Change Your Mind

“Hello, my name’s Toby,” said the man wearing a navy blue suit with tawny shoes that matched his wrist watch and belt. “Hello Toby.” Mumbled the other five voices in monotonous unison. Toby had onyx shaded hair that was slicked back, a cleanly shaven face, a glistening white collared shirt, and cyan tie - littered with white flowers - that was yanked against his trachea. He stood with his shoulders back, looked out at the people around him, and a small smirk crawled across his face. “Long time fan, first time attendee. Out of curiosity, would I be able to skip the steps part and get my chip now?”

A woman sat across from Toby; she chuckled to herself. She had relatively relaxed attire on compared to him: a mulberry sweater, a pearl colored skirt, pantyhose, and black platform shoes. Her walnut hair was held with a white scrunchie and slowly sliding down her face were thick, black glasses. Toby deduced that his woman must be the ringleader. She wrote on her clipboard, raised her head, and smiled, “Using comedy as a defense mechanism, subversive,” she teased, “However, it won’t help you here. This is a safe, judgment free environment where we can all admit to AND face the problems in our lives together.”

“Pass,” retorted Toby, “I’m not doing this.” He picked up his briefcase that leaned against his chair and whipped around, fully prepared to leave, when the woman remarked with his level of snarkiness, “Well, you must be here for a reason, Toby.”

Toby stopped and spun around, “Yeah, I’m here so I can get back to work. I don’t care about any of this. I don’t care about ‘our problems’ or your ‘judgment free zone,’ ” he said mockingly. “I want to get back to what I love to do and, get this, I need money to live in a house.” His condescension permeated the room like a poison. “We done? Great.”

“So work sent you. Why do you think that is?” she calmly responded.

“Why? Oh-ho, get this.” Toby paraded back in, haphazardly dropped his briefcase, sat in his chair backwards, and began talking at the woman, “Because they think I drink too much. They think I use it as a coping mechanism, a distraction, when really they don’t want to look in the mirror. They don’t want to face the fact they’re annoying.”

“Who’s annoying?” she inquired. Toby groaned, “My co-workers, my boss, the clientele. You want to sit here and tell me I have problems? The last thing they’ll ever try is coming to one of these wastes of time to recognize that THEY’RE the ones with problems!”

“I can’t imagine how frustrating that is,” she retorted. Toby rolled his eyes, “Oh, no yeah. ‘You can’t imagine.’ It’s literally your job.” Toby’s voice had the same sarcastic tone as a teenager when they sneer at their parents.

The woman’s playful demeanor quickly changed to that of tranquility. Her voice like wind gently blowing through the leaves on a perfect summer evening. “Toby,” she began, “I’ve met a lot of amazing people while working here. You’re right; most won’t admit to their shortcomings but no one is perfect. The best anyone can hope to do is try to be better than who they were yesterday; you included. Now I can’t force you to stay, I can’t force you to try, but I deeply believe you should stay, you should try. And I think your co-workers or boss agree with me. Perhaps, they are truly worried about you and just maybe what they all really want is for you to feel better. I don’t think that’s a waste of time.”

Toby sat in awed silence for a moment. Then scoffed at her, “Yeah, fine. Whatever. I’ll finish this session, but that’s it.” The woman across from him smiled, “Thank you-” But Toby quickly interrupted her, arrogance seeped from his lips, “Who are you though? Who are any of you? Oh, yeah, let’s psychoanalyze the new guy before he even knows anyone’s name. Real classy.”

The woman shifted upright and responded, “I’m Dr. Stevens. But you can call me Rebecca. I spearhead group AA meetings on Tuesdays and Thursdays and group anger management on weekends. The to your left is Roger and Margaret and on your right is Emily and Jordan.” They all pathetically greeted Toby then turned back to Rebecca.

Roger wore thin, large silver glasses, he had on a loose fitting button-up gray shirt, grossly oversized blue jeans, and untied obsidian dress shoes; he looked like a clown. Toby surmised Roger was at least 50, with whitening hair that wrapped along the back of his head and a long, unkempt snow-white beard. Roger looked exhausted and forlorn and he sat hunched over with his hands together.

