Free One We Love, The by Donna White Glaser

She didn’t like most
people. Sometimes I wasn’t even sure if she liked me.
    “Why are you asking about her?” she asked.
    “She’s on the board at the shelter where Regina used to
work. They’re having a board meeting on Saturday, and I’d really like to talk
to her before then. If you think she would be, um, sympathetic.”
    “Like I said, she’s good people. But it would depend on
exactly what you’re asking her to do. I’ll give her a call and pave the way for
you. You’re on your own after that.”
    “Good enough,” I said.
    “It better be. Now, unless you want to talk about your Third
Step, you better hustle your bony butt into the meeting.”
     I hustled.
    Grabbing a chair between Stacie, a young friend who’d gotten
sober the same day as me, and Trinnie, a newbie, I plunked myself down at the
banquet table. Trinnie looked liked she’d lost weight; something she could ill
afford. She had a murky cigarette smell that, despite the staleness, was
captivating to me. Addictions are a bitch.
    Unaware of my vicarious inhalations, Trinnie leaned forward.
“Letty, I need to ask you something.”
    “What’s up?”
    “Would you be my sponsor?”
    “ Me? I can’t. I haven’t gotten through the steps yet
myself.” An understatement.
    “Just temporary then. Until I find someone I can work with,”
she said.
    “How come you don’t have one yet?”
    “I haven’t been able to decide who I like best. But I really
need to get started. I had kind of a rough weekend.”
    “Did you drink?” I asked. Sounded like a sponsor already.
    “No, but it was close. I need to get phone numbers, too.”
    “I guess I could be a temporary sponsor, but you really need
to find someone with more time. Soon . And you need to talk about your
weekend when it’s your turn tonight.”
    Stacie and I passed her our phone numbers, then hushed. The
meeting was starting.
    I didn’t know if I’d done the right thing, but I guessed as
a sponsor I was better than nothing. Not by much, but still. Especially not
with the way I’d been avoiding working on my own program.
    I liked Trinnie. She reminded me a lot of my younger sister,
Kris.
    I mentally shook myself and turned to focus on the speaker.
Daydreaming through a meeting wouldn’t exactly be setting a good example.
     
    L ater that night,
I laid on my couch waiting for the local news. Siggy was curled in a warm, vibrating
mass on my chest. I blew softly on his ear, making it twitch. He stretched,
then re-positioned, tucking his face under my chin. Although he looked like a
rich dessert, cream-colored with cocoa-tipped points on three paws and the tip
of his tail, it was the chocolate smudge under his nose and chin that made me
name him in honor of psychology’s father, Sigmund Freud. His purrs rose and
fell with his breathing, a sound I call “sleep buzzing.”
    The phone rang, startling me and upsetting us both. Sig
hopped down, tossing a reproachful look over his shoulder and stalking into the
kitchen for a nighttime snack.
    “Hello?” My voice sounded wary even to my own ears. The only
persons I knew who would call this late were family. Hence, the wariness.
    Detective Blodgett’s gravelly smoker’s rasp boomed through
the tiny phone speaker as though he’d never accepted the phone’s ability to
project his voice. I snatched the phone away from my ear, frantically jabbing
the volume button. Even with the phone six inches from my ear, I could still
hear him.
    “Don’t you ever call back?” he asked. “I was just getting
ready to put out a BOLO on you.”
    “Nobody needs to ‘be on the lookout’ for me, but thanks for
worrying. Besides, I called you.”
    “I wasn’t worried, and I texted you back.”
    “You texted me?”
    “My grandkid taught me. I’m hip.”
    I thought about Blodgett’s stretchy, hound dog face and
baggy, mismatched suits, and squelched a giggle.
    “What kinda trouble are you getting yourself into now?”
    Not worried. Right. Despite