Bernthout

Jon’s apartment complex is nice, very few, but expensive cars in the parking lot. I barely get out of the car before he’s already at my car door with that soft smile and the to-go box of our cheesecake.

“Ready?” He has his free hand out for me to grab.

“Ready.”

The walk to his apartment was short, he’s only a few doors down from the entrance. He opens his door and the smell of leather, sandalwood, and maybe cleaning products all hit me at once. His apartment fits him perfectly; a loft apartment, the bed on the upper level with ash gray bedding, very minimalistic kitchen right under the loft, wooden kitchen island with two stools, and a brown somewhat torn couch. The apartment has an industrial vibe to it, one wall is just brick while everything else is either wood or metal.

“It’s not much, but it’s enough.” He says it with a humble smile while putting the to-go box on the island.

“It looks like a lot to me. It’s really nice.”

We both take a seat at the island, Jon’s legs are facing me and open as I keep my legs together, perfectly in between his. He just looks at me for a second, his eyes soft as always.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what's that tattoo mean?”

“This one?” I ask as I extend my arm. I have a ‘F.A.M.E.’ tattoo on my inner elbow.

“Yea, that one.” He tentatively reaches his hand out, his thumb gently caressing the tattoo.

I smile, “Forgiving all my enemies.”

“Do you? Forgive all your enemies?”

“It’s there for more of a reminder and less of a statement, but I try. I definitely do try.” I look at his hand on my arm, then at him. My heart is so heavy with the truth, I have to tell him. “I have to tell you something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

I refuse to look at him now, I’m looking at the floor, out the window, at my arm, everything but him as I speak softly. “I, uh. I’m.. not an alcoholic. I never have been, hell, I’ve never even drank alcohol.”

“You’re joking?” His eyebrows are furrowed, his hand is slowly falling from my arm.

“No, I’m serious. I made a promise to myself at 13 to never drink.”

“So.. Why the hell were you at the meetings? For fun? To get off on peoples fucked up lives?” He’s upset now, understandably so. His hand has fully retreated from my arm, he’s looking around in anger while trying to make sense of my deceit.

I can feel my eyes starting to sting. “No.” I sigh.” To save you a sob story, my mom was an alcoholic and it.. made life harder for me in a way. I didn’t drink on my 21st birthday just like I said I wouldn’t but that didn’t bring me the closure I thought it would. Nothing has. So I thought going to the AA meetings would, I thought they’d help me understand her better.”

“So that bullshit that I should tell my ex-wife that I'm not drinking anymore is because that's what you wish your mommy would do?” His voice is condescending, mean, and angry as he stands up, looking down at me.

I look up at him, my eyes red, and the hurt from his words visible on my face. He takes a deep breath, runs a hand over his face, walks toward the counter where he leans forward, his back turned on me.

“I know I should’ve told you earlier, I’m sorry. I just didn’t see a reason, I guess. I don’t know, I felt bad about it by the second meeting. I asked Dan and he said it was okay.”

“And Dan’s opinion really matters here because you’re at his apartment after going on a date with him.”

I just sigh, he’s right.

“Let me tell you something,” Jon turns around to look at me, his arms crossed over his chest. “That night you said you weren’t in your mind? I thought you relapsed, I thought this girl that stood out to me, that I felt this sudden attraction to and interest in was letting me in.” He drops his arms to his side “Look, I get we haven’t known each other for long, but when I told you I never loved my wife, you didn't think that was a good enough time?” He scoffs and sighs, shaking his head. “I told my story to everyone at the AA meetings, yeah, but because that's the only place I won’t be judged for having a problem. You invaded that. I thought whatever story you had was so fucked up you were ashamed to tell anyone. No, you just didn’t have one. You were using the vulnerability of everyone in there to fix yourself and that's selfish. Therapy is for when you need closure, not a sacred place for other people to finally tell their stories.”

A few tears have rolled down my face and I’m biting the inside of my cheek as I look at him, trying so hard not to just shut down and leave.

“I didn’t know you thought I relapsed. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, you’re right and I’m sorry. I didn’t think when I went to the meetings that I’d find someone that I liked so all the plans I had went out the window and I had no clue what to do by then. I was worried that had I told you earlier on this wouldn’t have gone any further.”

Jon mumbles “damn right” under his breath. That was all I needed for me to not talk anymore. There's an uncomfortable silence.

Jon nods his head toward the untouched to-go box. “After you finish that you can leave.”

“I don’t want that. It’s all yours.” I stand up and wipe my face, I still haven’t looked him in the face since I decided to tell him.

The walk to the car was just me crushing my bottom lip between my teeth, refusing to cry. I pull out of his parking lot so quick, just wanting to go home. I speed home, no music on but I barely noticed. My thoughts were a lot louder than any song I could play right now. All I can think about is my need for closure and to understand my mother, I’m trying to find that everywhere but her.

Back home I skip a lot of my routine and just get in bed, no drawn out showers, no scandal, no diet coke. I open my texts with Tila.