Margaret looked to be in her early 40s, but Toby noticed she had yellow teeth, dirty fingernails, and an uncanny amount of wrinkles. She sat with one leg on the other and one elbow supported by the back of her chair. She looked frustrated, and completely over this session. Occasionally, and not so stealthily, she’d sneak a peek at Toby out of the corner of her eyes. Her hair was a dull brown and she was skeleton skinny; she wore a lot of makeup, a low cut, magenta top, blue jeans, and black and white sneakers. She had fool's gold jewelry on her wrists and ears, and a faux leather bag that teamed with cigarettes.

Emily, who sat to Toby’s right, looked barely 19. She had blonde hair in a really tight ponytail, a short, black dress cluttered with rouge flowers that seemed randomly spat on, and fancy sandals. She had a bag like Margaret’s but it was real leather and Emily had glittering bracelets on one arm and her class ring shined predominantly. However, Emily looked the most irritated: she would constantly fidget and search her bag for something. Then, a moment later, realize it wasn’t in her bag and her face would become tomato red, she would glare at the floor, tighten her fists, and pout.

Lastly, Jordan just looked bored. He was a 20-something college jock. He wore his signature letterman jacket that was black and white, his pants were black, his basketball shoes were white, but his T-shirt was the brightest hue of scarlet Toby had ever seen. Jordan’s hair was short and he had a horrid, patchy beard. He stared blankly at the wall parallel to him as his phone continuously dinged, which seemed to cause Emily an immense amount of frustration.

After they all turned to Rebecca to see what was next, Jordan’s phone dinged again and Rebecca sternly addressed him, “Jordan, remember what I said last week.”  He sarcastically nodded, but adjusted his phone none-the-less. “ ‘If it goes off again, I’m keeping it.’ ” Jordan inattentively mimicked. Rebecca smiled and then turned to address the group. “Now, seeing as Toby is new - and we know a little about him - how about each of you stand up, say your name, why you’re here, and a little bit about yourself? Clockwise like always. Roger, when you’re ready.”

Roger slowly stood and addressed everyone, “Hello, I’m Roger.”

“Hello Roger.” Everyone responded weakly, except Toby, who sat in silence, “I’m here because I got five DUIs and-” Margaret quickly cut him off, “Five?!” she snorted, “Didja lose count at one?”

Emily and Jordan gave out a small giggle as Rebecca sneered, “Margaret! Enough.” Margaret scoffed and turned her head, “Whatever.” Rebecca quickly smiled again and gestured Roger to go on, he stammered, “Right, DUIs. And,” Toby noticed Roger rubbed his ring finger that housed a pale line, “And I, well, was a civil engineer. Thank you.”

Roger was sweating bullets as he shrunk into his seat. “Thank you, Roger,” affirmed Rebecca, who then snapped her head to Margaret, “Go ahead.”

UGH! Margaret groaned and stood. “I’m Margaret, don’t do that ‘hello’ crap. I’m 36 years-young. I smoke and I drink, tryin’ to quit one of ‘em to get my four kids back from CPS.” Margaret snorted as she plopped back down. Roger muttered, “What? Lose count at one?”

Margaret glared, “You got something to say, numbnuts?”

Roger closed his fists, “You lose count at one?! Or did you just lose them cause you’re a no good whore?!”

Rebecca exploded to her feet and stood between the two, “Whoa, whoa! Okay, let’s take deep breaths. Come on, everybody. In through the nose….. Out through the mouth…...” She gestured to Roger, Margaret, then everyone else. “Judgmentfreejudgmentfreejudgmentfree… Okay. Roger, now I know you’re upset and hurting. But I need you to apologize to Margaret.”

“But she-” Roger began but was immediately interrupted by Rebecca, “I understand, I do. But like we talked about: it’s okay to be angry, it’s not okay to be mean.” Roger slowly nodded, “I’m sorry, Margaret.” he said as he crossed his arms and looked away. Rebecca nodded, “Good. Margaret, now you know you’ve upset-” Margaret interjected, “I don’t care about this moron that missed Santa Claus tryouts.”

