Tussinland (12 page)

THIRTY

Paul had met Tina at a picnic organized by the Hole-in-the-Wall. All the twelve-steppers were invited: AAs, NAs, ACAs, Alanons, Alateens. It was held at the old Graceda Park in downtown Modesto. There was a bouncy house for all the kids (there were a lot of kids), barbequed hot dogs and hamburgers, and a classic rock cover band. The band didn’t quite understand their crowd—kept making references to getting stoned, drinking, and partying. The drummer and bass player took long breaks to go out behind the bandstand to smoke weed.

Tina was brand new to Alanon. She’d just ended her third marriage in a row to an abusive alcoholic and hoped to find out why she kept making the same mistake over and over again. She wasn’t divorced yet, just separated, but she’d seen a lawyer and had gotten the process started. Her divorce attorney’s secretary suggested she try Alanon—Tina’d never heard of it before. Her six-year-old daughter Taylor’s father was her first husband, and her four-year-old son, Tyler, was born during her second marriage. Neither father had sought visitation and neither paid alimony or child support.

Tina’s life was quite together aside from her disastrous marriages. She was from a nice, middle-class family, though her parents had a cold, distant relationship. Her father was a depressed man who spent most of his time just sitting in a chair in the living room, staring at the TV when not working as an accountant for Gallo Winery. Neither of her parents drank. She had two older sisters who were married, with four children each, and they were both with solid, hard-working men. Nobody understood what was wrong with Tina.

As a senior clerk in the Stanislaus County Assessor’s office, she earned a good salary and had excellent benefits. She always had the look of an early 1970s hippy with her long brown hair, tight jeans, boots, and lacy blouses—but her clothes were always new and clean. She dressed Taylor and Tyler in the best clothes from department stores and both kids’ teeth were well-cared for with regular dentist visits. She always had a newer minivan that she kept clean at all times, and she lived in the nicest possible rental house in the nicest possible neighborhood.

Paul fell deeply in love with Tina the moment he saw her bend over to wipe ketchup off of Tyler’s face. He saw her ass in the tight jeans first. When she straightened up and turned to talk to the woman standing next to her and he saw her face, he thought she was the most adorable woman he’d ever seen. She looked quite stressed, but that didn’t matter, Paul was smitten.

She was talking to Maggie M., the undisputed leader of the local Alanon group. Maggie was married to Jack M., a local AA guru who was popular on the speaker circuit, and she gave a lot of talks herself about the program and sponsored about a dozen Alanon women at any one time.

Paul knew Maggie and she made him nervous. He kept staring at Tina and when he saw that Maggie noticed him, he turned to get in line for a burger. But he kept looking back because he just couldn’t get over Tina’s gorgeous face. She might be out of his league, but that wouldn’t stop him. Once he saw her alone and without Maggie by her side, he was going to do his best to make a connection.

AA birthdays for the month of June were celebrated that day. This was when Paul was still making a go of being a serious AA member, and this was the third anniversary of his sobriety. When it was his turn to blow out the candles and cut his cake, he noticed that the cute woman with the two kids was looking at him. He decided to make sure his share was as impressive as possible. He figured if she was there alone with two kids and talking to Maggie M., and he’d never seen her before, she must a new Alanon member. Great. This meant she was also, hopefully, newly single.

“First,” he said while looking down at the three-year chip in his hand, “I want to say how grateful I am to this program. It has given me something I’d been convinced I would never have: a life. A clean and sober life lived on life’s terms with the help of the tools of this program, and all that I’ve learned from each and every one of you, from my sponsor, from the Big Book, from working the steps, and of course, most of all, from my higher power.

“Because, you see, three years ago today, I had hit…what I hope…to be my absolute bottom. I was drinking a bottle of tequila every day—not a pint or anything lame like that—but one of those 750 milliliter bottles, along with eight or ten beers, and I was drinking to blackout almost every time I drank. My wife had finally gotten disgusted and left with the kids a month earlier.

“On this morning, June 17, three years ago, I woke up in my car. It was parked on the front lawn about an inch from the big front window. I was lying on the floor in the back seat. I was stiff and I was sick, but I finally managed to get myself up and get the car parked properly in the driveway. I went inside, and once again I couldn’t remember anything about the night before. I went to take a shower and when I looked in the mirror, I had a black eye and I was bleeding from two cuts on my lips. There were ugly bruises all over my neck, on my arms and all across my torso. It looked like I’d been beaten half to death. Then I noticed my hands. My knuckles were swollen and cut and caked with dried blood.

“I had no idea what had happened. You know that feeling, right? Yeah, of course you do. It was that horrible hangover sickness, the awful headache, and that lost, paranoid feeling of … oh, shit … what the fuck happened? You know? Was I about to be arrested? Was there someone out there hurt worse than me, someone that I had hurt? Were there people pissed at me all over town who knew all about what awful things I’d done? People that might want to hurt me?

“I stood there for the longest time staring at myself in that cruel mirror, looking at my fucked-up hands, trying desperately to remember
something
, anything from the night before. I was painfully missing my kids, who I’d been banned from seeing at that point, and missing my wife and feeling like a total shit for driving her away … any of this sound familiar? Right? Right? I thought so. And I finally admitted that my life had become unmanageable. That I was finally sick and tired of being sick and tired. And that’s a big moment, right? I mean, that is half of the first step, right there, you know? Then, right away—I swear to god it happened just like this—for the first time in my life I saw that I had no power over my craving for alcohol and it was the alcohol and my own screwed-up decisions that had put me in that truly unmanageable spot. Then, again, I immediately remembered everything I knew about AA, you know from TV, from movies, from some class I’d taken in school, you know, the meetings, the steps, the fellowship, and I got this weird faith, that, oh, man, that is where I belong. I needed to get with those people and if I called up AA and immersed myself in the program and started going to meetings and doing whatever they said, that I wouldn’t need to drink anymore and that my life would get better.

