Kaleidoscope Eyes

Cameron Garner closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples. When he opened them, he had to squint to allow his sight to adjust to the bright fluorescent lights of the church. He had been to this meeting more times than he could count. Most of the members of this group were not required to come here. Many of them didn’t want to be there, but the incessant nagging that awaited them at home was worse than the meeting. Therefore, they came to the meeting of broken men and women, half of whom were in denial that a problem even existed. This was an alcoholism recovery meeting. 

While it was true that many came to avoid the lecture they would receive if they stayed home and drank, Cameron didn’t attend for that reason. The people who had been concerned about his problem had left long before he was willing to admit the fault was his own. The question he had been forced to face had been this: what would stick around longer, the booze or his wife and son? Ultimately, Jack Daniels, Captain Morgan, and good ol’ Bud had won that battle. By the time, he was putting down the bottle, his wife had walked out of the door.  

He had accepted the divorce pretty well. The breaking point had been caused by his drinking, so it was no surprise to him when she had packed her bags and left without notice. Not long after, he received the papers, signed them without strife, and began his life as a single man again. Jessica hadn’t spoken to him since, and he didn’t blame her. His sobriety and clarity of the hurt he had caused had come a little too late. He knew the sobriety wouldn’t change their situation, but his regret convicted him and ensured that he continued the meetings. He closes his eyes again, and when he opens them, he’s transported back to a month ago.

Sam, his son is looking up at him with his glove in hand, questioning why the other dads stay during their baseball practice but his father has somewhere to be. The young boy’s eyes don’t have a definite hue to them; instead, they hold a menagerie of colors like a kaleidoscope or one of those stain glass windows that churches always have. The church that holds the meetings has those kind of windows. 

“I’ll be back in an hour or so to pick you up. Work hard, listen to the coach,” Cameron declares to his son before turning and walking back to his car. 

Blink. He’s back in the church. A stout man with a handlebar mustache is talking about how he had a birthday over the weekend, and it didn’t feel like a birthday without a cold one in his hand. The gut hanging from his waist suggested that he had drank beers on days other than his birthday, but of course, no one was going to point that out. They all clap politely. 

A young girl, probably still in college, offers her hand into the air to speak next. She talks about how she was raised by drinking parents. They were verbally abusive and were constantly picking her appearance apart. Due to constantly feeling inadequate, she joined in on the beverages. By eighteen, she drank as much as they did. When she moved to her own place, her insecurities ate away at her until she couldn’t bear to stay alone. She went to nightclubs every night where desperate men would feed her drinking problem and tell her she was beautiful. She trailed off. 

The person leading the meeting, an older man named Doug, interjected by thanking her for sharing and encouraging her bravery in sharing such a deep truth. The group clapped before it went silent again. Doug gave a soft smile as he scouted the men and women around the circle. He finally called on the man who was dreading the silent judgment that would come from sharing with a group of strangers: Cameron. 

“Cam, it’s been good to see you here the past few weeks. What’s been going on in the world of Mr. Garner? Give us an update.”

Blink. Now, he’s at a rundown bar a couple of miles down the road from the baseball fields. He’s gingerly sipping a beer and watching the television to see what game they have playing. It’s golf. “What kind of bar has golf playing?” he thinks to himself as he takes another swig of his drink. The bartender walks over and sets a shot of whiskey in front of Cameron. Cameron looks at it, perplexed. 

“Compliments of the lady at the end of the bar,” the bartender says before walking off towards another patron. Cameron glances down the bar and sees an attractive woman smiling at him. He gives a polite smile but holds up his left hand and wiggles his ring finger to show his marriage band. Her smile widens as she mirrors his actions and reveals her own wedding ring. Cameron glances back at the shot in front of him. Although conflicted for a moment, he makes a decision: I’ve got time. Down the hatch it goes. 

Blink. The whole group is waiting for him to speak. He had blanked out while remembering that night, and he had no idea how long the room had been waiting for his response. He began with the obligatory, “My name is Cameron and I’m an alcoholic”.

The group echoes “Hi Cameron” back at him before he continues.

“Well,” he sighed as he drew in a deep breath of stale church air. “The divorce is finalized, so I haven’t spoken to Jessica in a while. I still see Sam sometimes. I miss him though.” 

