'I came out the cut and got on a bus. I had thirty-some dollars in my khakis and a blue shirt on my back. I was wearing sneaks had Velcro on 'em 'stead of laces. Prison gear, and I looked it too. Rolled into D.C. at night, went straight to a drugstore near the bus station, and bought some cologne, 'cause I felt like I had the smell of jail on my skin. I get up to the register, and people be runnin' cards through some machine they got on the counter. No one was pullin' out cash. Everyone be talkin' on their cells, everyone be wearin' new fashions. I realized, I am an old head now and I am lost. I do not know what the fuck is goin' on out here anymore. Right there, in the drugstore, realizing what I was up against, that's when I got scared for the first time in my life. Standin' right there in that store, I felt that ache come to my head.
'When I come out that drugstore, I spent the last of my money on a taxi and went to my grandmother's place in Park View. She was waitin' for me. She looked good. Her house smelled like her cooking. She had tied balloons to the banister, right there in the entranceway. She hugged me soon as I came through the door, and I hugged her back. 'Welcome home, son,' she said. 'Welcome to your new life.' Both of us just stood there and held each other. My grandmother cried. I ain't ashamed to admit it, I cried some, too.'
A chair creaked in the room.
'It just takes one person to believe in you,' said Lorenzo. 'When I hugged that woman, I knew I was gonna try to do right. And that's all I can claim. I'm
'Anyone else?' said the guest host.
'My name is Rachel Lopez…' said Rachel, speaking quickly, not planning to speak at all, not knowing what she was going to say.
'… and I'm an alcoholic'
Lorenzo leaned forward in his chair.
'I don't have the right to be here,' said Rachel. 'I haven't even tried to get sober. I was drunk last night. I was still drunk when I woke up this morning.'
'I remember those mornings,' said a woman.
'It's not just that I haven't tried to get straight,' said Rachel. 'I'm a probation officer. I make my living telling other people that they need to stay on track. And that makes me a hypocrite. Because I jumped the tracks myself a long time ago.'
'I recognized you the first time you came to these meetings,' said a male voice behind her. 'You used to come to my mother's house to call on my brother. You always showed my mother respect. You got the right to be here, same as anyone else.'
Rachel did not turn around to match a face to the voice. She laced her fingers together and rested her hands in her lap.
'I've been drinking a long time. I started when I was about fourteen, down in Texas…'
Rachel Lopez spoke of high school, then college. She spoke of being the last one standing in the bars at the end of the night. Her friends said she handled alcohol well. She didn't change while under its influence. While drinking, she seemed to have control.
'I got a degree in criminology at the local college. I don't know why I chose law enforcement, exactly. It seemed exciting, I guess, and I had a vague notion that I was going to help people. After graduation I took an internship at a halfway house near my parents' place. I didn't like the work, and I felt stifled, living at home…'
She had entered into no romantic relationships. She had continued to drink.
'I wasn't happy. I sent in an application to become a probation officer in Maryland. The EEO was on my side. They needed Spanish-speaking POs at the time. Still do, I guess. Anyway, I got the gig.
'My father…'
Rachel closed her eyes and saw him, in bed, on his last day. He was going to die and yet he was not thinking of himself. He wanted to talk about her. He was worried about
'My father got sick,' said Rachel. 'My mother got sick too. I took a leave of absence from my job and went back to Texas to stay with them. You know, to help. But I couldn't help. I couldn't control what was happening to them. They both had inoperable cancer. The doctor called it an unfortunate coincidence. My father passed, and then my mom.'
'They're together now,' said a voice in the room.
'Yes,' said Rachel. 'And here I am, still drinking. Still trying to control things I can't control. I don't even know why I'm telling you all of this today. It's not like I've got a plan or anything like it. Anyway.' Rachel cleared her throat. 'Thank you for letting me share.'
The basket was passed around. The group gathered in a circle, their arms resting on one another's shoulders, and said the Serenity Prayer and afterward, the Lord's Prayer. An older gentleman extolled the virtues of Narcotics Anonymous. The meeting dispersed, and its participants went on their way.
Out in the parking area of the church, facing East Capitol, Rachel Lopez lit a cigarette. Some members of the group went to their cars, alone or in twos and threes. Others went to the bus shelter and sat on a bench protected from the sun. Lorenzo Brown walked across the grounds of the church and stopped beside Rachel.
'Hey, Miss Lopez.'
'Hey, Lorenzo.' She exhaled a stream of smoke. 'What about that incident you described in there? The physical-retaliation thing. We gonna have a problem with that?'
'The man I stepped to, I don't think he'll report it. That's how it goes in the street. Callin' the police is the last
