-Naruto-
I did my first speaker meeting tonight! I've done first-step shares and chaired a lot, but never this! I held the floor for an hour and a half! Sharing, getting personal…crying, getting really personal…it was good for me. "Circle up, we don't do lines anymore!" Stacy hollers. "Hardy-har-har," several people, including Sasuke nearby, shout sarcastically. It is an old, stale joke. People are shuffled. Sasuke and I are close to one another and make eye contact, then—
"Stretch!" shouts Holly. She calls me often. I like her. She reaches for Sasuke. "We can hold hands! In AA we held hands," he explains. "Sacrilege!" she shouts. They both crack up laughing. We're N.A. purists here. Standoffs between N.A. members and A.A. members in the parking lot are common. Some newcomers look around nervously. "In N.A., we put our arms around each other," I remind them gently. They do so. Nahum shuffles over to remind me that the house meeting in two days will include roommate interviews, new guys, since one of the guys recently moved out. I make a face and Sakura, my sponsor, notices and laughs. "Put it on your fourth step." I sigh. "Will someone read 'Just for Today.'"
"Just for today…"
Interviews are annoying, but new guys tend to be cool. I always like seeing the expressions on their faces when it's their first UA. I was mortified at the thought of pissing into a small container to prove I wasn't doing drugs. I've since gotten used to it, since it helps me stay in Oxford. This is probably future-tripping, but I wonder who the new one will be. "So long as I follow that way, I have nothing to fear," the room rumbles, and I start paying attention again for half a second. "Many of us have said—" The roommate thing doesn't need to go on my resentment list. I'm fine. Sakura and I are going to go over my third step soon. The circle breaks as the meeting ends and people mingle. Someone smells like bubble gum. It's annoying. "Hey, Naruto, um…" Sasuke isn't the one who does. He doesn't smell like anything, after the bubble gum. He looks away from me, then looks me right in the eye. He fidgets. Why is he nervous? "I really…appreciated—" He straightens suddenly and looks me right in the eye, speaking firmly. "I really appreciated how honest you were in your share." I was? "I wouldn't have spoken about most of that at all, and would have glossed over important details. You didn't. That takes courage." This is the most I've ever heard him say.
"I needed that," he continues. "I needed someone to be that honest. And you're cool." He deflates. "You're gonna hear that from me a lot, and roll your eyes every time you see me and think, 'Oh, there he comes again, boring, telling me I'm cool."
"No," I said, laughing. "No…I wasn't really a cool kid until I came into this program. Say it again and again." A smile momentarily flashes across the face that looks like it would crack if he really grinned. I wonder what his story is. "Anyway, um, yeah." He retreats into his ever-present black hoodie. "See you soon, I guess, or something." Color stains his face. Blushing is…weird. "Yeah!" Several people turn. Shit. I hadn't meant to shout. I was trying to relax him a little. He nods and scurries off.
This is so weird. Before I got clean…suddenly I am so tired. The adrenaline's leaving, I guess. Erik invites me for coffee as fellowship. Do I want to? No. I'm so tired. Sakura warned me this would happen at my first speaker meeting—strangers would introduce themselves (Erik) and try to get me to go for fellowship, and I didn't have to go if I didn't want to. I don't. I want to go back to the house and sleep. Fuck, it's not even ten at night. What day is today? Friday? Do I have rehearsal tomorrow? No…good…sleep...I just want to fall over. "C'mon, you," Kiba drapes an arm around me, holding me up. "He's dead on his feet. Let's get him into the car." I groan, not moving very quickly. Akamaru nudges me. "Fine," I mutter. Staci "with an 'I' not a 'y,' I'm not the treasurer –or- an addict!" zips by as we all shuffle out. She's going to wind up on my resentment list soon. –She's- not an addict, but she comes here anyway. –She- doesn't have to deal with the shit we do. –She- is only here because she wants a better way of life.
It says in the literature you can come to N.A. if you desire a better way of life. That's why she's here. I don't know any more than that. I've never talked to her. She's cheerful, blonde and annoying when she does talk, so according to others, we could have things in common. Maybe a women's group would help her even more. When I complained to Sakura about her the first time, we had a conversation about how I was apparently trying to limit the membership of N.A.
"She's not a drug addict. The only requirement to join N.A. is a desire to stop using drugs," I argued.
"She wants a better way of life."
"Why does she hang out with drug addicts?!"
"Recovering drug addicts."
