foot to the other. “Was there something that snapped you out of it? Did something happen that made you realize you had to get sober?”
“I don’t know if it was one specific thing. More like a bunch of little things. One day I woke up and looked in the mirror and realized I didn’t like what I saw. I was living in a roach infested apartment, barely able to make rent. My girlfriend had left me. My family hadn’t spoken to me in over a year. I don’t know, it’s like it all just slapped me in the face. How utterly alone I was and it was all my own doing. Admitting that I needed help was the hard part. Once I got into a program, things started to get easier. Don’t get me wrong, I have bad days like everyone else. Days when I will stand outside of a liquor store for an hour trying to convince myself not to go inside. It’s like my body and my mind wage war against each other. Thankfully, there are meetings all over town at various times of the day. Because days like that, those are the days when I really need them.”
“It’s the first thing I think of every day when I wake up.” Until now I hadn’t admitted that to anyone.
“It’ll be that way for a while. It’s kind of like quitting smoking. The first few weeks it’s all you can do to get through the day without thinking about it. Then, after a while, you start to know life without it.”
“Smoking, that’s one thing I haven’t given up yet. Baby steps.” I smile.
“We all have our vices. We just have to pick and choose which ones we can live with and which ones will likely kill us.”
“Well, cigarettes probably will kill me… Eventually.”
“I put them down about three months ago. It was almost as hard as putting down the bottle. You just gotta take it one step at a time and don’t overwhelm yourself. Otherwise you’ll end up saying fuck it and giving into every urge you have.” He clasps me on the shoulder. “You’re lucky to have Tommy. He’s a good example at how hard work and determination can get you through just about anything.”
“Yeah, he keeps me in line, that’s for sure,” I agree. “You need anything else here?” I ask.
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the hand.”
“Anytime.” I nod.
Heading to the side entrance of the garage, I slip outside. All this talk of smoking has got me craving a cigarette. Sliding the pack out of my pocket, I pull a cigarette out and press it between my lips. Shoving the near empty pack back into my pocket, I light the end and take a deep draw.
The nicotine buzz hits me instantly and I immediately take another drag. This is about the only relief I get during the day. The only thing that even mildly takes the edge off.
I know it’s awful for me but given all the shit I’ve put in my body over the years, I figure it’s the lesser of the evils.
I’m about halfway through my cigarette when the door behind me opens. Turning, I nod when I see Tommy step outside.
“Can I bum one of those?” he asks.
“Sure.” I pull one out and hand it to him. He lights it, and then hands me back my lighter.
“Thanks. I forgot mine at home this morning.” He blows out a cloud of smoke that seems to stick in the humid air around us.
“No problem.”
“So, how’s it going today? You doing alright?” He bounces on his heels, seeming a bit more anxious than usual.
“Yeah, I’m good. I was just talking to Mike. I didn’t realize he was an alcoholic.”
“Is,” he corrects me, taking another drag from his cigarette.
“Huh?”
“Is. You said was an alcoholic. He is an alcoholic. Even if he hasn’t had a drink in years.”
“Right.” I nod.
That’s another thing that’s difficult. Admitting that you’ll always be an addict, even when you aren’t using.
“Fuck, this day is dragging.” Tommy reaches around and scratches the back of his head.
“You doing okay? Seem a bit on edge?”
“Who me?” His gaze swings in my direction. “I’m good. Just ready to get the fuck out of here. It’s been one of those days.”
Someone who’s not familiar with the telltale signs of an addict might overlook Tommy’s behavior. But I’m all too acquainted with what it feels like to fight off an urge when it hits you seemingly out of nowhere. Even