Kayla: I told him.

Tila: How’d it go?

Kayla: He’s so mad at me. It was bad.

Tila: I’m sorry. You okay?

Kayla: I’ll be fine. I barely knew him anyway. Better to end it earlier on I guess.

Kayla: Bring mom to the next dinner.

Tila: What??? Why?

Not much longer after she sent the text she started calling me.

“Why do you want her at the dinner?”

“Because I’ve tried everything but talking to her. I haven’t had a true, meaningful conversation with our mother since I was 14 and right now, I just need to understand. You said she isn't drinking anymore, so I don’t see much of a problem.”

“I don’t think you’re hearing yourself right now. And when I said she wasn’t drinking I meant more of a, she isn’t getting drunk drunk.”

The next morning I go to work late, type up the briefed project my boss gave me that’s due next week, all while on cloud nine. Checking my phone every few minutes finally paid off when I saw his text finally light up my screen.

Jon: Hey sweetheart. I’m so sorry but the diner closes early tonight, at 8. Could I take you somewhere else?

Kayla: That’s okay. We can go wherever, just send me the location.

The rest of the day is a blur until I’m finally back home, getting ready for this date. Jon sent me the location to a jazz bar that’s right outside of the city. I wear an open back short brown dress, black open toed heels with gold accents, my tan and black shoulder purse, gold bracelet and necklace, and my hair in a perfectly messy bun.

The way my curls pool out of the hair tie, some pieces framing my face make me feel the prettier than I have in a long time. I actually smile in the mirror and do a little giddy dance while applying my lip liner and gloss.

Jon: I’m on the way. See you soon!

The nerves weren’t there until his name was on my phone, now there’s butterflies in my stomach, I’m over thinking every little thing about the outfit, the curls don’t look as put together as they did two seconds ago, my lip liner is now smudged in my cupids bow, I feel over dressed, and I have to tell him the truth tonight.

I tried taking a break from looking in the mirror, closing my eyes and breathing for 20 seconds, listening to my music, telling myself I’m just in my head, and nothing worked. I had to go to the last resort, FaceTime Tila.

“Hello?”

“I’m stressed out, I don’t feel pretty anymore, I’m about to cry, we’re going on a date. Help me.” The words fall out faster than she can probably register.

“Let me see.”

I prop my phone up and awkwardly stand there, trying not to look at myself in the camera.

“You look very beautiful, your hair looks nice, your outfit is very pretty.” She lets her words sink in for a second. “Where are you guys going?”

“The jazz bar.” I pick the phone up and carry it with me as I collect my things to leave.

“A jazz bar? Isn’t he an alcoholic?”

I let out a small laugh. “Was. We were supposed to go to the diner but they close early tonight, so” I do my little shoulder shrug along with a smile as I leave my apartment. “He sent the location for the jazz bar, I think it’s fancy.”

“Well, have fun. Tell me about it at our dinner next week.”

“I will.” I say softly as we hang up the phone.

The drive to the jazz bar was filled with mild anxiety, slow RnB, and me occasionally giggling when I think about how tonight will go. Finally, I pull up to the jazz bar and park way in the back so I have time to make sure I’m not walking like a baby deer before I see him.

My practice walk didn’t do me much justice when I see him standing outside wearing a brown suit. His hair is actually done, nicely lined up, and seemingly gelled upward. His eyes land on me.

“Kay, wow, you look great.” Jon shamelessly looks me up and down with a little smirk.

I have to look away for a second while smiling bigger than my cheeks can handle. “Thank you, so do you.”

Jon opens the door for me, guiding me into the jazz bar with his hand very lightly on the small of my back. He tells the hostess we’d like a booth closer to the back, she scribbles onto the seating map before leading us to our table. That’s when Jon looks back and holds his hand out for me to grab as he walks in front of me.

We’re seated in a cozy corner booth where Jon and I sit in the middle to see the musicians, and maybe just so we can be closer to each other.

“This place is really nice. I’ve never been here before.”

“Me either, but I figured it’d fit you better than an old, busted up diner.” He looks at me with such soft eyes and the same little smirk every time.

I tilt my head and smile a little as I look at him. “The diner isn’t closing early tonight is it?”

Jon laughs and shakes his head. “No ma’am. I wanted to actually take you out.” He turns toward me so we’re looking eye to eye. “Maybe this’ll help you open up a bit more.”

I look down at my purse in my hand, my thumb absentmindedly rubbing the fabric as I take a deep breath. “Look, Jon, if this is about why I go to AA meetings,” Before I can finish my sentence Jon holds a hand up and shakes his head.

“You don’t have to tell me now, I realized I was being a bit.. pushy. That’s a sensitive subject and I’ll let you tell me when you’re ready. Let’s just have a good date.” He smiles softly, but it does nothing to help the guilt that feels like it’s wrapping around my throat, suffocating me.

I softly nod and force a smile, I’m too far into this.