"She needs to leave us alone! Her being there violates the privacy of every person in there. Staci—"
"Staci's parents are drug addicts."
"Then get her into Nar-Anon," I groan.
"It doesn't work for everyone. N.A. works for her," Sakura points out.
I sigh, out of arguments. "Her perfume smells bad and her voice hurts my teeth," is not a reason to kick someone out of a meeting even if it's true.
My bed is welcoming.
My roommates' weekend-job alarms at five o'clock Sunday morning are not. And ugh, tomorrow we're doing new roommate interviews…and SHIT today Sakura and I are doing my third step and I forgot. Okay, not a crisis. Oh, I didn't do my gratitude list last night. I grab my notebook and jot down ten things I'm grateful for.
I wish I could sleep in. I can't. I have to meet Sakura in an hour. I make frustrated noises at myself and mess up my hair as I plan my day in my head, or try. "It's good for you, Naruto," Sakura sometimes teases me. "Getting up with your roommates at the ass-crack of dawn on Sundays fosters a sense of community and empathy." Sakura works so much, and does a lot of stuff outside of work, that Sundays are pretty much her only free day. Six AM is when she gets off of work now, so she's awake then. I'm not. Sakura lives alone in an apartment and can do what she wants. I live with five other guys and the battle for resources is vicious. Hot shower water is a precious thing. The guys and I had a polite, but loud, conversation when they realized what it meant to have a musical theater actor in the house: pounds of face and body paint and makeup that needed to be washed off every night. We negotiated and used "I" statements. Nobody swore! There were a few remarks about "This is the last time we let an actor in the house," "That's job discrimination!" "Have you SEEN the water bill?!" but we worked through it. The makeup doesn't happen till halfway through the rehearsal process or later, anyway. But today is Sunday, so no rehearsal, so no showering.
"And tomorr—fuck, I'll be getting home right as we start preparing for the interviews. I'm just gonna sit there in my bright sparkly makeup and fucking sparkle at the newcomers, and my sparkly nail polish, hands and feet," I fume. Sakura can't stop laughing. "Laugh! Laugh, paramedic lady, laugh! Happy six o'clock in the morning! Makeup! On my face! For so many hours!"
"Flames, flames! On the side of my face!" Sakura teases, giggling. I ignore her even though it's a line from one of my favorite movies. "It's greasy! The powder kind is even worse! It itches after awhile! And none of my roommates will blow on my face." I cross my arms. "Breathe. I don't know CPR. I knew it twelve years ago." Sakura collects herself. "And the makeup makes me break out if I leave it on too long!" I wave my arms in frustration, then sigh.
"Naruto, remind me again what blowing on your face is."
"We can't touch our faces because the makeup will smear, so when our faces itch, we politely whisper to other cast members to blow on the spot that itches."
"Okay."
We reach for our coffees. I bring my coffee tumbler over. One less dish for Sakura to wash. She always insists that she doesn't mind. "So, step three." Sakura flips through the step working guide. Sometimes I hate step work. It's me reading out loud answers I wrote to very detailed questions, when I meet with Sakura anyway. I wish I could just hand the old, worn spiral-bound notebook to her so she could read and grade my answers, like a teacher or something. I remember my frustration when I first tried to do that five years ago and was met with, "No. Read them out loud to me."
"Hey Naruto, it's your favorite section: self-will." We laugh a little. It breaks up the monotony of read-and-respond. Sakura looks down at the book as she reads the questions out loud. I shift in my seat and look at the notebook. "When I make up my mind that I do or don't want to do something, there are times where I'll barrel ahead and do it. I ignore other people's (wiser) opinions on it and I get really wrapped up in my own feelings. I ignore people who have been through whatever I'm doing. I don't listen to my Higher Power in those times, either." Sakura nods. "Sounds about right. How has that worked out for you?" Sometimes she asks very casual versions of the questions. "It's made me more controlling—everything has to go my way. I don't listen to others and I wind up missing out on a lot of opportunities." Also known as, I was wrong. It is said that addicts have a need to always be right.
"I don't like being told what to do," I continue. Sakura is trying not to laugh. "I still think I know better than anyone, and none of you are actors, so of course I do." She starts laughing, both because this is true and she can relate. "I listen to directors and stage managers!" I protest. "And ASMs!"
"Yeah, well, I listen to my supervisors too. You know this question means more than that."
"I'm sticking by my answer."
"Okay. Let's keep going."