Page 76 of Madness

Dakota chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

I turn in my chair to face him, reaching up to cup his cheek. "You certainly are. Thank you for being so amazing with him."

Dakota's eyes soften, his hand covering mine. "Lauren, you don't have to thank me. I love that little guy. And I love you."

The sincerity in his voice makes my heart swell. "I love you too," I whisper.

As Dakota leans down to kiss me, I'm struck by how right this feels. The three of us are building this life together. It hasn't always been easy, and I know we still have challenges ahead. But moments like these - Dakota's bedtime stories, Roman's laughter, the quiet intimacy between us - they make it all worth it.

I deepen the kiss, my studies forgotten for now. There will be time for cellular respiration later. Right now, I just want to savor this moment, this feeling of family, of all-encompassing love that I’ve only dreamed of.

47

OTHERSIDE

DAKOTA

The familiar scent of coffee and cookies fills the community center as I take a seat in the circle. A few faces nod politely in my direction. It's been several weeks since I've been to a meeting, and this is a brand new group to me.

"Welcome, everyone," the group leader, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, begins. "I'm Tom. Let's start with introductions. Who'd like to go first?"

Before I can second-guess myself, I raise my hand. Tom nods encouragingly.

"Hi, I'm Dakota," I begin, my voice steadier than I feel. "And I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Dakota," the group responds in unison.

I take a deep breath, centering myself. "I'm... not usually at this meeting. I've been on tour with my band, but I'm back in town now. A lot has happened, and I felt like I needed to share, if that's okay."

Tom nods. "Of course, Dakota. This is a safe space. Please, go ahead."

I nod, grateful for the encouragement. "Recently, I found out some difficult truths about my late wife, Chloe. It turns out she was... unfaithful. She died alongside the man she was having an affair with."

A few sympathetic murmurs ripple through the group, but no one interrupts.

"The thing is," I continue, "I was surprised by how well I handled it. Don't get me wrong, it hurt. It still hurts. But it didn't send me spiraling like I feared it might. I didn't reach for a drink. Instead, I reached out to my support system. To Lauren, my... my girlfriend."

I pause, realizing I've never referred to Lauren that way out loud before. It feels right.

"Lauren is... well, she's incredible. She's been by my side through all of this. We're building something real, something strong. And her son, Roman... he's amazing. Being with them, it feels like I've found my place in the world."

I look around the circle, making brief eye contact with a few attentive faces. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm grateful. Grateful for my sobriety, for the clarity it's given me. Grateful for second chances. And grateful for groups like this, for giving me a place to work through all of this."

As I finish speaking, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. Sharing this, acknowledging how far I've come, feels significant.

Tom nods, a warm smile on his face. "Thank you for sharing, Dakota. It takes courage to face difficult truths, and even more courage to share them with strangers. Does anyone else have any thoughts they'd like to add?"

A woman across the circle raises her hand. "I just want to say, Dakota, that your story gives me hope. To hear how you've handled such a difficult situation without turning to alcohol... it's inspiring. Thank you."

Others nod in agreement, and I feel a warmth spread through my chest. This is why I keep coming to these meetings, even in unfamiliar places. The understanding, the support, and the shared journey toward recovery.

As the meeting continues, I listen to others share their stories, their struggles, and their triumphs. Each one resonates with me in some way, reminding me that I'm not alone in this journey.

When the meeting ends, I stand awkwardly for a moment, unsure whether to linger or leave. Tom approaches me.

"It's good to have you here, Dakota," he says warmly. "I hope we'll see you again."

I nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and shyness. "Thanks, Tom. I'll try to come back when I can."

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