We order little appetizers, I get a lemonade that comes in a pretty martini glass, Jon ordered a water. We snack, talk, laugh, or just watch the musicians play. Eventually the musicians play “For All we know” by Donny Hathaway. I react before I realize it.

I gasp, a huge smile on my face, my eyes big and lit up, and hand finds Jon’s leg. “Oh my goodness! I love this song!”

“I can tell.” He lowly chuckles and looks at me with a smirk, his eyes quickly glancing to my hand just barely touching his leg. “You don’t think this songs a bit sad?”

“A little if you look at it like it’s sad, but I don’t I think it’s beautiful. I love it.” I’m grinning from ear to ear, my eyes big and just watching the musicians play.

Jon laughs a little and shakes his head. Just as I start to move my hand off of his leg Jon gently wraps his bigger hand around mine, holding it in place against his leg. I look down at our hands before meeting his eyes, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it. His thumb makes little circles on the back of my hand as we sit there and listen while the song plays.

We ordered desert but by the time it came out both of us were a little too full to eat it, so Jon asks for a to-go box and the check.

“What’re you doing after this?” Jon asks as he puts the cheesecake in the box.

“Nothing, unless you had an idea?”

Jon nods. “I do, but I don’t want you to think I have different intentions.”

I look at him with a furrowed eyebrow.

“Would you like to come back to my place, just a little night cap kind of thing? Nothing more.”

I nod slowly, trying to weigh my options, Jon has been nothing but transparent and true to his word, when I’ve been the complete opposite.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Jon stands up from the booth and holds his hand out for me to hold while the other carries the box. We walk hand and hand to my car, he occasionally looked down at me or squeezed my hand a little. He lets go of my hand to sling one arm around my shoulders, pulling me in just a bit while tilting his head to lean on mine.

“Should I send you my address or do you want to follow me?”

“You should probably send it to me so I don’t get lost.” I say in a softer tone than I knew my voice could go.

“Alright. My place is only 10 minutes away.” He brushes his hand against my arm before letting it fall. We stand there looking at each other for a second before he looks away, smirks, shakes his head, and tells me he’ll send the address. “See you in a bit, Kay.”

Jon isn’t much of a texter, we’ve texted here and there, good mornings, little check ins, Jon mentioning the diner a few times. Nothing much at all but more than I’ve had in years.

I’m having dinner with Tila when I get a text from Jon.

Jon: Hey, I’m not too sure I’ll be at tomorrow’s meeting. I still want to take you out though?

Just seeing his name on my phone is enough to make me smile, which is obviously something Tila notices.

“Boyfriend?” She asks with a smirk.

“No, I told you his name is Jon. But yes, Jon texted me.” I can’t hold back the big stupid grin on my face.

“Awe, he asked for your number?”

“Only after I told him to. He wants to take me out to this diner just to ‘hear my story’.” I use air quotes as I say that last part.

“You still haven’t told him?” Tila’s eyebrows go up just a bit.

“No? I mean, I talked to the meeting leader, he said it’s okay that I’m there. I was planning on telling Jon later on.”

“You’re digging yourself deeper in an unnecessary hole, Kayla. If you actually like this guy, and it sounds like he likes you, it’s going to be ruined before it starts. You know his whole story and he doesn’t even know you’ve never tasted alcohol? You literally swore as a 13 year old to never drink.”

“Stop. I know it’s bad, I didn’t think he’d be this pressed about it, at all. I just thought he was asking so much at first to flirt. But he asked me to go out to the diner and I realized he’s deadass. Had I known he was this serious the whole time maybe I would’ve said something.”

“No you wouldn’t have. You knew he was serious because you sat at my house smiling from ear to ear worried about going to the next meeting. You’re stringing him along so it’ll be too late for him to pull back when he finds out. That’s fucked.”

I humorlessly chuckle and furrow my eyebrows. “Thats fucked? Tila, I swear you don’t want to start with me about anything that has to do with morality.”

“You’re how old? Still talking about shit from when you were 13?” Now Tila’s mad, her eyebrows furrowed too as she leans forward. “Matter of fact, you do need meetings, you are an addict. You want to be a victim so bad. We all lived in that house, remember? It wasn’t just you who had to deal with her drunk. I had to watch mom go from the best mother in the world to a raging alcoholic.”

At this point we’re both raising our voices. I stand up from the table and start pacing in little circles before I lose every little bit of my mind. “Tila, you got the world’s best mother. You were 13 with a mom who taught you how to shave, she did your hair for you, she was there, she loved you. I was 13 years old and trying to remember which days were with dad and which were with mom. Teaching myself how to do my hair because at that point it was ‘too black’ for mom, watching YouTube videos on shit my mother should’ve taught me. And please, let’s not forget who went drinking with her, who never stepped in to help. I was all alone! No, I’m not getting over this shit! Where were you when mom left me home alone with no food? When I was so, so obviously struggling? When I got so skinny my ribs were showing? No where! You and everybody else turned a blind eye.” My eyes start stinging and I look away for a second, taking a breath. “You were the only one I forgave in that whole family, do not act like I don’t have a reason to drive myself crazy trying to figure out why everyone else is deserving of love while I sit here at 21 wondering when it’ll be my turn.”

