Mr. SponsorPants

You would think I'd learn...

One AA meeting I go to during the week starts about half an hour later than the usual kick-off, and because of that, those thirty minutes are a friendly, warm, fellowshipful kind of time, where people drift in the door, get some coffee, and socialize.  We refer to it loosely as the meeting-before-the-meeting.  I think sometimes more people get more help during that half hour than during the meeting proper.

Just recently I wandered in extra early, and consequently there were only a few people in the room.  One of them is a gentleman I had occasion to make amends to a few months ago.

You would think I'd learn...

I walk up and stand next to him, facing the same direction, putting us shoulder to shoulder.  We're looking out over the room together, sort of generally watching people drift in the door.

ME:  Hey there.

HIM:  Hey.

ME:  How's it going?  How are you doing tonight?

HIM: Good. Good thanks. I'm good.

We stand there, next to each other. He says nothing further. We watch the door.  The silence plays out ...

...

...

...

After a too long minute or two, I lean in and lower my voice, conspiratorially.

ME:  I'm good too.

He seems startled, then a small smile, slightly sheepish.

HIM:  Oh! Oh, right, of course. Heh.  Right.  Right.  Good.

What can I say?  My side of the street is clean.

 

 

I tried walking my talk, but I'm afraid I wound up limping it instead.

Me:  Hey, thank you for meeting me for coffee.

Him:  Sure, sure.

Awkward minute of silence

Me:  So ... I believe I owe you an amends.

I wait a moment, half expecting some sort of response.  All I get is more silence.  I think to myself, "Well, maybe he's not going to make this any harder than it has to be, but obviously he's not going to make it any easier, either."

Me:  When you and I ran into each a couple of weeks ago, you know, I think ... you made a very neutral, even helpful statement, and I just kind of bit your head off.  I'm sorry, that's ... that's not cool, I don't like to be that way.  So I apologize.  I want to make amends.  If there's anything I can do to make that up to you ...

Him (sharply):  That's what this is about?  That's why you called me and asked me to meet you?

Me (taken aback):  Well ... yes.  I wanted to make a face-to-face...

Him:  You don't think you could have just said this on the phone?

Me:  I ... no.  I mean, yes, I guess.  But I just always think in terms of making amends, you know, face-to-face whenever ...

Him:  You know, you're supposed to wear the program like a loose blanket.  You don't have to be such a...

Me:  Oh please.  Who the hell came up with that loose blanket thing, anyway?  I think people just say that when they want to make excuses for not doing the deal.

He looks at me sharply but I'm on a roll.  Righteous indignation and guilt and grief and more resentment against this guy in a messy tangle in my gut.

Me:  You know what else is a loose blanket?  A fucking shroud.  Did you hear about ...

I name someone in AA who just died -- possibly OD'd -- earlier this week.

Him:  Yeah.  I did. 

The cafe is by a fairly busy street.  We're at a table on the sidewalk, and a truck roars by, silencing us both for a minute, like God ringing the bell signaling an end to Round 1 and sending us back to our neutral corners.

Him:  You sponsored him for a while, didn't you.

Me:  Yeah.  Yeah, I did.  At the beginning.  For a while.  Like, 3 years, actually.

Silence.  We drink our coffee for another minute or two.

Me:  What were you going to say?  I don't have to be such a what?

Him:  Nothing. Skip it.

Me (getting a little louder):  No. What? Say it.  Say what you were going to say.

Him (matching my escalating volume):  No. Never mind.  Skip it.  Look. Fine, fine. Apology accepted.

I open my mouth to say something, and close it.  He looks at me, looks away, takes a deep breath and stares into space.  We drink our coffee for a couple of minutes.  Someone we know from meetings walks by, waves.  We wave back and smile as if we've been having a lovely chat. 

Me:  Great. Well.  This has been fun.

Him:  Right. Yeah.

Me: Let's do this again next time I snap at you.

Him: No, that's ok.  Just call me and ... whatever.  Leave a message or something.

Me:  Right.  Yeah. Whatever.

He stands up, puts his cell phone in his pocket, picks up his keys and his coffee.  Hesitates for a moment.  Sticks out his hand.  I half stand up and shake it.  He walks away.

I think to myself, "I swear to God, if I could do this stuff any better, I would."  Then I sit there a bit longer, and laugh a little, because I realize if that's true for me then it has to be true for him, too.

I finish my coffee and leave, feeling, with that thought, somehow a little better about the whole thing.