling me.
“Why didn’t you tell me. I would’ve come home. They would’ve given me a leave. You were my wife, Molly. I would’ve taken care of you. I love you.” There was a D missing in that sentence, or maybe there wasn’t. I was full of rage thinking about how blind I had been. My voice rose with every word until I was screaming at her.
“I know you would’ve. That was the problem. You were so passionate about two things other than me when we first got married. You remember what those two things were?”
“Having a family with you and my career.”
“Exactly. I knew that. I saw the joy in your face when you held your nieces and nephews. I knew you had come from a big family and wanted to have an even bigger one. Plus, going on leave would’ve delayed your career plans. It would’ve ruined your dreams, Lars. I would’ve ruined your dreams.”
She was wrong. She was my dream.
There was no big family or even the dream of one if it didn’t include her.
She was the breath in my lungs and the bubble that included those dreams. Without her, it all just popped and fizzled to nothing.
And also...how dare she make that decision alone.
“The day they told me I had to have a full hysterectomy is the day I filed for divorce. I had the surgery three days after you were deployed to Afghanistan. Your mom took care of me in the hospital. I sold the house and moved away shortly after that. That way you could…you were free to have those dreams with someone else.”
“Just go, Molly. Get me away from here before I say something I…no, you know what? At this point, I would mean every word of it. Just go.”
I didn’t speak to her the whole way home, and I thought I probably damaged her car door while getting out with the force of shutting it.
There was only one thing I thought about at that moment.
It was a thought that I knew, in the back of my mind would be erased with one drink.
Just one drink and she was driving me to it.
How dare she?