scene: A young woman comes into a meeting older Edmund is chairing. After the meeting, he's signing papers and handing them back, but hesitates over Celeste's.
"You were half an hour late," said Edmund.
"So you're not going to sign my fucking paper? Look, I don't need to be here at all. I could sign every fucking line myself with different color ink and writing with my left hand or my right crossed over my left--I'm good at it. Thing is, I don't need to be here at all and I'm getting haselled for being late. Maybe there's a reason, maybe..."
"Look, sweetheart, I'm just asking..."
I am not your sweetheart. Celeste's ears were turning red.
Relax. I call my daughters "sweetheart". They're around your age, that's all. No disrespect..." he looked at the paper. "...Celeste."
Celeste let out a sigh. She tapped her foot on the leg of the desk. She rolled her eyes.
"Why are you late? Half hour late. That's half a meeting. Half a measure..."
"Yeah, half measures avail us nothing." She stared balefully.
"So you've been coming around--and listening."
"I told you, I'm trying."
"Why are you late?"
"I get out of work right at noon. I have to get the baby from daycare, take her to my mother's, listen to my mother's shit as payment, then I'm on my bike and here as fast as I can make it."
"You can bring the baby"
"Sure, she let's out one peep and we're both banned for life."
"Not quite..."
"I seen it happen. They don't like babies at meetings. And especially not the moms stupid and inconsiderate enough to dare to bring the crying wailing puking thing to this hallowed hall. You gonna pay for an extra hour of babysitting?"
"Some people are touchy. We're all ultra-sensitive. We see insult in every glance. It's our vision that's distorted."
"like in a bell jar"
"Ay, mi madre, you're not reading Plath in your first 30 days? Plath should not be touched in the first year."
"But she understands...I totally fucking relate."
"She stuck her head in an oven. Life? She was doing it wrong. Her point of view is fucked up. Like Salinger...oh, these great truths he reveals about phonies....follow that line of reasoning and next thing you know your standing on top of a clock tower shooting at rock stars to impress a movie star. "
"Yeah, I thought it was you. You had me in class 3 years ago."
"I'm sorry. I don't remember you."
"I was only there for 3 weeks."
"Oh, right...you're the quiet one who disappeared."
"Remanded to rehab."
"Welcome back."
"I got a year. I was in jail, maybe that doesn't count, but I ain't stuck a needle in my arm in a year. I get piss tested. I'm clean."
"Good for you." He signed her paper. "I don't like to sign for someone trimming time off the meeting because he can get away with it. It's like endorsing bad behavior."
"You were okay, for a teacher."
"Thanks. I suppose you were okay, for a student, or else I'd definitely remember you." He handed her the paper. "Keep Coming Back"
"That's 3."
"3?"
Three fucking bumper stickers. You're stepford people. You talk in bumper stickers. It's revolting.
I see why you stayed quiet in class.
I get kicked out of everywhere eventually no matter what I do. I can't catch a break. I keep my mouth shut they think I'm depressed then suicidal then I'm on one-on-one unit restriction. Fuck that shit. I'm not suicidal, I said, I'm homocidal. Next thing I know I'm in 4 point restraints. So I open my mouth and the result is the same only worse. Fuck me.
Think about that. What's your role in all of that?
I was there.
Exactly. If you weren't using drugs, would you have been there?
It was a fucking possession charge.
Exactly.
But my being high had nothing to do with my arrest.
I can't begin to address the insanity in that statement. It's too clear on too many layers cuz I've said the same fucking thing myself about myself and you know what? I was wrong. You get off drugs, you reduce the insanity. You might even see the insanity in statements like that, justifying ourselves, yourself.
I got ratted out.
If you weren't using drugs, you wouldn't have them in your possession, now would you?
It was dumb.
Yeah. We do dumb things.
Um, Mr. Gato....oh, sorry. No last names. anonymity. Like no one recognizes you. You must have other students see you at meetings. What the fuck? Aren't you embarrassed?
Why would I be embarassed? They're here for the same reason I am.
Can I call you? Like what, a sponsor?
You can call me. But I don't sponsor anyone who's been my student. A rule I got from my sponsor. Ask one of the women.
I don't like women. They're catty. I trust you...why can't you sponsor me? I mean I was your student for 3 weeks 3 years ago
You already have an impression of me as someone more powerful, more able to help you...it's inevitable....it's like a shrink sponsoring her patient. The two relationships clash. Anyone can help you, some better suited than others, but believe me there's someone in these rooms that's a much better match than I could ever be.
Well, fuck you then. But I can call you? Can I have your number?
You really should ask one of the women....
They're all alcoholics. They don't understand junkies.
Then go to NA. It's at 4 o'clock. You wouldn't have to be late. Find yourself a junkie with time. Knock yourself out.
You used, didn't you? You're not a straight-up alcoholic, are you? I got that right. But you have time.
You need a sponsor you won't become physically attracted to.
I'm not...
I'm talking future possibilities. It's an intense relationship. Turn it sexual and all sorts of demons come flying to the surface. I'm talking serious drama. Drama you don't need in your first year. Drama I don't need.
But you have time...I don't know how to do it. I'm going crazy.
Sweetheart...oh, sorry...
It's okay now. It's nice even. Like you might could care someday.
I do care. I care about every person in this room. Every one who asks me for help. That's a principle of the program.
I'm asking you for help.
And I'm giving you help. I'm telling you to get at least one woman's phone number before they all clear out.
You're a slick motherfucker. You should of been a lawyer.
I tried. Didn't work out. Never finished law school. Consequence of addiction.
Working for minimum wage as a teacher in Key West?
Not quite.
Bartenders make more than teachers.
In Key West, bartenders make more than lawyers. In season.
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