Read Online Other Broken Things by C. Desir - Free Book Online Page A

pounding as much as it is. “So you said there were rules?”
    She nods and pushes the plate of scone toward me. I shake my head because, gross, I’m not eating half of someone else’s food, and also, I need grease right now.
    â€œYou need to call me every day you’re not going to a meeting. I need you to meet me here once a week. I need you to call me if you’re thinking of drinking again. I need you to shut up and listen.”
    â€œThat all?”
    â€œYeah. It’s not that hard.”
    She’s basically just mandated that we’re to be best girlfriends for an undetermined length of time. Sure, not that hard.
    â€œI’m already at the Eleventh Step,” I say.
    She laughs. Not even shy. More like a horse laugh. The barista looks over at us and I slump a little in my chair. “You’re not at the Eleventh Step. You don’t even believe in God. I saw you mouthing ‘watermelon’ during the Lord’s Prayer on Friday night.”
    Oh. Well, seriously. I’m sure half those women in there do the same thing. At least I’m not being hypocritical.
    â€œYour first assignment is to read the chapter for the agnostics in the Big Book . It’s called ‘We Agnostics.’ ”
    â€œI have a crap ton of homework to make up, Kathy. And I’m starting my community service today.”
    â€œYeah. Joe told me about that. It’ll be good for you. Meet some of the other guys at SFC. Get to know people in the program. But still. Read the chapter. Before next Sunday. It’s not that long.”
    I’ve read it before. In rehab. My therapist suggested it when I first started arguing that God didn’t exist. But if I’m being completely honest, I don’t really remember much of it. Pretty much the only two things I remember about rehab were the itching need to either get drunk or get out. Most of the time both those things at once.
    â€œFine.”
    â€œYou still have my number?” she asks, and I nod. “Good. Call me before school every morning you’re not going to a meeting. What time is your first class?”
    â€œEight.”
    â€œOkay. I’m up by six. So call anytime after that. What days are you going to meetings?”
    I shrug. “Haven’t really locked in my schedule yet.”
    â€œMonday, Wednesday, Friday. Sundays with me, then pancake breakfast.”
    â€œAre you handling me?”
    She shakes her head. “Not my job. I’m just trying to make it as easy as possible for you to stay sober. Let’s go outside and smoke.”
    Yes. Okay. This is good. This, I can deal with. Only as soon as we go outside and light up, she starts asking a bunch of personal questions about my family, my life, my DUI. And I’m wondering if this whole sponsor idea is not such a good one after all.
    â€œLook, Natalie. I don’t give a shit if you’ve got an attitude. Life can be crap sometimes and it’s best you know that early. Then you won’t be surprised when things go to hell. If you recognize nothing’s perfect, you won’t drink to make it go away, because you realize it never goes away. There’s constant suffering. It’s good you understand that.”
    â€œSo today’s lesson is: get used to suckiness? Bang-up job on the sponsoring, Kath. You’re reeling me right into the program.”
    She snorts. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”
    I blow a ring of smoke. “So how about you do that? Tell me something different. Give me some wisdom here, so peeling my eyes open this morning feels worth it.”
    â€œHow about this one: everyone alcoholic, including you, princess, is a liar.”
    â€œI’m not . . . ,” I start, but she waves her cigarette around.
    â€œYou are. And your attitude comes from the fact that you think everyone else is lying too. Not just the alcoholics. Everyone. And