Rebecca moved her face into Margaret’s line of sight, “Look at me.” Rebecca asserted. Margaret patronizingly obliged, “You’ve expressed it’s difficult to empathize and difficult to control your anger. That’s okay, it really is. You’re learning. And I know you truly, deeply care about your kids, correct? And I know you want them back, correct?” inquired Rebecca, “...Yeah,” Marget conceded. Rebecca continued, “Then I need you to take the first step and apologize to Roger. Then we can communicate about the situation and begin to understand one another. All right?”

Margaret scoffed. “Sorry.”

“Great job. That’s an amazing first step.” Rebecca grinned then swiftly added, “I am going to need you to trade places with me.”

Margaret grunted as she stood up and moved to her left. Toby noticed a photo booth picture slip from her purse onto the floor; he stayed silent. Margaret slyly winked at Jordan as she got comfortable in her new chair, “How you doin’ gorgeous?” she smooched at him. Jordan cringed and looked to Rebecca for help - who had sat down next to Roger - and gestured to Jordan. “Go ahead.”

Jordan stood and side stepped away from Margaret. “I’m Jordan.”

“Hello, Jordan.” the crowd unceremoniously responded. Jordan continued, “Um, I’m 24 and I go to Duke U and, um, I’m here ‘cause the school says if I don’t raise up my grades I can’t play football next year ‘cause, well, right now, I’m in academic probation, but next year I’ll be expelled and I don’t do my work ‘cause I drink instead. Plus, like - as Rebecca put it - I have a dependency on alcohol so that other people will like me. And yeah that’s about it.” Jordan sat back down and slowly spaced out until he felt Margaret touch his leg. Jordan snapped back to reality and viciously scooted his chair towards Emily.

Emily, without being called upon, leapt upright while coddling herself, “Hi, I’m Emily and-”

“Hello Emily.” the voices, ever soothingly, chimed. “Yeah, hi. I’m here because my dad took my phone away and my credit card because I drink too much. So yeah, this is the worst. It’s unfair and aggravating and UGH!” Emily expelled her words unabashedly and slammed back into her seat. Rebecca spoke again, “Jordan that was great. You’ve made momentous strides in being able to understand the cause of your addiction. And Emily, I understand how stressful and frustrating a big shift in life like that can be. But, despite how it may seem, he does have your best interest in mind.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Emily retorted, “It’s just so frustrating, like, I’m not even 21 yet and he takes my credit card away? Like, come on! I even went out and got a job and it’s difficult and I hate it. But I’m doing it.”

“Where?” Rebecca asked, “The front desk at some gym. Minimum wage is a joke.” Emily ranted. “Why did you get the job?” Rebecca inquired. “Uh, duh, to get my card back? Like???” Emily jeered, with her palm outstretched facing upwards, confused and annoyed.

“I think that’s why your father is abstaining from giving you the card. He wants you to work to learn the value of working for yourself, for your own money.” Rebecca explained. “Yeah, whatever.” Emily scoffed again, her disdain palpable. Toby, quietly watching, quickly spoke up, “Work for yourself? Ridiculous.”

“Thank you!” Emily exclaimed.

“What you should do is find a sugar daddy,” Toby continued, “All the smart 19 year-olds have sugar daddies and obviously your daddy ain’t giving you any.” Toby rubbed his fingers against his thumb to gesture money. “But, wouldn’t I have to do gross things to, like, ancient old men?” Emily questioned, “No offense, Roger.” Roger looked up, exceptionally confused, as he wasn’t paying attention.

“I mean, yeah, but it's a small price to pay. You do a lil’ somethin’ for them and you get all the money you could ask for.” Toby waited a moment while Emily processed “Or,” he continued, “Instead of doing ‘gross things to ancient men - no offense, Rog’ - find a job you actually want to do. Something that makes you happy and makes you money. I mean, you want my opinion? The latter sounds the best.” Toby smirked at Rebecca and then turned his attention to Emily who slowly nodded in agreement.

“ ‘Ancient men?’ ” Roger inquired, “I’m only 52?”

