REMI CASTILLO | @remicastillo
This was stressful, to put it plainly. Going to an AA meeting was something Andy thought he’d never be able to do -- Instead, he anticipated holding the handlebars of his motorcycle until his knuckles were white and muscles cramped before eventually heading home. Though it didn’t play out exactly like that, Andy still spent a good twenty minutes staring at the front doors of the community center, chain smoking until he grumbled Quit being a fucking coward and forced one foot in front of the other. Calling himself an alcoholic wasn’t something he’d fully come to accept -- The word still formed as a lump in his throat, never quite passing his lips. He felt like he had this under control, able to curb whatever issues he held with keeping himself focused on anything else. But, Adrian seemed to believe in it -- So he figured it was worth a shot. Once, at least.
He strikes up the nerve to walk into the meeting -- Late, thanks to his own cowardice -- and sneaks a chair in the back row. Leaning back into the chair, he crosses his arms and listens as people share their stories, doing better than he expected before a far too familiar face goes to the podium. I’m Remi Castillo, and I’m an alcoholic. Eyes go wide as she speaks, her words sounding muffled over the ringing in his ears. It was naive to think he wouldn’t run into someone he knows here -- But Andy thought he’d picked the perfect time, where he wouldn’t run into any friends or club members, and that his struggles with sobriety would still remain on the down low. It’s not like he and Remi were really friends -- But she was certainly not someone he wanted seeing this part of himself. At the first chance he got once the meeting adjourned, Andy’s on his feet, heading for the door so that he doesn’t get stuck in the inevitable conversation that’s bound to happen if he sticks around.
