The speaker was a member of our group, celebrating a two-year anniversary. Most of the people in the room had heard her drinking story at one time or another, so she talked instead about what her life had been like during the past two years. It was an emotional qualification, and the applause when she finished was more than perfunctory.
I raised my hand after the break and talked about finding Eddie's body, and about spending the rest of the day with someone who was drinking. I didn't go into detail, just spoke about what I'd felt then, and what I was feeling now.
After the meeting several members came up to me with questions.
Some of them weren't too clear on who Eddie was and wanted to determine if he was someone they knew. He wasn't a regular at St.
Paul's, and he didn't speak up a lot, so not many people knew who I was talking about.
Several who did wanted to know the cause of death. I didn't know how to answer that. If I said he'd hanged himself they'd assume he'd committed suicide. If I explained further I'd have to get into a deeper discussion of the matter than I felt comfortable with. I was deliberately vague, saying that the cause of death hadn't been officially determined, that it looked like accidental death. That was the truth, if not the whole truth.
A fellow named Frank, long sober himself, had only one question.
Had Eddie died sober?
'I think so,' I told him. 'There weren't any bottles around the room, nothing to suggest he was on a slip.'
'Thank God for that,' Frank said.
Thank God for what? Drunk or sober, wasn't he just as dead?
Jim Faber was waiting for me at the door. We walked out together and he asked me if I was going for coffee. I said I had to meet someone.
'The woman you spent the afternoon with? The one who was drinking?'
'I don't think I mentioned it was a woman.'
'No, you didn't. 'This person was drinking, which was fairly natural under the circumstances. There's no reason to think they have a problem with it.' This person, they— you don't make that kind of grammatical error, not unless you're trying to avoid saying she.'
I laughed. 'You should have been a detective.'
'No, it's the printer in me. It gives you a wonderful awareness of syntax. You know, it doesn't really matter how much she drinks, or whether she's got a problem with it. It's what the effect is on you.'
'I know.'
'You ever been with a woman who was drinking?'
'Not since I've been sober myself.'
'I didn't think so.'
'I haven't really been with anybody aside from Jan. And the few dates I've had have been with women in the program.'
'How'd you feel this afternoon?'
'I enjoyed being with her.'
'How'd you feel being around the booze?'
I thought over my answer. 'I don't know where the woman stopped and the booze started. I was nervous and excited and edgy, but I might have felt a lot of that if there hadn't been a drink anywhere in the building.'
'Did you have the urge to drink?'
'Sure. But I never considered acting on it.'
'You like her?'
'So far.'
'You on your way to see her now?'
'We're going out for a bite.'
'Not the Flame.'
'Maybe someplace a little nicer than that.'
'Well, you've got my number.'
'Yes, Mother. I've got your number.'
He laughed. 'You know what old Frank would say, Matt. 'Lad, there's a slip under every skirt.' '
'I'll bet he would. And I'll bet he hasn't looked under too many skirts lately. You know what he did say?
He asked me if Eddie died sober, and when I said he did, he said,
'Well, thank God for that.' '
'So?'
'He's just as dead either way.'