He becomes silent but pushes himself to continue talking unlike the nightclub girl. All eyes are still on him. 

“But, on the positive side, it’s been a month sober. I’ve been diving into work a lot more. Lost some weight. I guess that’s a plus from not drinking.” 

The group clapped before they moved on to another member. This time, the middle-aged man in the suit spoke up. He introduced himself as Terry before speaking directly to Cameron.

“I can relate to what Cameron was saying. I’ve been divorced for a few years, but the custody battle is still in the works. I have supervised visitation that was put in place back when I was still drinking, and now that I’m sober for eleven months, I’m trying to get weekends with my kids. I think I deserve to see them!” Cameron nodded sympathetically even though his mind was as far away from what Terry was talking about as it could be. His situation with Sam was no custody battle. 

Blink. Hours have passed along with countless shots. Cameron and the unnamed woman moved to a booth where they are way more comfortable than their spouses would be comfortable with. She’s curled up beside him with one hand on his chest and the other gripping the glass on the table. She leans over and whispers in his ear. “Where are you going tonight?”

A flash of sobriety reminds him that he needs to pick Sam up. He looks up at the clock on the wall and curses before standing up. He excuses himself, and before she has a chance to dispute it or try to change his mind, he’s out the door. He sits behind the wheel of his car. His vision is spinning. He slaps himself in the face before putting the car in drive and pulling away from the bar. 

The drive to the fields seems to fly by. He’s committing multiple traffic violations, but that is the furthest thing that he cares about right now. He slams on his brakes just in time to avoid hitting a pole. He’s at the fields. All of the boys are gone, and the lights are no longer illuminating the field. There is not a single person at the park anymore, and that includes his son. Cameron curses again before getting back in his car. He had forgotten Sam, Jessica must’ve had to pick him up, and he was due for some harsh words when he got home. He reluctantly gets back in his car and dizzily steers it to the house. 

Blink. Terry had finished speaking, and meeting time was quickly running out. These gatherings are only supposed to take an hour (in accordance to those in attendance who were held here by court mandated hours). Cameron peered around the room at those in attendance. There were definitely some new faces, but he wouldn’t take the time to know any of them. He was here simply to fix himself, not make friends. None of the other group members were looking around. They each had their own infatuation with the floor as the shame of their addiction weighed their heads down. He let his head fall as he stared down at his shoes. 

Blink. He’s pulling into the house. Jessica’s car is in the driveway, and Cameron releases a booze-stenched breathe of dread as he stepped out of the car shakily. He stumbled up to the porch and  fumbled with the door knob before his wife swung the door open. 

“Really?” she asked in a justified annoyed tone. He hung his head like many at the meeting do when they’re faced with the severity of their issue.

“I lost track of time,” he muttered. She shook his head. 

“It’s bad enough that you go to the bars, drinking and God knows what else, but you shouldn’t drag Sam along with you!” 

Cameron’s head sprung up in indignation.

“I didn’t, thank you very much,” he said smugly. It was at this moment that Jessica looked away from him to glance behind him and realize that Sam wasn’t with her husband. 

“Cameron,” she said slowly, trying to stay calm. “where is Sam?”

“He’s with you. You picked him up from practice.” Cameron responded with a pouty bitterness still in his voice. Jessica’s eyes widened with fear.

The rest of the night was a blur for Cameron, and even when he had sobered up, the next few days blended together. They had driven back to the ballpark, called the coach and other parents, and then went to the police. No one had seen Sam. He was gone. No evidence of where he went. 

Blink. When he looked up, the person sitting across from him in the circle was not an alcoholic. It was his son, glaring at him with a look that spoke without a voice, “Why did you leave me there?” He jumped back in fear, knocking the chair over as he leaped to his feet. He shook his head as his heart pounded and looked back at where he had seen his son. Sitting in the spot, the young college girl stared astounded at his sudden movement along with the other members whose gazes were no longer fixed on the floor. 

Cameron gasped for air as he backed away and ran out the doors of the church into the cool air of the night. He hadn’t actually seen his son, but the image of his son and the guilt of losing him was etched in his mind, along with the boy’s kaleidoscope eyes.