“You just provoke people.” Tila stands up now, looking down at me like she’s disappointed. “I never provoked mom. And I still don’t, that’s why me and her hang out every week where she’s not drinking. She stopped 2 years ago.”

It feels like all the breath in my lungs got sucked out, tears are flowing free down my face now as I look up at her with so much hurt. “And you weren’t going to tell me?”

“Why? So you can drive her to drink again? You know just as much as everyone else that had you gone upstairs when she got home, just shut up and let words be words, y’all’s relationship would be the same as me and hers.”

I look down, wiping my eyes. “You can go sit up under her ass if you’d like.” I nod as I look up at her. “But I’m never going to apologize for standing up for myself, my father, and the shit I believe in. Even at 13 I’ve had more awareness and self respect than you and her, combined.”

Tila sighs and starts grabbing her things. “I’m going to head out. I guess I’ll figure out if we’re okay or not depending on if my text goes through.”

I stare at the door for a few minutes after she leaves, my head slightly pounding and my eyes red rimmed. I start cleaning up dinner slowly and dissociate until it’s done. My body on autopilot as I go through the motions of doing dishes, tidying up the living room and dinner table, and gone into the bathroom to take a shower.

By the time I come back to reality I’m in bed zoned out staring at the text thread between me and Jon.

Kayla: Sorry for the late response. I don’t think I’ll go to the meeting tomorrow either.

Jon: You don’t have to apologize, it’s fine. So is that a yes or no on us going out tomorrow? Lol.

Kayla: Honestly I don’t know. I appreciate you but I’m not in my mind right now, I don’t want to give you an answer and feel something different tomorrow.

Jon: You okay? What do you mean you’re not in your mind? What’s the matter?

What’re you doing right now? Wanna just meet up and talk for a little?

Kayla: Everything’s okay, thank you. I just had a little argument with my sister and I just feel out of it.

Jon: I promise I won’t ask about your story if you want someone to talk to right now. We can just meet up and talk if you want.

Kayla: You’re really sweet, I’d like that.

I barely get ready; sweatpants, messy bun, tank top, a zip up black jacket, and my brown slides. Jon sent me the location to a park that’s only 10 minutes from my house. I don’t let myself do too much thinking, just put my pepper spray in my purse and walk out the door. The drive was very quiet, I had my shower playlist, which consists of jazz music and slow RnB, on a very low volume so I could still hear the sounds of my tires against the road, the occasional bump, and whatever animals were out in the grass.

Once I pull up I see his big truck isolated in the dark parking lot, he’s already outside of his car leaning on the truck bed watching as I pull in. He doesn’t even let me turn the car off before he’s walking to the car, reaching for the door handle to open it for me.

“I didn’t realize how dangerous this could be until I got here.” I say half playfully despite not being able to even fake a smile.

“We don’t have to walk anywhere if you’re not comfortable. Or we could go somewhere else.” He says it softly as he tilts his head and has one arm on the top of my door, slightly in my space but not too much.

“No it’s okay. I was just joking.”

Jon can’t stop himself from letting out a small chuckle at the melancholy tone of voice trying to make a joke. “Wanna walk or just sit on my truck bed? Up to you.” He nods his head in the direction of his truck before looking back at me with the softest eyes and smile.

I shrug. “We can walk for a little.”

Jon holds his hand for me to grab as I get out of the car, he shuts my door for me, and makes a point to walk on the outside so I’m not near the street.

“So.. what’d you mean you weren’t in your mind?”

“Me and my sister got in an argument, I haven’t gotten that.. fired up in so long I just kind of disconnected once she left and now I feel out of it. I don’t know how to explain it well.”

“No, I get it.” He lets there be a moment of silence which he might see as comfortable but for me it’s suffocating. “What was the argument about? If you want to talk about that.”

“Our mom. Me and my mom didn’t have a good relationship so I moved out at 18 and haven’t spoken to her.”

“When was the last time you talked to her? Your mom.”

“Been about 4 years now, but I see my sister once a week and she’s always found a way to bring our mom up.“ I shake my head and fidget with the zipper on my jacket. “Anyway, it doesn’t really matter, it was a small argument. Probably just pent up aggression or something.”

“It does matter, but we don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.” Jon has his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his elbow grazing my arm every so often.

“I don’t.” I say it softly so it doesn’t seem like I’m rejecting him again, but I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, it’s so unimportant. I clear my throat. “So, why aren’t you going to the meeting tomorrow?”

Jon just stares ahead for a second before looking down at me with a conflicted look on his face. “Can I tell you something?”

I look up at him and nod.

“I’m not sure I was ever in love with my wife.”

