guava

Jim walked by the bar. He paused thinking about the last time he was there - drunk out of his mind - thrown out - told never to return. This time he would come armed. What?!

No Jim decided he would never be armed and also not return. Anger - even if just angry fantasies were poison.

He was sober for a year, a worker among workers. Lonely but for AA meetings. Still given to violently intrusive thoughts, and rarely to fantasies of power.

****

Mary came out of the bar.  She had been day drinking, which she did every Saturday- Sunday she sobered up.

Monday through Friday she was a well-respected actuary, a director at the firm where she had worked for nine years. Her sister admired Mary's self-control. Mary was not impressed. She wanted more out of life. She wanted to not stumble- and fall.

But fall she did. Just as Jim passed... Lucky thing too. Jim broke her fall catching her in his powerful, yet gentle arms.

He took her home. He gently sat her on her door step. He said he'd call in a few hours. He did.

They saw each other the following Saturday - no booze. A row in Central Park - they took turns rowing on the lake then read side by side in the grass. Not a roll in the hay. Not yet anyway.

***

Janet was playing standards on her alto. Bill edited an article he was submitting for publication in the journal on anthropology in which he usually had his research published.

Mary knew jazz and was off and away talking about historic recordings Billie Holiday had made of those standards.

Over dinner that night the two couples talked jazz, anthropology of the jazz world, the business world- so many different subcultures.

Friendship and community- with hardly any booze. Jim had none. He didn’t trust he could have just a drink or two. He knew himself to be an alcoholic. Mary could stop after one or two - but she had three.

Bill and Janet each had two glasses of Merlot. Jim had guava juice.