Page 31 of In the Stars

I dip my chin and hurry away, needing to go see my sponsor. Not only because we have a meeting but because I’m feeling too on edge.

The drive to Seattle is quick, my mind stuck on Lana and Jaxon. More Jaxon than Lana. He’s the unfinished business I have to handle.

Honestly, I don’t know what I’ll say to Jaxon when it’s time for me to make amends. There’s so much I fucked up, so much I have to apologize to him for. He was the first person I hurt, the first mistake I made.

After all these years, he’s still the only person I’ve ever been in love with, and I was too afraid of my own past, of looking like a fool to come back and tell him how wrong I was.

Fuck, I was wrong. If I were in Jaxon’s shoes, and he was getting abused, I would have said fuck my vow and told whoever would listen that he needed to get out of that house. His betrayal stung, but it was necessary. I need to tell him that.

I push thoughts of Jaxon and my amends from my mindas I pull up to the coffee shop my sponsor agreed to meet me at. He’s already there, sitting at an outdoor table with a mug of tea in front of him.

For the past two weeks that I’ve been in Washington, we’ve met four times, and he always has tea. Said coffee gives him the shakes and reminds him too much of detoxing. I know what he means.

After I park, I step inside, order a lemonade and a blueberry muffin, then head out to sit. I don’t ever eat the muffin, but it gives my hands something to do when I feel exposed.

Jared, my sponsor, glances up when I approach the table, smiling widely. He’s an older man in his fifties with a receding hairline, graying hair, and an open face. He looks almost like a happy uncle that likes to give you long hugs and even longer lectures when you fuck up. But he has a kind heart and an easy disposition that relaxes me. He’s also an atheist like me, so we fit perfectly.

“Wesley. I’m glad you could make it.” He stands and shakes my hand. “How are you feeling today?”

“Gutted,” I say honestly.

Since I started working harder on the steps in my recovery and my sobriety, I’ve had to be honest about a lot of shit. The moment I start lying is the moment I’ll think it’s okay to hide shit from people. It’s a slippery slope that I don’t want to go down.

I continue. “I saw my old best friend today, someone I have to make amends with, but I couldn’t.”

“Were you not ready?” he asks, leaning forward as he wraps his hands around his mug.

I shake my head. “Yes and no. I was, but I saw a picture of him and his parents on his wall, and all I could think about was his family, especially his mom and everything she did for me. How she died before I could tell her I was sorryfor the shit I put her through.” I have to clear my throat to push the words out. “I named my band after her. Her name was Lana Collins. One night at like three in the morning, she heard me singing in her basement. Instead of chastising me for waking her, she told me that I had a great voice, and I could make it far. She said the whole world would know my name. I held on to that. And when the opportunity presented itself, I wanted her to know that I thought of her all the time.”

“So why are you feeling this way?”

“Because I should have found the time to see her. I only knew her for two years, but she meant a great deal to me. I let the booze and drugs cloud me from doing what was right. I chose getting high over someone I cared about. And I can’t ask for forgiveness because she’s dead.”

Jared pats my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” I say, keeping my shudder to myself as I pull my hands back. “I just came from seeing her, speaking to her and asking for her forgiveness. If I know her, she would have forgiven me, but it’s too late to know for sure.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about something you can’t change. You know Step Ten,” he says.

I nod. “Be kind to myself.” There’s more to it, but that’s the part he’s referring to.

“Yes. I’m proud of you for going to make amends, even when you knew you wouldn’t be able to connect with someone. That took courage. How do you feel?”

Instead of answering with my normal “I’m fine”, I search myself for my emotions. While there’s more anguish and sadness than I can express, I’m also relieved. Those were words I wanted to say to Lana for years, and I feel like, even though she isn’t here, she heard me.

I tell Jared that, and he gives me an approving look. “Glad you can identify your emotions. We didn’t have such an easy time at our first meeting.”

He’s right. The rehab I was in placed me with Jared when I told them I wanted to head to Washington instead of staying in LA. Doctor Steinfeld said he wanted to set me up for success, and since Seattle was the closest big city, they found a number of Narcotics Anonymous meetings that weren’t based around religion. Jared was the one I looked at and felt I could trust. So far, he’s proven me right.

Our first meeting was a lot of me sitting around, trying to string words together. I wasn’t as sullen as I was when I started to open up to Doctor Steinfeld, but I wasn’t too keen on talking to a stranger. But Jared made me feel comfortable, telling me about his own struggle with alcohol. He’s been sober for twenty years and says he actively works on it every day. It’s nice to know someone struggles like I do but also makes me a little angry that I’ll always struggle with the pull to drugs and booze.

One day at a time.

Initially, I was nervous about having a sponsor that wasn’t famous. It’s all supposed to be anonymous, but I didn’t expect the person I was paired with to keep their word. But when I met Jared, there was no hint of recognition on his face. When I asked if he knew who I was, he looked sheepish and said no and asked if he was supposed to. That made me feel safe around him.

After I told him who I was, he said he didn’t recognize me because he mostly listened to classical music and jazz, something that reminded him of his grandfather who raised him. He assured me that my privacy was of the utmost importance, and he wouldn’t tell anyone that I was his sponsee.

He smiles at me before taking a long sip of his tea. “Is there anything you want to ask or tell me?”

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