“…What?”

“I think I convinced myself I was because obviously I had to, but I’m not sure I was ever really in love with her.”

“That’s why you don’t want to go to the meeting tomorrow?”

“Partially. I’ve been going to the meetings for a while and now it feels like an old chapter of my life. I don’t want to be the guy who goes to AA meetings anymore. I’m ready to move on, y’know? Recently I’ve just been thinking about the marriage. I definitely had love for her, I don’t know about in love, though. I feel like that’s what made me turn to alcohol. Living this fake life, always having to act. Sucks to say it but we weren’t made for each other.”

“I’m sorry. I know that was probably tough.” I’m looking down at my feet as we walk, being openly empathetic is cringy to me I don’t know how to be compassionate without sounding like someone’s forcing me to.

Jon lets out a laugh. “You are really easy to talk to, you know that?”

I shake my head and laugh a little. “Why? Because I never have anything to say?”

“Exactly that.”

“Well can I ask why’d you even marry her then?”

Jon lets there be another beat of silence as he thinks on his answer. “I don’t think I have an answer for that, honestly I don’t remember it that well. I just know I had a feeling for her that was strong and adjacent to love, but looking back, I don’t think it was.”

“Why do you think it wasn’t, though? You don’t think you could’ve fallen out of love?”

“I could’ve, yeah. That definitely is a possibility. All I know is drunk me had very strong feelings for her, sober me? Not so much.”

“That’s really sad. How’d she take everything? Like to see you sober now and better now that she’s gone?”

Jon shrugs. “I’m not sure, we don’t talk anymore. The day I got my stuff out the house was the last time we talked. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel guilty, to know I essentially ruined someone’s look on love and relationships. I’d never tell her I sobered up though, I feel like that’d make her think it was all her fault.”

“Maybe not. Maybe she’d think you learned.” I say quickly as I look up at him. I’d definitely know about this aspect of alcoholism better than him.

“You think so?”

“I do, but I could be wrong. Who knows.”

We walk and talk about things that don’t matter but fill the silence for the rest of the way back to the parking lot. His hand finds my shoulder as we get closer to my car.

“Feel a little bit better?”

“Yea, this was nice..” I say softly as I turn to look at him while leaning against my car.

“It was. But I never got my answer on if I could take you out tomorrow or not?” Jon lets his hand fall to his side as he tilts his head.

I look away and smile hard. “Let’s go with… yes.”

Jon chuckles before opening my door for me. “I like that answer. I can send you the address for the diner. Unless you want me to pick you up?”

“No it’s fine, I can drive.” I do that damn shoulder shrug as I climb in the car.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then. 7 sound good?”

“7 sounds great.”

Jon walks to his car, shaking his head and laughing under his breath before tapping my car twice. “Night Kay.”

The week leading up to the next meeting I feel like shit. Everyone in there found an out, a way to not be looked at as addicts, and here I come with childhood trauma only there hoping for closure from strangers.

It's my turn to go to Tila's house for dinner this week.

"So.. how'd the meeting go? Find what you were looking for?"

"I dunno. But the next meeting is tomorrow, I'm not sure if I'm going."

"Is it too much for you?"

"Not at all actually. I just feel bad. Everyone's there to relate to each other and I'm only there because of mom."

Tila is silent for a second. I know she wants to say something about how I'm bitter, I need to let things go, move on, forgive mom. But she doesn't, instead she talks to me in the softest voice I've heard from her in a while.

"But did it help? To hear similar stories but on the opposite end? To know.. or to understand better, what it's like struggling while simultaneously ruining everything?"

I slowly nod, a faint smile on my face. "Yeah, it did. There was this one story, this guy. He didn't really start drinking until he got married. He had the perfect life and let alcohol take it away from him. He said he's back on his feet now, happy."

"How'd that make you feel? To know someone can ruin something and find happiness after something, or someone, is destroyed?"

"Y'know, I did not think about it like that. And I actually don't want to." I do a little head tilt and shrug as I take a bite of the pasta she made.

"He must've been cute then. For you to not psyche analyze someone, especially an alcoholic, means this guys gotta be something dangerous." Tila shakes her head, smirks, and adjusts herself in her seat a little. The serious conversation turned a little more playful.

I let out a bashful chuckle as I put my fork down. "He's not bad. Little bit on the older side but, I think it kind of adds to his allure. I dunno, he really wants me at this next meeting but after hearing everyone's story I'll just feel like a fraud."

"To be fair, you are a fraud in that setting. But" Tila looks at me. "Maybe try talking to the person who leads these meetings? Ask them if it's okay. Or you could ask your new boyfriend. Whichever one."

"How about we stick with his name? Jon." I make half a duck face and half a smile. "He kept saying he was really interested in my story."

"You should tell him. I think you're being too hard on yourself." Tila gets up to do the dishes. "I think if you explain why you're there they'd understand and you wouldn't feel so guilty. Just a thought."

