Echoes Between Us - McGarry, Katie Page 0,31
from mine. People stand and talk about alcohol, drinking and being thirsty. I don’t have the same problems they have. There’s no substance I crave in my veins to keep my motor running, but I do have this itch to jump. Ten miles down the road from this place is a nice drop into a pool of water. I was heading in that direction, but then guilt got the better of me. So here I am, in a room I don’t belong in because if I leave, I will literally jump off a cliff.
If anything, I’m hoping the meeting will last long enough that it will be too dark for me to jump and that will force me home. But I still want to jump …
School sucked. Miguel and Sylvia didn’t act shocked to see me in English, which makes me think I’m on the losing end of discussions about me. Swim practice went well, but then Coach started talking about his hopes for me and that sucked. Mom’s work meeting ran late and she forgot to pick Lucy up from school and then Lucy called me in tears. That definitely sucked.
My muscles under my skin tighten, and I shift uncomfortably in the chair. I should have gone to the cliff. It’s not a bad jump. One I’ve done before. The high dive at the Y is taller than the cliff. The jump is safe even. Not a big deal. Yeah, there’re rocks everywhere and there’re unseen ones under the surface, but—
“Hey.”
I glance up, startled to find a guy about the same age as me, maybe a few years older. He’s in jeans that sag, a white T-shirt that’s too big, and there are blue Converse on his feet. His blond shaggy hair makes me think he’s a surfer from California. “Hey.”
“First time?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I scan the room and people are standing around, chatting in groups. I must have missed the ending of the meeting.
He takes the seat next to me. “Do you have any questions?”
How do I ignore the urge to jump from cliffs? Even better, can you tell me how to kill the urge altogether? “No.”
“You sure?”
I clear my throat then rake a hand through my hair. “I don’t think I belong here.”
He tilts his head like he hears what I’m not saying. “Yet you’re here.”
Yet I am.
“I’m Knox.”
“Sawyer.”
“Nice to meet you, brother.” He even has a slow way of talking that reminds me of a stereotypical surfer, but considering we’re hundreds of miles away from an ocean I find that unlikely. “I had about a dozen first meetings before I had the balls to actually talk to someone. Even after that, I needed time to sit in the back and soak in everyone else’s words. If you need this to be one of those first meetings or if you need time, I’ll let you have your space, but if you need to talk to someone, I’m here.”
About a dozen first meetings sounds good. A hundred sound even better, but … “What if I don’t belong here?”
“I haven’t met anyone yet who doesn’t belong here. I started coming when I was sixteen, and I’ve been sober for five years. When I first started coming I didn’t think I belonged, either. All these people coming in and talking about broken hearts, loss of control and mistakes? I remember thinking that I wasn’t one of those fools, until one day I realized I wasn’t one of them—I was worse.”
That I get. I’m hesitant, but why not? It’s not like I’m coming back, and it’s not like I’ll ever see him again. “How do you stop doing what you crave when it’s all you think about?”
“I come here. I work the program. I call my sponsor when the craving hits, and I take it one day at a time.”
Sounds stupid. “I really don’t think this is for me.”
My response doesn’t ruffle him in the slightest. “Fair enough, but I do think you’re wrong. If you change your mind, I hope to catch you here again.”
We both stand. He turns away, but then says over his shoulder, “Don’t answer me this, but to yourself. I hear what you’re saying about this place not being your thing, but if you weren’t here, what would you be doing right now?”
He walks from me then, leaving me rooted in place because it’s scary how he read me when I didn’t think I was readable.
If I wasn’t here, I’d be jumping.
VERONICA
Leo: What the hell are