Liars Anonymous

Pamphlets and books were strewn around with coffee and half-eaten donuts on the table, a clear indicator that the meeting had begun. Everyone shifted their weight in the creaky church chairs, ready to listen the Newcomer’s share.

Christoph paused when it was his turn, taking a second to clear his throat and make eye contact with as many people as he could.

“Hi, my name is Christoph.”

“Hi, Christoph, welcome,” the room murmured.

“Thank you," he tilted his head up as he spoke thoughtfully.

“My father used to drink every night until he couldn’t walk straight anymore… and would be banging into walls and doors at three in the morning. I’d wake up to a loud bang and then some yelling and cussing, which is probably where I got my sailor mouth from,” he grinned, showing off a perfect white smile.

The other members in the room nodded at him, urging him to continue.

“And then when I was twelve, that’s when I started drinking with him.”

There was a gentle group gasp followed by sympathetic sighs, the fuel for Christoph’s share to keep going. He enjoyed himself as he spoke, looking around the room at his audience.

“I’d drink anything I could get my hands on. Beer, whiskey, mom’s cooking chardonnay.”

He ran a hand through his dark hair. He had everyone’s attention. His mind ticked over different possibilities his story could go before crossing his arms and clearing his throat again.

“Eventually it got so bad my parents kicked me out, so I was homeless for a while. My mom couldn’t handle both her husband and son being alcoholics, so she chose him over me. It was hard….”

He took a moment to compose himself as tears threatened to fall from spring-green eyes. An older woman slid a box of tissues to him.

“Thank you,” he took a tissue and dabbed at his eyes. “I bounced around different shelters and programs until I was able to go back to school and get my GED.”

He thought of adding he was a veteran but didn’t want to complicate it too much.

Christoph sighed, “I’ve been back on my feet a few years now but I’m still having all the ‘ism’s.”

He looked around again, getting more nods and relatable smiles. A young girl about his age kept his gaze as he spoke.

She’s really pretty, he thought.

“So, yeah, that’s why I’m here. I guess the stress of work has just been getting to me lately and I’m feeling tempted to walk down that aisle you’re not supposed to walk down. I’m going to the store for a bottle of olive oil, but I’m wanting to walk out with a bottle of wine too,” he chuckled. “I needed to come back to a safe place where I could talk about these things and hopefully gain some new friends. Anyway, thank you for having me and letting me share.”

When he finished, the young girl returned a smile and wrote something on a pamphlet that was being passed around. A few minutes later, the pamphlet landed in front of Christoph with all the members’ names and phone numbers written on the back.

He traced one name and number back to the only girl holding a purple pen. Sarah 909-555-5527. Bingo.

***

The leader closed out the meeting with the Serenity Prayer, one Christoph had been saying to himself since he was a child.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change

The courage to change the things I can

And the wisdom to know the difference

When all the clapping and goodbyes were over, Christoph stayed to look at the provided program literature. There were a lot of books. He considered buying a few to study the disease of alcoholism and its symptoms. One thing he learned throughout his life: you could never know enough about anything.

“Do you see something you like?”

Christoph turned to see Sarah organizing the leftover pamphlets. Everyone else had gone.

 “I do see something I like. Would you be able to help me with that?” He asked playfully.

She put the pamphlets in a box and leaned over him, opening the hardcover of the book he was holding.

“That one is $17.98 with tax,” she said softly, closing the book. “I’m the literature person here, so if you want to purchase anything just let me know and I’m your girl.”

“Ah, I see,” he said.

Christoph locked eyes with Sarah, hoping to make her a little uneasy. She sure was cute, seemed smart, and was probably severely damaged to be here. He liked girls like Sarah.

She took a step back and pulled out another book from the pile, handing it to him.

“This one is really good too, if you’re having trouble staying sober,” she said thoughtfully. “It has sections for you to journal or take notes which is helpful.”

“How do you stay sober?” Christoph asked, wanting to see her bite her lip again.

She laughed, tucking long brown hair behind her ears.

“Um, I read a lot, journal, go to a ton of meetings, meditate, and I have to work out a lot to not get bored or tempted.”

Christoph watched her mannerisms as she spoke, her small hands moving in the air for emphasis. He was tempted, very tempted right now.

“What kind of work outs do you do?”

Sarah gave him a weird look, trying to gauge if he was being sincere or not. It wasn’t unheard-of for men to attend meetings in the hopes of wooing women with addiction problems, but she had also never met anyone who had experienced it firsthand. Christoph was handsome but something in his green eyes told her he’d be as good for her as two-day old pad thai.

“What?” She barked.

Christoph looked innocently confused.

“Sorry?” He asked.

“Out of everything I just said, why do you care about what kind of workouts I do and not what books I read or meetings I attend?”

She watched the gears work in his eyes as he pulled out his wallet to pay for the book she suggested.

“I guess because I also like to workout,” he said, “and I was wondering what you do that keeps you focused since my workouts don’t seem to be working.”

She took his money and pulled out his change from the money pouch in her binder.

“Oh really?” She smiled crookedly as she handed him the change.

“Yes, really,” he said, making sure to gently fold his fingers over hers to grasp the coins.

“I really am here just for myself and my recovery,” Christoph murmured.

Sarah laughed at herself and the untrusting character defect she had been working on with her Sponsor for the last year, always projecting her fears onto others.

“Is your name really Christoph?” She asked, amused.

He tucked the book under his arm and looked her in the eye.

“No, I lied. My name is actually Christopher,” he said, “but everyone calls me Chris.”

Sarah held out her hand, "Well, Chris, I'm Sarah, welcome."

He firmly grasped and shook her hand, knowing she would be a challenge.