For the first time in months, three o’clock came and the door stayed closed.
No leather vest. No deep voice reading dragons to my kid.
I thought it would feel better.
It didn’t.
After a couple of days, Jenna said, “You told him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said.
I still felt like she heard me.
She nodded slowly.
“I can’t tell you what to do,” she said. “But for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen anyone show up like he did.”
That night, I stared at Hannah and said, “Do you want him here? Because I honestly don’t know what to do.”
She didn’t move, obviously.
I still felt like she heard me.
A few days later, I went to the noon AA meeting on Oak.
He didn’t mention my name or Hannah’s.
I sat in the back.
When it was his turn, he stood.
“I’m Mike, and I’m an alcoholic,” he said. “I’m also the reason a 17-year-old girl is in a coma.”
He talked about the crash. Jail. Trying to drink himself to death. His sponsor. The hospital.
He didn’t mention my name or Hannah’s.
After the meeting, he saw me.
“I’m not promising to talk to you.”
He froze.
I walked up.
“I don’t forgive you,” I said.
He nodded. “I don’t expect you to.”
“But,” I said, “if you still want to sit with her… you can. I’ll be there. I’m not promising to talk to you. But you can read.”
His eyes filled.
“Is it okay?”
Leave a Comment