Ep. 1

I never really got the point of these sorts of places. Come together, join in with our hands in a pretty little circle to sing a campfire song. Though, I suppose there ain’t no campfire. Nope, just the fluorescent buzz of the stark white walls, contrasting the synthetic vinyl they try to pass off as hardwood these days. At least there could have been beer served. Coors, Miller Light. More of Budweiser, kind of gal. Though, I guess this is the last place that would ever be served.

I suppose that’s the whole point of sobriety now, isn’t it?

If you ask me, I don’t believe I have a drinking problem. Social events, sure. Maybe I have one here or there. But really, it’s nothing which has gotten me into too much trouble. Then again, if you ask my younger brother, he would disagree. A few days ago, I might have had one too many. Let’s just say it was too late to hop out of the ride I was having before those signature flashing red and blue lights came hollering.

Carl, my younger brother, gave me one choice to make. See to it that I take myself and attend one of these fancy gatherings. Or I shall see to letting him take me on a little stroll to the station with cuffs on. We ain’t one of those weird siblings who get a kink out of that sort of play. At least I don’t. So, more or less, here we are.

Fucking family... Am I right?

He is my younger brother and here he was, threatening me. Lock me up and throw away the key. I hope Ma is smiling down from the big ol’ apple in the sky about how well she raised him.

As for me. Well, I hope she’s just smiling.

I love Carl, as any good big sister would. I mean, I helped raise the fellow for a decent part of both our lives. So it is a bit of a shock that he would be so cold towards me when I try to have a bit of fun.

Well, whatever. I am here now. Been here for sometime. It isn’t all bad. There are snacks and punch. It’s sort of like a party. No music, unfortunately, to get your foot a steppin. Just deadpan silence overshadowed by the voices of those who stand to tell the tale of their own fruitless lives. Truth be told, there’s no way in hell I could care less about ‘em.

The effort lies in the attempt to come here. Get them hours and show little bro that I am all better. Maybe that will give him the proof to get off my back. The fact that he called me this morning, threatening to drive me over here himself just to make sure I arrived in the right place. I guess it shows just how dedicated he can be.

What a swell guy, I tell ya. As if I would get lost on the journey. He would be right. As I had no intention of coming here.

Why would I? Why would anyone?

I mean, it’s not like it’s written on each and every face I see around here. Golly, how they glow with such stellar enthusiasm and optimism. Yeah, look at that one. You couldn’t tell how miserable their life was from a cat’s scat, even if you tried. And that one over there—yeeesh. That’s a face only a mother could love. She’s not even bothering to sit up. Bad posture must run in the family.

I wonder how my posture is.

Let’s see... Who else is glowing with such invigorating excitement?

Oh, well, hello there…

Sitting on the far side of the room sat someone with that standard issue man’s spread. You know, the one where they slump down like they were trying to sit on their back. Legs spread wide open as if to guard you from the three point line. Usually the sort of thing that bothers everyone. Especially the ones on either side. So strange, though. Usually it pisses me off, but him. He sort of got this cool charm to it.

He is easy on the eyes. Looks to be around my age, too. He’s got that Austin Butler Elvis look to him. Sporting that leather jacket with a white-tee too. The look where everything fit loose and snug at the same time. Even his hair was slick with a shine, but not too greasy.

I wouldn’t mind running my fingers through it.

For sure, he looks like a good time. A bad boy, blown in from who knows where. I bet he even owns a bike, too.

“Would you like to give it a shot..?”

“…Bob,” He answers with a slight crook in his jaw. “Just Bob. That’s what they call me.”

The way he delivered such a response to The Chair left me chuckling under my breath. It was definitely louder than I would like. The room made it clear given side eyes shooting in my direction. But can you blame me? No one nowadays is just called ‘Bob’. It’s gotta be short for Robert, right?

Right?!

“Sorry, did you say Bob?” questioned The Chair. A right, snobbish fellow, if you ask me. Patrick is his name, and he loves to talk at great lengths with his UK accent. If the land was so perfect, why travel to such a small little place like this?

“I can’t say I have seen you around here before, Bob…” Patrick stopped himself for a moment before pivoting his words. “I think I would recognize such a handsome young man in this town. Tell me, is it just Bob?”

“It is,” he answered flatly. “And yeah, you wouldn’t recognize me. I guess... you can say I’m new in town.”

