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Loathe as she is to admit weakness, Rena has spent the past few nights (when not busy with Axe stuff) at her Support Group. Some nights are harder than others. These nights have been especially hard.
So that brings her to tonight, leaned up against the outside of the brick building that houses said group idly on her phone and occasionally popping and cracking some joint in her body.
Hey, remember that guy who like...showed up a couple months ago, but then didn't actually go to a meeting? He's back! Hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, his face buried in the collar to try to fight off the wind. He slows as he gets close, and he's wearing that same cologne - smells like the air before a rainstorm.
And blood. Dead on for blood. Weird, right?
He upnods at her, a small, slightly nervous smile on his face. "Hey, haven't...seen you in a bit." As if she'd been the one not going to meetings, and not him.
Rena bites her lower cheek at the smell, forcing herself to suppress her hunger. She's dressed like she normally does, with no respect for the cold northeastern weather. T-Shirt (with fuck spelled in sign language on it), tattered jeans and knit beanie. She's not even shivering or anything.
Rena isn't not clever, but she's got no reason to doubt Jack. "Yeah, I can't do day meetings. Work and stuff. Need an extra meeting today?" she says, so casually. Like she isn't probing at all.
Jack does a double take at the shirt, his lips sliding into an actual smile as he reads it, and runs a hand through his hair. "Nah I - had to work today. I usually work nights, can't come to meetings then. My week's been...mm. Last few weeks, even." He shakes his head. "Better here than to a bar, y'know?"
"Yeah, shit's been rough," Rena says, pocketing her phone. "I've been. You know." She waves her hand in a so-so motion. "Hope I didn't scare you off last time, by the way. I know I have a tendency to do that."
"Nah, wasn't you. I..." Jack trails off with a slight grimace. "I mean I was more'n ready, I was just a coward. Still am. But I'm a coward who goes to meetings, so." He shrugs. "...Rena, right? Stayed sober, since then?"
"Hey, bud," Rena says, suddenly serious, "don't insult yourself. 'Specially not for havin' trouble with recovery." And then quick as it came about, she's back to aloof and calm. "And yeah. 'nd your name was... James? Been doing my best to stay sober. But, like I said, I've been having some rough nights."
"'Coward's not even an insult at this point, 's just the truth," he chuckles. "An' it's Jack. Yeah, it's...it's rough, even when shit's not bad for me. But it's...I don't trust myself to go out and celebrate with my coworkers, even. Kinda sucks. And I dunno 'f the meetings help, but...means I'm not sitting alone, and it means we can all bitch to people who get it," he finishes with another chuckle. "You wanna talk about what's been so rough? Before we gotta go listen to everyone else?"
"I'm serious, you can't call yourself a coward. It sets you up for all sorts of bad brain habits and shit," Rena says, shrugging. Someone clearly has been going to a lot of meetings lately. "
Yeah, sure, I'll spill my guts." She stops for a second, figuring out how to not say certain things. "So, uh, almost a year ago, I got out of a real shitty relationship. But I still find myself missing the guy and like... feeling like I should be doin' the shit he'd want me to do." Her hand instinctively moves to her barbed wire tattoo and scratches at it. "And I don't really have a sober way to deal with this shit other than like distractin' myself with comics."
Jack doesn't really seem to know what to say about the whole 'stop calling yourself negative things', thing, so he just kinda drops it, dropping eye contact with her, too.
But when she starts to talk about herself, he leans against the wall next to her, listening with a sort of intensity that's nowhere near creepy, but more than most people might. He's actually paying attention to what she's saying, and not just thinking about how to respond. She gets a few winces of sympathy, with the relationship talk, and after a few moments of silence, he nods.
"God, yeah that...sounds really shitty. That why you started using, to forget about him?"
"Nah, he actually got me to quit for a year. I started usin' to forget about my dad." Rena grins a sarcastic grin. "If you can't tell, I've had a charmed life." Her phony smile drops as she lets out a deep sigh. "But like, everyone here's got a sad story. I doubt there are many addicts without one. 'Nd I'm down to listen if you need someone to say yours to."