“That’s steps one and two, right? I admitted I was powerless over alcohol and that my life was unmanageable—Step 1. And, I came to believe that a power greater than myself—the AA program and fellowship—could restore me to sanity—Step 2. Boom. Step three happened right away as well. Because, well … now, my wife Martie—sweet, caring, loveable Martie—long before she’d given up on me, she’d gone down to the AA Central office, you know that one over on I Street, upstairs? She’d marched right in there and talked to whatever volunteer was on duty, and demanded that AA fix her husband. I mean, she was married to a miserable low-life drunk and we were always broke and she had kids to raise. She was desperate and embarrassed and humiliated, and she was in the central office of the organization in charge of such people, so, to her, she figured she’d come to the right place to get her shitty life straightened out.

“Now, I’m not sure about all that transpired there, but I’m fairly certain Martie was asked if Paul was onboard with this idea, because they couldn’t make me do anything against my will, right? They must’ve told her that I had to
want
help, and that I had to be
willing
. Well, she knew the answer to that question I imagine, but she went ahead and grabbed all the pamphlets and books she could. She brought home the Big Book, the 12 and 12, Living Sober—all of it. Of course, I never read any of the material and I imagine I acted like a big asshole when she showed it to me. But I knew where it all was and I left the bathroom and that horrible mirror and found the Big Book. I made a pot of coffee and I sat down and started reading. I drank that entire pot as I read the first five chapters. And, let me tell you, I was mesmerized. That’s when I took Step 3, I came to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity. I became convinced that if I gave myself over to this AA thing, that I just might be all right.

“I called up AA, found out that there was a meeting at noon that day, at the Hole-in-the-Wall, less than a mile from my house. I went to the meeting, got a sponsor, and started working the steps and, thanks to all of you wonderful people, I haven’t had to drink since that day and for that I am very, very grateful.

“Of course, I didn’t know what I’d gotten myself into. I believed that if I stopped drinking and became an upstanding AA member, that I’d immediately, you know, get a good job, money in the bank, get a better car, and, of course, my wife and kids would come back to me and life would be beautiful. You know, the old joke about what happens when you play a country song backwards.

“I don’t have to tell you how all that turned out. Ha! So, yes, I did get a job, in fact, I’ve had several jobs since that day—all of them shitty. There’s hardly any money in the bank, but there’s always enough, you know? And I still have that same horrible car that I woke up in that morning. And my wife and kids? Well … uh, no, she’s never coming back, and I’ve made peace with that fact, and my kids, I see them and our relationship is getting … better, all the time, but I caused them a lot of hurt and pain by my behavior and that’s something that will just have to heal in its own time. All I can do is work the steps and be the best person I can be today and deal with what’s really happening.

“You know, the last thing I ever wanted was to live life on life’s terms. Are you kidding? I’ve always preferred my own fantasy version. But, in AA and with the help of all of you, I’m learning to do just that. So, no, life isn’t perfect today, but that’s okay with me, because this program and all of you and my higher power give me all the tools I need to live a sober life one day at a time. And that’s truly a beautiful thing, isn’t it? … Thank you all for listening.”

This was one of Paul’s better pitches and he knew it, he could tell that he’d appeared honest, spiritual, like someone committed to sobriety. People had laughed at the funny parts and seemed moved by the parts he’d hoped were moving. He’d made up most of the details (except for his sobriety date, the frequency of his blackouts, and the part about having an ex-wife named Martie who’d taken their two kids and left him a month before he’d gotten sober), but it was the story he’d been telling at the Hole for three years so he stuck with it.

Afterwards, a lot of people came up and shook his hand, hugged him tight, thanked him for being so honest, wished him a happy birthday. Several new people asked for his number.

He tried to pay attention—he knew that he should be present, especially for the newer members—but all he could think about was that lovely woman with the two kids and whether or not she’d been impressed with his sharing. He kept looking past whoever was talking to him to see where she was. When the last person had walked away and he was convinced she had left, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and it was her.

“So, did you ever find out what happened that night?” she said.

Close up she was even more stunning.

“Yes, yes I did,” Paul said, smiling.

“And…?”

“It’s not very exciting, it’s really kind of stupid. You sure you want to hear it?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She smiled too.

“Maybe you better tell me your name then?”

“I’m Tina,” she said, and reached out her hand.

“I’m Paul.” He took her hand for a quick shake. He had to be careful here. Because of the setting, and because she was most likely reeling from some kind of awful relationship hurt that was still fresh, Paul knew he couldn’t say anything that sounded flirty, or like a come on—even though such things were running through his mind at light speed. If he did, it would come off as creepy and the spell would be broken and he’d lose his chance. He had to act like all he wanted to do was to connect with another human, on a spiritual level, on a program level. A fine line to walk.

“What brings you here, Tina,” he said, “if you don’t mind my asking?”

He walked over to a nearby picnic table and she followed. They sat down facing each other, a safe distance apart. She looked over at her kids, who were playing happily in the bouncy house.

“I just joined Alanon,” she said.

“You have an alcoholic family member?”

“Soon-to-be-ex-husband. Well, three ex-husbands, to be honest.”

“Well, Alanon is a great program.”

“Did your ex-wife join?”

“Martie? Ha! No way. That would require admitting that she was part of the problem, that it wasn’t just me. No, as far as Martie is concerned she has no dysfunctions whatsoever, her only mistake she ever made was in marrying Paul Dunn.”

“How is she doing now?”

“She’s married again, to this guy Frank.”

“And is Frank a drunk?”