"I'll think on it, I just don't want people trusting me just for their perception of me to be a lie."

I didn't stay at Tila's house for very long, we just ate dinner and talked a little. My mind was so wrapped up on tomorrow's meeting, I was just ready for the night to end so I could make a final decision. 

Back at my house I do my night routine of a too long shower, Diet Coke, and 2 episodes of scandal right before I go to sleep. All I can think about while watching scandal is the story of a young, successful, black woman intertwined with an older white man.

After an hour and twenty minutes of watching Fitz and Olivia prance around and in each other, I begin to drift off into sleep. Just then I make up my mind, I'm going to the meeting tomorrow. I'll tell the meeting leader that I'm not an alcoholic, and maybe Jon later on. Not right now, he can pull away too easily after just meeting each other.

Getting ready for work I wear an outfit that's more for the meeting opposed to my 9-5. I still look professional, I just look more comfortable today: I have my hair slicked in a bun, a few loose strands, black high waisted and flared work pants, a sweater that's bordering on unprofessional that has big sleeves, black purse, and black heels.

I clock in, say my curt hellos, type up words for an article no one is going to read, and call it a day. The second the clock hits 5pm, I'm already in my car preparing myself for tonight's meeting. The 25 minute drive was nothing but anxiety and a weird, almost sad, sense of hope. A hope that I'm not just delusional and deprived of male attention. Hope that Jon would be there, we'd talk more than last time, maybe he'd hit on me today.

I arrive at the meeting 10 minutes before it actually starts, though there are some early people beginning to walk in and get their coffee and donuts. I quickly find the meetings leader.

"Hi, sorry. I'm Kayla, I was the new girl last time." I offer a semi awkward smile and my hand for him to shake.

"I remember you, I'm Dan. Did you want to share your story today?" Dan shakes my hand with a warm smile and that same soft tone he used last week as he stands up from his chair.

"Technically.. yes. But not with everyone. If you don't mind I'd like to just talk to you in private for a second?"

Dan has a confused look on his face, understandably so, but he tries to quickly mask it with that soft smile. "No problem, we can go over here." He leads me to a semi private corner.  "What's up?"

"So... I actually.. don't have an addiction. Of any sort. But, my mother did and years keep going by and I still feel the same.. bitterness." I sigh and slightly roll my eyes. "I'm very bitter and I just want to understand. To hear the other side of the story, if that makes sense. But after last week, I don't want to ruin a safe space, so I wanted to ask if it was okay that I'm here."

Dan nods as he leans against the wall, a contemplative look as he bites the inside of his cheek. "It makes sense. I personally don't have an issue with it, your life was turned upside just as much as everyone else's. I will say, some people here may not be the biggest fan of that though, they might feel exploited. We can keep this between us if you'd like."

"I would love that." I say with a soft exhale and a big, authentic smile.

"Just don't be one of those inside sources for an article." He says it playfully, but he might just kick me out if he knew what I do for work.

I fake a laugh, my eyes big as I nod. "Funny guy you are. I'm gunna, go take a seat." I point to a seat in the back as I turn around and walk to it. My heart was already beating against my ribcage, but then I saw him, and my heart went to my ass. I quickly sat down and tried to look everywhere but the door he just walked through.

I played this scenario out in my head so many times, even in the shower. I'd smile at him, obviously check him out, or even go up to him. But he's not wearing what I'd imagined, he's not even wearing a flashy outfit. Just a dark grey shirt that hugs his muscles perfectly and dark blue jeans.

"Hey, Kayla!"

I turn my head around looking up to see him standing right behind my chair. Feigning surprise I smile up at him. "Jon, hello! Hi, how are you?"

He smiles as he takes the seat next to me. "I'm doing alright. Guess you'll hear all about it in a few minutes, huh?" He looks down for a second, obnoxiously (but attractively) manspreading. "Do we get to hear your story today?"

"Nope." I smile big as I do that stupid shrug quirk. "I talked to Dan, I don't have to!"

Jon laughs a little as he looks toward Dan, he looks back at me with a small smile. "Yeah? We'll see if I can change that."

I just smile and laugh a little, I have absolutely nothing to say to that.

The meeting starts, a few people go before Jon does this time. But finally, he stands up and this time he looks back at me with a smile before reaching the podium.

"My names Jon."

"Hi, Jon."

"I've been sober for 125 days after my wife left me, but I'm back on my feet now. I went out with a few buddies of mine this week. They all had a few beers, some had whisky. It took every ounce of my self control to not get one too. This was the first time I've truly struggled with wanting a drink since I've been sober. Seeing that buzz hit them reminded me of when I would have a few drinks after work. All I wanted was to feel that burn down my throat like I had 126 days ago. But I remembered these meetings, everyone's support, and the people I've met since I've been here. Thankfully that was enough to pull me out of the temptation. I just worry next time that won't be enough." He takes a deep breath and locks eyes with me. "Anyway, I've had a hard couple of days since I went out with them. Just missing the burn, the buzz, hell, even the headache the next morning. It was intoxicating, everything about drinking. Knowing I shouldn't, knowing it was a choice I had the option to chose everyday, and of course the feeling altogether. But I've changed now, I'm a different man, a man of my word. And today.. I'm standing here saying I never want to drink again. Thank you." He taps the podium before walking back to his seat.