“You ain’t gettin’ any younger, Santa Claus.” Margaret cackled as she nudged Jordan, who awkwardly smiled and balled himself up. “Shut up!” Roger roared, “Oh, he tough again,” Margaret remarked, “Ay, new guy, why don’t you ask him about Mrs. Claus?!” Margaret exploded into laughter and then into a coughing fit.

Roger shot up and the metal folding chair that was under him flew back. CRASH! Right into the brick wall. Margaret slowly stopped laugh-coughing and stared up at a tomato faced Roger, who had one gigantic vein that protruded out of his forehead. The room stood completely still as Roger viciously breathed.

HUFF… PUFF… HUFF…

After what felt like an incredibly tense eternity, Roger turned to Rebecca and through his teeth, said, “I’ll see you next week, Dr. Stevens.”

Roger picked up his chair and set it back in place. WHAM! He whipped around, grabbed his coat, and, in his mind, smashed the doors off their hinges. After the tension slowly left the room, Rebecca whipped around to Margaret. Emily and Jordan had scooted behind Toby and the three stared at the two amazonians about to brawl. “MARGARET!” Rebecca bellowed, her teeth grit so hard they were one clench away from shattering, “What did we JUST talk about?!”

“What? It ain’t my fault old man can’t take a joke.” Margaret said diverting the blame. “No. His divorce is extremely fresh to him. You absolutely CANNOT joke about that. You may be able to joke about- better yet, let’s try to empathize. Do you remember your divorce?” inquired Rebecca. “Do you remember how you felt?”

“Pfft. I ain’t care then, I don’t care now. I gave that man the best of me and he cheated on me, drove me to drinkin’, then took my damn kids. I only care about them; not about some stupid asshole who can’t keep it in his pants.”

“Margaret, do you want to know why you drink?” Toby interceded.

“Oh, yeah, Wolf of Wall Street. Let’s hear it.” smirked Margaret.

“Toby, do not-” Rebecca snapped, “No, no. I got this.” Toby reassured. Rebecca rolled her eyes and leaned back. “Margaret, tell me if this sounds like you. Life’s hard, real hard. Constantly kicks you, puts you down, but through it all, you got someone. That one person pushing you. You’re happy with them, until, curve ball, they cheat on you. Break your trust and throw you away just like everyone else did. And you say to yourself: ‘Am I the reason everyone treats me like garbage?’ And your brain decides, ‘Yeah it was your fault.’ So you say: ‘Screw it. If people are going to treat me like garbage, then I’ll be garbage.’ So you drink, you smoke, drugs, you do everything that, in your eyes, makes someone garbage. And then one day, you find something new. It’s precious and you love it with all your heart. But now you’re garbage. What to do? Because you don’t want to corrupt it and you know if you want to keep that new, wonderful thing YOU have to change. You don’t care about yourself, you only care about keeping that new light and never losing it. But in the end, you’re scared. Scared of losing, scared of hurt, and mostly, scared of yourself.”

Both women stopped and stared at Toby - awestruck - and slowly Margaret murmured, “Yeah.” She was angry, but knew Toby was right. He quietly stood and walked behind the chairs to the dropped photo. All four of Margaret’s kids were in the pictures; two daughters and two sons. The first picture was serious, then silly, then thoughtful, and the fourth was all Margaret’s kids hugging her. Toby handed the photo to Margaret, and softly said, “Yeah.”

The room sat empty after the AA meeting. Only Rebecca had stayed behind to put chairs away and Toby stayed pretending to fiddle with his briefcase. Rebecca put up the last chair and Toby looked at her. He slyly taunted, “You’re not very good at this.”

“Chairs? I agree.” she confessed sarcastically. She wiped her brow, “This is a difficult group, I won’t lie. They’re new to sharing and it’ll take time,” she contemplated, “I won’t deny you helped today. Not bad; for someone who thinks this is a waste of time.” Rebecca teased.

“Well, maybe not. Maybe I’ll come next week.” Toby’s gave his first genuine smile of the night. He meandered to the door and turned to Rebecca again,  “That wasn’t Margaret I described.” He finally said. Rebecca picked up her things and winked at him, “I know.”