"I mean, 's kinda the point, right? No one's gonna start using 'les they've got a reason to. People don't just...keep doing this shit for shits and giggles. But yeah I...I mean I was doing a lot harder stuff for a while. Couple'a years. And then I uh..." he trails off, and runs his finger nervously through his hair. "I stopped for a...couple reasons, and when I got outta that whole fucked up situation it was like...alcohol's not as bad as that other shit, yeah? Even if the whole thing started with drinking, anyway. Theater people drink hard." There's a few moments of silence.
"God, I miss it like hell sometimes. Which - isn't the kinda thing I can say to most anyone. 'Cept at meetings."
"I know what you mean. Every so often my gremlin brain just tells me, 'hey, you know what'd be awesome? Some heroin.' And my friends or my sibling won't get that that's only part of me, so I gotta spend the rest of the night itchy as a motherfucker, desperate for some way to make my brain shut up. That's what brings me here tonight." Rena explains, slumping back in her lean.
"Yup." Jack thuds his head gently against the brick with a sigh. "So - I dunno 'f you follow local news or anything, but my union just won some pretty major concessions with one of the theaters we operate in. Which was stressful as hell to be involved in, last year i'd have been going to the bar every night, or bringing shit home just to sleep. And then...we did it. And I can't even have a beer to celebrate." He scoffs and shakes his head. "So I come to these instead, or go out with friends who don't drink. Still always feels like they're taking pity on me, a little. Even if I know they're being thoughtful as fuck. It just...everything gets twisted up in it. You know."
"Oh shit, that was you? Fuckin' nice." Rena slides a hand up for a high five, making sure to be the one to receive instead of give. Consequences of being so absurdly strong. "That sounds rough, man. I never really did shit to celebrate, but I can imagine it being a son of a bitch to not when you could. My friends don't exactly get what addiction is, I don't think. I don't think they get that its a struggle and not a binary state of me being 'better'. Your people like that?"
He dips his head at the compliment, and gives her a solid high five. "Yeah I...I dunno. I don't really talk to any of 'em about it, that much. They just kinda...accept that it's a thing. I don't...know if I could actually tell any of 'em, if I lapsed. Like...I'd be scared to. The fuckin' judgement, you know? Even if they wouldn't, it..." He grimaces. "It's been helping me, in a shitty kinda way. Knowing I'd prob'ly keep it from 'em for at least a little while. And I don't have to deal with that guilt if I...just don't drink."
"That doesn't sound too healthy there," Rena says, quirking an eyebrow. "Like the not using is good but the rest of it is, como se dice, troubling? Cause like, it sounds like you're gonna collapse like a house of cards if you do relapse. And odds are you'll relapse. So you should find a way to land on your feet when it happens, so you can get back on the wagon." If she intentionally mixed those metaphors she doesn't show it.
"Hey, never said my coping mechanisms were good coping mechanisms," he puts his hands up in mock defense, smiling a little. "I did relapse, couple weeks after I showed up here. It...I had a drink, to celebrate finishing a...work thing." He keeps it vague. It may not be the entire truth, but the reason isn't important, anyway. "Felt good until I finished the drink. 'F I hadn't had a friend there, I'd have had another, probably. But the longer I go...the worse it's gonna feel. And I know that. I just...don't really know what to do about it."
"I'm probably overstepping my bounds here, but fuck it. Jack, you can't stay sober out of fear for what the fuck would happen if you aren't. Then you're going to relapse and hate yourself and then do drugs about the hate. You need to like, I dunno, do it for you. Or do it because friends are happy when you're happy. Shit like that. And if you're hangin' around people who are judgmental of you for bein' an addict, give me their names and I'll beat the shit out of them till they respect you," Rena says, looking completely serious about the violent part.
He opens his mouth to deny it the moment she starts talking - but can't find anything to deny. So he shrinks a little, instead, crossing his arms and hunching into his jacket.
"None...nobody's gonna be judgmental. I got rid of those folks before I ever got sober," he says with a huff of a laugh, though there's not much amusement in it. "But...I can't get rid of the feeling. And it's not...it's not the only reason I'm staying sober. But I don't know how to make it not matter." There's a beat. "'Cause yeah, I'm fuckin' terrified of what'll happen."