My eyes follow him as everyone, including me claps for him. I offer him a kind smile, in which he returns with a nod. The rest of the meeting is different than last weeks, there wasn't many side eyes or smirks exchanged between us. It's obvious he's going through the motions and I just feel like a phony piece of shit.

After the meeting I grab my purse and we stand up at the same time.

Jon looks at me for a second. "Question."

"Answer." I tilt my head as I look up at him.

"Would taking you out be a good enough excuse to hear your story?"

Again, my heart is in my ass. I look down for a second, trying to stop myself from smiling too hard. "Maybe, if I hadn't already eaten." I say as I look back up at him.

He quietly chuckles. "Next week then? It's nothing fancy, just a little diner I like to go to after the meetings."

"Maybe. We'll see." I say it teasingly, playing hard to get to try and hide how nervous I truly am.

"Ah, maybe." He laughs and shakes his head a little. "Let me walk you to your car at least, it's dark."

We leave the building and start walking, sharing small talk during the short time it takes to walk to my car.

"Can I ask why it's a maybe?" He turns his head to the side.

I shrug and look away for a second. "Had you asked for my number maybe it would've been a different answer."

He laughs as he opens my car door for me. "Well then, can I have your number, Kayla?"

I was 11 when my mother called me fat while she was drinking, 13 when my parents divorced, 16 when me and my moms arguments finally calmed down due to me putting up a mental wall, and 18 when I moved out. I know things can always be worse, but sometimes I wish they were. I wish I hadn't grown up in a 2 story suburban home with both parents in the house. I wish I did have the story of never knowing my mother opposed to the lie I choose to tell. To be fair, I never did know her, I know the drunk her. The argumentative her. The sober her I only saw for an hour on the days I chose to come home before 6pm. By the time I was old enough to realize when she wasn't drinking opposed to always thinking she's drunk and ready to argue, our relationship was too strained. I didn't want girl days, to watch a movie, to sit and chat while she cooked, and I didn't want her affection. It repulsed me, actually.

My older sister, Tila, always took mom's side. She's 8 years older than me and got to see my mom before she fell into alcoholism. During the divorce when I'd spend most of my time with dad, Tila would argue with me that "the phone worked both ways" or if I just went to my room when she's having a hard night, things wouldn't be so bad. Tila was 21 during the divorce, she'd drink with my mom and turn around and lie to my face about where mom was while I was hungry and alone. But I'd never been able to hold that over her head, not even the time when she sat and watched as mom threatened to slap me and decided to chase me around the house as I'd looked for my phone to call my father. I'm an extremest, yes, but I'd rather act like my sister had no part in enabling my mom rather than cut off both my mom and my sister.

To be fair, I didn't really cut my mom off. My mom stopped being present during the divorce, I did try to have a relationship with her. I tried talking to her but it never got me anywhere. So once I got my license, I tried my hardest to not come home before 11pm. On the days that I was there, she was drinking. So I gave up, got a job, and moved out as soon as I could. My mom never reached out, I never cared to make an attempt either.

I see my sister once a week, it's been almost 4 years since I've spoken to my mom, and every time I see my sister she manages to bring up our mother.

"You can't carry this bitterness you have toward her your whole life."

"I'm not bitter. I was a hurt and lonely teenage girl who turned into a 21 year old who's repulsed by the thought of alcohol and any belligerent white woman who asks if my hair is real."

"Sounds pretty bitter to me."

"That's because you had the chance to have a mother, Tila." I watch as she puts the cigarette she was smoking out, the contemplative look on her face that always made us look just alike.

"Anyway. I'm shocked you really went through with not drinking on your birthday. I'm proud of the way you stand on your word. Sometimes. When it's not laced with bitterness."

I snicker and shake my head, there's no way of getting through that thick skull that must be a genetic thing. "Thank you. I did find something to do though. A hobby of some sort."

"Yeah? Another one? What is it?"

"I'm going to AA meetings. I really want to understand. What about liquid that burns someone's throat makes them throw away everything? Maybe it'll help with the bitterness." I add the in the bitterness with a smirk, trying to sound playful and teasing.

Tila helps me with the dishes, tries to talk me out of going to the meetings, and takes her leftovers before she leaves. She thinks the meetings will make me close into myself more, seeing just how many people let alcohol rule them will ultimately rule me.

I actually take her words into account as I get ready for bed. What if it does make me angrier than it does bring me closure? My first meeting is tomorrow after work, I guess I'll never know until I try.

