Party Girl_ A Novel - Anna David [64]
I’m bouncing off the walls ebullient when I walk into my last group. The weather has been so stunning that everyone, Tommy included, is wearing shorts, and I feel hopeful, excited, and like my life has entered some sunny, problem-free zone. I’m dying to share my good news about Tim’s message, but Tommy starts off group talking super earnestly—the way he always does when someone’s leaving.
“Let me just say that although I’m proud of you, Amelia, your work in sobriety has really just started,” he says, making it a point to look me in the eye. “Remember, we’re like people who have lost their legs—we never grow them back.”
I start resenting Tommy, thinking that this is hardly the best way to congratulate me for having survived—and for the most part flourished in—thirty days of not particularly glamorous rehab. Even though I’ve heard him do this number on Justin and Robin and everyone else on their last day, it never sounded as stern as it does now.
“The statistics for sobriety are incredibly discouraging,” he continues. “Most of us don’t make it. Today, with thirty days of intensive program under your belt, that may seem impossible to imagine. But out there in the world, when you start getting your life together, you may let other things come before your program. You may find yourself getting the career you’ve always wanted or the guy of your dreams, and forget that these things are possible only because you’re sober.”
“Actually, I—” I start but Tommy holds up his finger and continues.
“I can’t tell you how many people say they get it when they leave,” Tommy says. “And then they’re back here again—next year or even next month. Alcoholism is a cunning, baffling disease, and that’s what makes it so dangerous.”
Even though I’m still resenting Tommy for making my last group such a downer, I think I get why he’s doing it. The whole time we’ve been here, we’ve been hearing about people relapsing or “slipping,” which seems to be another word for relapsing that doesn’t sound half as bad. But Tommy has also promised us that if we go to a meeting every day, are rigorously honest, do the steps with our sponsors, and try to be of service to people every day, we will stay sober. And although I’m completely committed to all that, I can already tell that people like Vera and Robin, who have been talking about setting up a company together, where they’ll promote certain nights at various Hollywood clubs, are less so. Rachel has been reinforcing this idea that I have to keep sobriety my “primary purpose” if I want to “keep what I have” and I’ve said that I can. I’m constantly telling her that she doesn’t have to worry about me because I never even really liked drinking and the mere thought of coke sounds disgusting at this point.
When Tommy finishes talking, I share about Tim’s message and how excited I am to be embarking on this new phase in my life. When group ends, I go over to Tommy to savor my news even more.
“That’s nice, Amelia,” he says, as if I’ve just informed him that I emptied an ashtray filled with cigarette butts.
“I’m not sure you understand, Tommy,” I say. “In my field, getting offered a column at one of the world’s biggest and best magazines is considered a very big deal.” I know I’m being slightly condescending, which seems especially inappropriate given that Tommy has almost single-handedly saved my life, but I want him to swoop me into a hug and congratulate me.
Instead he asks, “You say it’s a column where you’ll be documenting your ‘crazy adventures’?” I nod and he continues, “Well, seeing as your primary purpose is now to stay sober and be of service, I don’t imagine you’re going to be having all that many ‘crazy adventures.’”
Amazing as it seems, this hadn’t actually occurred to me. And just as I’m about to freak out over the fact that I have to give up the best possible job I could imagine before I’ve even had a chance to accept it, I realize that I have a rich history to draw on.
“Tommy, the stuff I got up to pre-sobriety could fill ten thousand