Gamble on Me: The Road to Rocktoberfest 2022 by Ann Lister

Author:Ann Lister [Lister, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rock Gods, Inc.
Published: 2022-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Gamble

After Bix left my house, I walked around the silent rooms for hours in a daze, and for the first time in many, many months, I genuinely thought about having a drink or finding a pill to get myself high, needing an escape from the pain I felt in my chest. How sad I was ready to fall right back to the bottle at the first sign of trouble. It made the AA meeting I’d planned to attend tonight even more critical. It was my one steadfast lifeline, and I’d latch on to it before giving up the months of hard work I’d gone through for sobriety.

There was no way I’d slip back into my “Trip” persona. I was over him and his destructive patterns. As far as I was concerned, Trip died on the table during his last overdose. And speaking of Trip, I’d no longer allow anyone to refer to me by that name as of today. It represented nothing but my failures—and I wasn’t a failure. I was a survivor, and it was about time I seriously stood up to the naysayers who’d said I was a worthless addict destined to OD again and again.

I went to the AA meeting with my head held high and sat in the front row. When offered the chance to speak, I raised my hand and walked to the podium. I told the small gathering of about eight people all the main hurdles I faced but left out any talk of Bix and our relationship. His job in this town was everything to him, and he’d worked his ass off to achieve every promotion and accolade he’d received. I would never disrespect Bix by speaking publicly about him. But me? The general public already knew everything about my sorry ass. I had minimal secrets left to keep, so when I started talking to the group, I owned every word I said.

“My name is GW Greene, and I’m an addict and an alcoholic,” I said as if it were a badge of courage I’d earned while lying in the gutter of what used to be my life.

I walked home from the meeting with a clear head and a much lighter heart. I glanced down Elm Street and saw Bix’s truck in front of his small two-story home with a few lights on. I stopped briefly and contemplated knocking on his door but changed my mind. It was after nine, and I wasn’t sure when he started his shift tomorrow, so I turned away and continued walking down the sidewalk. I felt an odd sense of peace within myself. I sure as hell had spent enough hours reflecting on every moment and every word we’d exchanged—especially at lunch. Bix had spoken the truth, and I commended him on having the balls to do so as much as I didn’t want to hear them. I respected his feelings and would do as he requested. I planned to call Randy in the morning and tell him I’d take the slot.

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