Synopsis: Willie takes the first of 12 steps on the road to recovery. The good part is that they have free cookies.


Alcoholics Anonymous members met weekly in the basement of St. Monica's Episcopal church. The room was crowded with people, some of whom Willie recognized, most of whom he would not have expected to see. The room smelled of fresh-brewed coffee and a thick cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air.

The new participant planned to stand in the back, but a friendly lady approached, shook his hand and led him to the refreshment table. There the young man loaded up a Styrofoam cup with hot coffee, creamer and lots of sugar. He grabbed a handful of cookies and sat down.

The meeting was a lot of talking. They read the 12 Steps out loud.

Number One: Admitting you were powerless over alcohol. Already Willie didn't understand it. If you're powerless, then how can you stop? It made more sense to say you were more powerful than alcohol and could kick its ass.

Number Two: Believing there was a power greater than yourself. That would be Barnabas, who would be mad if he screwed this up.

Number Three started talking about God, so he tuned out the rest and concentrated on dunking cookies.

"Is this a first time for anybody tonight?" Willie's attention returned to the gathering. He looked around to see no one responded, but the group leader was looking directly at him. In such a small town, the appearance of a stranger was immediately evident. Reluctantly, Willie raised his hand.

"Welcome." The moderator smiled genuinely. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

His leg started to twitch. "I-I'm Willie," he said in a small voice.

"Hi, Willie!" the whole room chimed in, causing the young man to turn bright pink.

Next, various volunteers got up and related to the group horrific anecdotes of how alcohol had ruined their lives and now they were saved by this program. Willie hoped to god they weren't going to ask him to do that. He had no desire to share his personal tales of terror, although he could probably one-up anybody there if they were looking for shock value. Nobody else had their own vampire and a rotting friend in the basement.

At the end, everyone stood up, held hands and said a prayer about serenity. Willie didn't like to pray or hold hands, but would look up the word serenity when he got home. He grabbed his jacket and hit the road before anyone else could have a chance to speak to him.

Willie sat in his white pickup truck waiting for the engine to warm up before heading back. It sure would be nice to stop at the Blue Whale on the way home, just for a short one. After all, he wasn't allowed to keep any booze in the house anymore, so if he had only one drink, once a week, after his AA meeting, that couldn't do any harm.

The town's only tavern was always bustling, even on week nights. Willie sat at the bar and ordered a beer before spotting Harry Johnson sitting at a nearby table. The ex-con was talking to a clean-cut young man in a business suit. He looked familiar but Willie couldn't place the face. It wasn't until he overheard their conversation that he recognized Buzz Hackett's voice.

"Buzz? Is that you?" The young man looked embarrassed as Willie approached their table. "What happened to your Mohawk?"

"Buzz got a buzz cut!" Harry laughed at his own joke.

"Carolyn said to cut it off because it wasn't acceptable for the office." The biker looked miserable, but motioned for Willie to join their table.

"What office?"

"I'm working at Collins Enterprises. La Mama said if I was going to marry her daughter, I had to improve my prospects."

"What about your band?"

Buzz sniffed in disgust. "The Rude Mechanicals threw me out. And it was my band; I started it."

"Man, that sucks." Willie took a sip of his drink and spat it out on the floor. It tasted like someone had pissed in it. "Damn. Somethin's wrong with my beer."

Harry looked at the blond man's potable and then his own, which was identical. He helped himself to a sample. "Taste's okay to me."

"You drink it then." He pushed the libation towards Harry, who looked like he really didn't need another, and returned his attention to Buzz.

"Maybe you could talk to Carolyn. You're s'possed to be marryin' her, not her mom."

"I never see her. It's like planning a wedding for her is a full time gig." Buzz ran his fingers through where his hair used to be. "I thought she cared about me." The other two stared at him. "Alright, I wanted her to. I don't know why she ever went out with me in the first place; we have nothing in common."

Willie knew why, but didn't see the point in telling him the truth.

"I know she liked my music, but now the band is gone, and Mrs. Stoddard wants me to use my real name and change my major at UMA. I don't know anything about business administration."

"Sounds like it has to do with makin' money. That's what Collins people do." Willie didn't realize that the punk rocker went to an institution of higher education. "That's a college, right?"

"University of Maine, Augusta."

What are ya goin' there for?"

"Elizabethan literature, mostly, but all the European Renaissance—and Restoration, too. That's why I named my band the Rude Mechanicals. It's an inside joke, you see?"

Willie nodded in apparent agreement; Harry belched into his glass.

"Just wonderin'," Willie ventured a question. "What kinda job do ya get if ya know Elizabethan literature?"

Buzz threw his arms into the air. "At a university, you moron."

Harry snapped out of his stupor and, thinking an altercation was in progress, prepared to throw a punch. Willie pushed him back into his seat.

"Settle down, big guy. Drink yer beer."

"He called me a moron."

"No, he called me a moron. You are an imbecile." Buzz snorted with laughter, which only encouraged Willie to continue. "Here's a new rule for you: don't hit anybody smarter than you are, and you'll never get in trouble." The smaller man handed him fifty cents. "I want you to go put this in the juke box, and you're gonna think about what I said, okay?"

Harry nodded and made his way, with a slight sway, to the other end of the bar. Buzz was still stifling a guffaw and slapped the servant on the back. Willie flinched involuntarily, but he smiled inside and proceeded to advise the young undergrad, as he was older and wiser.

"Now, it's none a' my business, but maybe gettin' married's not a good idea. If you're havin' trouble now, it'll only get worse later, right? Just tell her you made a mistake, go back to school and start a new band."

"I want to. Don't think I haven't thought about it. It's just that I'm…"

"A chicken shit?"

The biker laughed. "I was going to say afraid of hurting Carolyn, but—what you will."

"You couldn't hurt Carolyn if you cracked her with a crowbar."

"Yeah, what about you, Mr. Giving Out Free Advice?" Harry had rejoined his companions. "You were rough trade for that big shot McGuire and now you're playing errand boy for the crazy Collins on the hill. I heard that place where you live doesn't even have heat or power. Ha, I bet you have to go outside to use the can."

"No." Willie looked defensive. "I got plumbin' and it works good."

"Why do you work there?" Buzz was curious as well. "Are you into historical renovation or do you just like to fix things up?"

Willie considered launching into the line of his usual bullshit but reversed the decision. Though in unfamiliar territory, he thought he might be making a friend, and it didn't seem right.

"It's complicated," he said in way of explanation. Harry winked at Buzz and snickered as the blond man stood. "I gotta get back. He shits a brick if I'm late."

Willie headed back out into the frigid night air. Collinsport sure wasn't a good place to get coupled. Barnabas had struck out in the woman department, Jason had sure failed, and now Buzz was looking pretty unhappy. His mind wandered to Maggie Evans, probably asleep right now at that big crazy farm where Dr. Hoffman used to work. The young man wondered if she was lonely too, if he would ever see her again, and if she would remember him, maybe just a little.