"Well, I mean, you relapsed once and you survived. Hell, I've relapsed a ton and I'm still alive." Something about that phrasing takes the wind out of Rena's sails and makes her unbeating heart hurt. "You got a shrink?" she asks, sticking her hands back in her pockets. "Cause no offense, I'm just some dirtbag. I might be a wise dirtbag but I'm still just a dirtbag."
"Heh. Nah, I...mm. I got some shit that's hard to talk about, that I think I'd have to talk about, to a shrink. To get anything done, you know? And...so it can't just be anybody, and finding someone who's...who'd get it, is...mmh." He grimaces and shoves his hands in his pockets, too. "How 'bout you?"
Rena cracks a snarky grin. "You think I can afford a therapist? It's kinda flattering. I don't look I live on the streets any more, I guess. I'm movin' on up."
Her face falls back to serious and she says, "Seriously though, like, therapists are like paid to hear about whatever you want. So unless you're an active murderer, I think they have to listen to you. Ethics or somethin'."
"Hey, I mean places like William Way've got free counceling and shit - and meetings too, but they're AA meetings and shit. So there's a religious flavor that leaves a bad fuckin taste in my mouth. And it's not...I mean 's just shit that'll make me sound like I need a completely different brand of help than I actually need." He shrugs. "So I...just kinda deal. Like you do. Congrats on finding a place to live though, I know that's rough as hell."
"Got a job and everything. I'm practically an upstanding member'a society," Rena grins, as if it wasn't a big deal at all. She pauses for a second before flipping back to serious. Her face matches the emotion she's projecting but it's not hard to tell that parts of it are an act. "No offense, Jack, I think if you say shit that makes it sound like you need help, you probably need help. Form follows function, y'know? But hey, if you want someone who won't judge, I can listen. I shot up a couple times with a guy who thought that aliens abducted him every night."
"Oh hell yeah," Jack grins right back. Getting a job's fuckin hard, and he clearly gets it. But his smile falters at the mention of abductions. "Yeah...abduction stories make people look at you real funny. 'Specially if it's part of the reason you're so fucked up." A beat. "Fucked up because you got abducted, I mean, not 'cause you think you did."
Rena's face sinks and for once it's clear she means it. "Ah, shit dude. I didn't mean to hit on anything raw. But I think people'd be understanding if you explained you were abducted. I can't imagine how awful that'd be." Beat. "Unless it was aliens. People might give you a weird look at that one."
"Hey, it got me sober for six whole weeks..." his laugh is small and humorless. "It's...I mean 's just not shit that everybody believes. 'Specially because I was so fucked up at the time. I don't...remember a lot of it, honestly."
"If it makes you feel better, I believe you." Rena gives a soft smile. "And yeah, the best thing my, uh, ex did was get me clean for a while. It was almost like an upside, if you really squinted. Hey, lemme give you my number. In case you ever need to talk in the middle of the night. I don't do days though." She whips out a pristine iphone 4 and holds up her number.
"...Thanks. Yeah, it's...'s probably good I don't actually remember the withdrawal, to be honest..." Jack nods and digs in his pocket for a slightly more beat-up looking phone in a heavy duty case and raises his eyebrows at the state of Rena's phone, but doesn't comment as he taps away. "Night's fine, like I said, I work in theater so my schedule's all messed up, compared to most normal folx."
She gets a text a few seconds later that just says Jack and he puts his phone away. "We should...probably go inside, yeah?" As he eyes the people trickling into the building.
"Wouldn't know shit about the theater. I was too busy being a jock to be a theater kid." And like that, she's back to grinning.
She cocks her head towards the people entering. "Ah, shit, lost track of time there. You think you're going to share anything tonight? No pressure or nothing, but some times it helps."
"I...dunno." Jack shrugs. "Maybe? I...just never quite know what to say. Which I know, 's just an excuse." He fiddles with the ring on his ring finger, a simple but somehow weirdly noticeable band with a glittering black stone.
"...'f you will, I will."
"Deal," Rena says, giving a quick sloppy salute, "I love to hear myself talk." She takes note of the ring, her brain instinctively wondering how much she could pawn it for. "C'mon, let's get going."
Jack's reaction to that salute is to snap to attention and salute her back, his entire body tense and, well, at attention. The smell of blood drifts around him, slightly stronger now, too. But he relaxes back into a more casual posture almost immediately, and dips his head with a slight grimace before following Rena inside.
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