Chapter One
"My name is Grace, and I'm an alcoholic."
"Hi, Grace," the crowd dutifully murmured.
Grace sat back down, horrified. She shouldn't be here. She wasn't an alcoholic, a drunk, a ruined waste of cells. She wasn't her mother. She wasn't.
"Grace," the AA man said "when was the last time you took a drink?"
Grace couldn't answer. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't. God, when had she gotten so weak? The man wouldn't look away; his eyes bored into her. They were grey and piercing and they hurt her… just like Luke's.
"It's okay, Grace," he said. "You're among friends here."
"I… had some vodka yesterday," she finally muttered.
"Any today?" Greg—Grace finally noticed the nametag—asked kindly.
"I don't drink before noon," she spat out. Greg wasn't fazed by the hostility.
"That's good, Grace," he said soothingly. "Soon you won't be drinking at all." He turned his attention back to the group. "Soon, none of you will be drinking. You took the first step; you're getting help. I'm proud of you."
This is when Grace stopped listening. What a bunch of shit. In two days, most of the people in the room would be drunk off their asses. Grace knew she would.
xxxxx
An intelligent thought finally broke into her drunken haze. Self-fulfilling prophesies suck. You can't escape them.
Grace wanted an escape. That's all she wanted. Was that so much to ask? Grace felt tears start to well up and she reached for the bottle. It was rum today. Today was a rum day. Rum and coke. Rum and coke without the coke. No coke. No cocaine either. Drugs are bad. Rum is good. Good rum. Dumb rum. Rum is dumb. I'm dumb.
Grace leaned forward and cried. She hated her mother.
xxxxx
Grace celebrated her twenty-fifth birthday with the Rabbi. He drove all the way to New York City from Maryland to be with her. Grace loved him for it and resolved not to drink anything that day. She wouldn't show him what had become of her.
"Gracie," her dad said hesitantly during dinner, "I ran into Helen Girardi at the grocery store last week." He paused to see her reaction.
Grace needed a drink. Immediately. She needed to excuse herself, walk into her kitchen and pour some vodka into her lemonade. She didn't, of course. The Rabbi took her non-response to mean this was a safe topic.
"She said Luke is doing well," he continued. "He's finishing up some research at Caltech."
"Good for him," Grace choked out.
"Yeah," her dad nodded. "And Joan's thinking about moving back to Arcadia. She doesn't like Florida."
"Did she say anything about Adam?" Grace asked.
"No. I know he and Joan still talk sometimes, though. I think I remember Carl mentioning that his girlfriend is annoyed by 'Jane.' Poor girl."
"She's worried over nothing. They haven't been together in years," Grace remarked with a sigh. Those were the good old days. Grace had never thought she would consider high school the good old days.
"Yeah." Her dad took a bite of chicken. "Oh, and Kevin finally married that Beth girl. Do you remember her?"
"No."
"Me neither," he laughed, "but I didn't tell that to Helen."
"Smart move."
The rest of the meal was pleasant. Grace made her dad leave, though, as soon as dinner was finished. He shouldn't be driving so far so late at night, and Grace wasn't sure her resolve could hold out much longer. The news about her old friends was bringing up too many memories, and Grace needed to escape them.