“Oh, that’s no trouble. We welcome everyone, no matter where they’re from. No need to feel pressured by labels. People are people at the end of the day, after all.”

Oh god.

Look, I get it. I do. But come off it. Everyone’s all about that P.C. stuff nowadays. It is genuinely infuriating. Because of it, I feel like I am two decades too shy of when I was to be put on this God green earth. I heard the eighties were an insane time to be alive. If I had been an adult then, even a teenager—God. The sex, the parties. Late night drive-ins. Or are those the 70s? Maybe it’s those hippies that got me screwing up my decades?

Hmm, whatever. Point is I was never did I have a passion for history class. All I know is that I am thinking of the past’s glitzy glamour that enthralls. Frank Sinatra, Gangsters. Oh my, what a time it must have been.

Now all we got are pansies pushing daisies.

“So tell us a little about yourself, Bob. You don’t have to, but opening up helps us as well as you with the process.”

“Yeah, no problem. So, uh. I haven’t been here long. New in town, as I mentioned. Been moving from place to place for a while now...”

Oh, so he’s a drifter. Check that one off for the mysterious bad boy type.

“... been tough getting used to things around here. An adjustment period, as you say. Uhh-umm, been told that I may have a bit of a problem. So, as curious as I am, I looked up ways to figure myself out and my place here. And when I did, I found this. Not sure what happens next, but I would like to observe and see where it takes me.”

“What an interesting way to put things,” Patrick spoke, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, we... start by opening our hearts and minds to anything. Really being accepting so folks can be comfortable here. Each of us has our own story to tell. And, well, we can only tell it from our perspectives. So it is good to hear that you have the introspective to view and acknowledge the source of your being here. For me, I started denying why I was here for a long time. But once I listened. Not just hear those around me, but actually listen. I finally realized that I indeed had a problem. And that at the same time, I was also the solution.”

What in the gibberish is coming out of this man’s mouth. If anything, I know more than ever that I am in the wrong place. The only salvation of being here is that there is one pretty guy that is just my type to look at. So thanks Carl. Thanks a lot for sending me here and wasting my time with the philosophical bull. Honestly, I might have taken my chances in jail if this is the sort of people I have to deal with.

“Alright, who’s next?” Patrick questioned with a somewhat bright and cheery smile. He tapped his fingers playfully along his lips as he spun in his chair. He made sure his butt did not rise as he scoped out his next target to call on. I soon found his gaze locking with mine from beneath his oversized frames that looked to fall from his face at any moment.

“Keep pushing, chief.”

“Come oooon! At least introduce yourself.”

What is with that voice of his? Why is he talking to me like I am a child? And that pouting... Ughhh, gross.

“I’m good,” I replied.

“We’re all good, until we’re not,” he quipped back with a smile.

“Oh, for Christ...” I really walked into that one, didn’t I?

“I insist,” he continued. “I heard a lot about you.”

“Well, I resist.”

He stared at me long and hard for a moment. It was the sort of gaze you find from those who saw the front yard of their newly renovated homes. The anticipation and excitement building within them as the gears turned on curiosity for the surprise awaiting on the inside.

“Alright, fine,” I sighed. “Hi. My name is Jessie. And I was brought here against my will.”

A strange silence eerily bothered me followed. Maybe it was because of all the eyes. Or maybe it was the subtle lingering knowing that they were all judging me because my joke didn’t stick. I presume the wrong crowd.

“Hello Jessie. I am getting a confrontational wall sort of vibes from you. Your arms, your legs. It’s clear you don’t aspire to be here, and that’s fine. But as the responsible party to make sure this is a safe space, I have to ask, why are you here?”

“Well, that is just a stupid question, now isn’t it? Didn’t ya hear me?”

“But that’s not entirely true, now is it? The door is right there. No one tied you to the chair. Soooo, why are you here?”

Is this guy for real? What sort of therapist book did he read to make him think he was a right proper shrink to question me like this? Clearly, he can’t hear me well at all. I don’t want to be here, I only came because of...

“My brother. My little brother.”

“Go on...”

I sucked my teeth. Something must have been added to the punch. “Look. Let me be frank with you, yeah. We never knew our old man well cause he ran out on our Ma, and she isn’t around anymore. So, he’s all got. I am here because he didn’t really leave me with a choice. There you got your answer. Happy?”

“He sounds like he cares.”

“Tsk.”