got her on all the talk shows, with a reputation for being an excellent talking head. Which is what I love about Robyn. Despite her degrees and the letters after her name, she is nothing if not populist. I can ring her up about anything, even something as seemingly prosaic as ankle bracelets, and she’ll not only have an expert psychological opionion about them, she’ll make it sound brilliant.
“Robyn? It’s Cat here. From the Gazette.”
“How are you, Cat?” We have never met, but from the warmth in her voice, you would think we were old friends. I do, in fact, feel that she is almost a friend, at the very least someone I would absolutely talk to if ever I felt I had a problem and needed some help.
“I’m okay,” I say. “Writing about ankle bracelets today! Can you give me a quote, maybe about women using jewelry to attract the opposite sex, and maybe something about the ankles being a long-forgotten erogenous zone?” I am quite impressed with myself, having just come up with the idea about ankles, and Robyn laughs.
“Absolutely,” she says. “But let me just check in with you. Usually you say you’re great, and today you just said you’re okay. Are you okay? Anything you want to talk about?”
And this is why she feels like my friend. Or perhaps my unofficial therapist. Because who else would be able to ascertain, from two words, that I am completely preoccupied with the changes in my life?
Not that they’re bad. For the last few weeks my life has, in many ways, been better than it has been in years. I’m seeing Jason pretty much every evening at an AA meeting, and afterward, we’ll go out and grab something to eat, or see a movie. Often there will be others with us, and it’s the first time in my life I haven’t actually felt like I’m standing on the outside; it’s the first time in my life I feel like I fully belong.
Although it’s not all perfect. Technically I do have a sponsor, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with her. She said I had to call her every day, but I don’t call anyone every day. Not even my mother. What am I supposed to say to her? What if she tells me I have to do something?
I’m definitely drinking less. I tell them I’m counting days, but I’ve had a couple of … slips. A few. But I’m not drinking every day, and that’s definitely progress.
It’s not the drinking stuff that keeps me coming back, though. It’s the camaraderie. And if I’m honest, it’s wanting to see Jason, and of course keep him happy. He seems so proud of me not drinking, I’m trying to do it for him, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
I had no idea how lonely I was before I met Jason and started coming to these meetings. Not at work, I was never lonely at work, and after work I tried to fill every evening with launches and parties. When we were all single, it was a blast. I wouldn’t change a thing about my early twenties, but even I know that to expect to live the same life, do the same thing, as you approach your thirties is just a little bit sad.
The girls are all with their boyfriends or husbands, and I’m still going to the parties, still drinking, only now I think I really do want to stop. These past few weeks I’ve had a glimpse into a different way of life, and I’m beginning to think it looks better.
Given what I now know about myself, that I am not the woman I always thought I was, that I have this other family, I am even more amazed I’m not getting blasted every night.
Because I’m scared.
I know my mum has written to him, but what if he doesn’t write back? What if he wants nothing to do with me? What if I’m left completely fatherless? Even though, clearly, up until a few weeks ago I thought I had already been left fatherless. Could I go through that sort of rejection again? After the way the man I thought was my father rejected me his entire life by withholding affection, support, love?
The very thought of it makes me want to drown my feelings in a very big bottle of vodka. Which I have done, but not every night, not those nights I go to meetings