Throughout work all I could think about was the meeting. Am I even allowed to attend an addiction group with no addiction? Do I act like I have a problem? Do I use metaphors to make it seem like me driving myself crazy to understand my mom is a real substance issue?

The AA meeting space is just like the ones you see in movies; a corner with coffee and donuts, folding chairs lined along the wall, a wooden podium in the middle of the room, exposed brick on the same wall that has two big windows, and a room full of men with either long beards or long hair. There is one woman beside me, shes blonde and has her hair in a pony tail, she reminds me of my mother.

I take a seat in the back, I always feel out of place everywhere I go. But right here I am a sore fucking thumb. And to make matters worse, the meeting leader notices me.

"I see we have a new person," his voice is soft, the voice of someone you'd expect to lead meetings for addicts. "Would you like to share your story?"

I shake my head, one leg crossed over the other as my hands rest on my knee. I slightly lift one hand while shaking my head, a small smile to seem less stuck up as I am.

"I'll go." A gravelly voice from a few seats away says. I turn my head to see a head full of hair, dark grey jeans, black jacket, and black thick work boots walking toward the podium. He looks like a powerful man, one that'd be mean or abrupt. But he has the sweetest smile and crows feet that crinkle at his eyes as he looks around the room at everyone.

I have to look away for a second, I'm literally at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. This man may be my type all the way down to the boots, but he has the same issue my mom did that rewrote everything I've ever thought about love. Not to mention he's obviously over 40 years old.

"Hi, I'm Jon."

I look around confused and a little embarrassed as the whole room erupts into a greeting to Jon. "Hi Jon."

"I was an alcoholic for 10 years. For all of those ten years I was married.. the more time passes I don't know if I made the vow to the alcohol or to the woman I was with at the altar. I was drunk during sickness and health, for better or worse, and I let it take me from riches to poor."

His words make him so much more attractive, my heart dropping to my ass every time we make eye contact, when he leans over the podium, and especially every time he runs his fingers through his hair.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Y'know, it's like I went backwards. I got married and turned to the alcohol. But when we divorced.. I stopped? My family never really liked her, said she came from a different world and we'd never see eye to eye on things or things wouldn't work out. But I had it all. Big house, beautiful wife, great job, for ten whole years. And just like that" he snaps his fingers. "It was all gone, because I deemed an addiction more important than the woman I chose to marry. She left me not too long ago, it's been a 5 months now. I've gotten back on my feet, but as things go good, that little voice wants some whisky or liquor, so I'm here. To not lose the good I've just found again."

Jon does a humble nod before taping the podium once as he walks toward a seat. The whole room claps for him as the next person finds the courage to stand up. The next person happened to be the person sitting beside me, leaving that seat empty. That is, until Jon sat there.

"You next?"

I look at him and shake my head while smiling. "No, I'm shy." I could tell the truth, that I'm here just to be nosy, but after he just laid his heart on that podium, and now the next person is too, I can't bring myself to tell anyone.

"Ah, that's okay." He clears his throat, "I'd love to know your story though. You seem like you have an interesting one."

"I don't know if I'd call it interesting. Sorry about your wife." I say it with all the empathy I can find, which unfortunately isn't much, but it's better to say it than not at all.

Jon lets out a laugh that sounds like it came out before he meant for it to. "Thanks. All that emotion from you just now means a lot."

The rest of the meeting me and Jon exchanged glances, side eyes to each other when someone makes an unnecessary outburst during someone else's testimony, and have little quiet conversations on the side. After the meeting as I'm standing up and grabbing my purse Jon stands right in front of me.

"Hey, before you go, I never got your name." His hands are tucked into his front pocket.

"It's Kay, short for Kayla."

"I'm sure you heard mine already, but I'm Jon. It's nice to meet you, Kayla."

"It was really nice meeting you too, Jon." I say it with a bigger smile than I want to.

"See you next week? Maybe then you won't be so shy?"

"I don't know yet. We'll have to see about that one."

Me and Jon begin to walk out of the building, enough space between us that it didn't make the conversation more awkward than it already was. As we walk past a big black truck Jon runs his hand along the tailgate.

"This is me."

"I really could've guessed that."

"Yeah?" He lets out a soft laugh as he looks down at his shoes for a second before looking back at me. "Well, I hope to see you again next week. I really am interested in whatever story you have. Have a good night Kayla."

"Night, Jon." I say softly as I slowly walk to my own car.

Hiiiii guys this is my first time writing for other people. Especially my first time on tumblr (I do not understand this app😭😭), please please please lmk your thoughts and how to make this better / ways to improve. Other than that enjoy 🙃

Minds alike explores the romance that can be found between people who have the same story, just a different point of view.

Jon was an alcoholic for 10 years. His alcholism taking a life others would've precived as perfect.

Kayla grew up in a home with an alcoholic mother, her views on alcohol, love, relationships, forgiveness, and vulnerability all tainted. A little after her 21st birthday Kayla begins to attend AA meetings in hopes to let go of the parts of her life that she wasn't able to control.