George stopped by at lunch with a sack full of Krystal hamburgers. He wanted to thank me for hooking up his computer and getting him online.
“It’s no problem,” I said modestly.
“Well, you’ve been sober three weeks,” I said changing the subject. “How does it feel?”
“Does the urge to drink ever go away?” he asked. “I get beside myself for a drink some days. I want to come over here with you when I get like that.”
“Yes,” I said, trying to sound kindly. “It lessens over time. I never hardly ever think of drinking anymore these days.”
“Been to any meetings?” I then asked.
“I can’t get around the ‘being powerless over alcohol’ thing,” George replied. “I do have power. I choose not to drink. It makes me feel sorry for all those people in AA in like they are helpless addicts.”
“My problem was always with the higher power aspect,” I told him jumping on the bandwagon. “Like some omnipotent being was going to just magically take away the urge to drink. It reminded me of fairy dust and leprechauns.”
George laughed. “You always were weird about religion. Momma would love for you to go to church with her you know.”
“I know,” I replied. “She asks me all the time. I would be the only white guy there. I don’t have any Sunday clothes that fit me and it is always a good excuse.”
“Live it up today,” George told me as he was leaving. He knows I ration my cigarettes to make them last and he handed me a pack of Swisher’s Sweets cigars. “Smoke one after the other if you want to.”
I thanked George profusely and told him goodbye. It was so good having him stop by today. He looks so well. Sobriety is being kind to him.