Robyn Carr - Any Day Now

“When did you last go to a meeting?” Beth asked.

“It’s been a while,” she said. “I’m not really settled in yet...”

“I guess you’re not if you’re staying in a hostel. Weren’t you going to be with your brother?”

“I never intended to stay with him,” Sierra said. “He’s just married six months or so and they’re pregnant. I’d be in the way. I want to see him a lot, not live with him. I have to figure this out.”

“Here’s what I want you to do. If there’s a meeting tonight—go to it. Then I want you to go to a motel. Worry about money later. Hit the first meeting of the day tomorrow. It might even be a two-meeting day. No more hostel business—you don’t want to be living with a bunch of college kids on a vacation bender...”

“The lady said they were strict...”

“Uh-huh,” Beth said. “Another thing that never stopped you. Talk to someone at a meeting about a sponsor. You shouldn’t fly solo in a new town. You should have someone you can call if only to go for coffee in the next few hours. Are you hungry? Tired?”

“Nothing like that. Just depressed. Why, I have no idea! My brother and sister-in-law pulled me right in, this place is beautiful, some drunk girl stumbled into my bedroom and stank up the place. That’s a good reason to be irritated not depressed!”

“We don’t need a reason,” Beth reminded her. “Find a safe, warm place tonight and call me in the morning. Find a meeting.”

“I will,” Sierra said.

“I’ll wait while you look,” Beth said.

Sierra gave a heavy sigh. She checked her phone app—a meeting locater. She did a little clicking. “Looks like I missed the last one...ten o’clock in Leadville, a thirty-minute drive. Midnight meeting in Denver—a long drive. But there’s a seven o’clock in the morning. I hate being the new kid.”

Beth laughed. “Come on, there’s a long list of things to hate.”

“I want to be strong,” Sierra said.

Beth laughed again. “Good luck with that. That one never works.”

We don’t pray for control, Sierra recited silently. We are powerless.

“Think you can make that early one in the morning?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Can you find a place to stay?”

“Yeah, there are places around. And there’s always my brother. One night wouldn’t kill him.”

“Or you?”

“Or me,” she said. “Okay, I think I have a handle on it now...”

Beth asked her to recite exactly what she was going to do. The little grocery was still open. She’d get some snacks, maybe a premade sandwich if they had some. Chips and a soda, maybe a cupcake or something. She’d find a warm, safe place to stay for the night, hit an early meeting, but by morning she’d feel a lot better and have a good plan.

It was amazing to her how fast that feeling of hopelessness could come over her. It was usually like this, a stack of relatively small issues—being the third person at a table, the odd one; her brother kissing his new wife and the envy she had that he had somehow managed to rebuild his life. She suddenly thought, I will never have that. Then the noise of partying in the hostel; the drunk girl. Any one or even two of those things wouldn’t have screwed up her head. Sierra was, if anything, resilient. She knew how to hunker down, breathe deeply, offer up a prayer or two, get through it. She worried that maybe she was given to some mental illness. Not the same as Jed’s—she didn’t have imaginary friends. But she believed she leaned toward depression.

She’d voiced that in a meeting once and at least five people said, Duh.

Impossible as it was for her to comprehend, she was still grieving the loss of her crutch, her best friend, her savior. Of course that crutch broke under her weight, that friend betrayed her, the savior cast her into hell.

She pulled her sleeping bag out of the trunk and put it in the pumpkin’s small backseat. Then she went to the grocery; they were just closing up so she turned on her fake smile and begged a favor, a few snacks if she could be quick.

“Got the munchies?” the clerk asked snidely.

A huff of laughter escaped her. “I’m not high!” she said, incredulous. “I’m staying at the hostel and there’s nothing to eat!”

“Make it quick,” he said. Clearly, he did not believe her.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” she said, heading for a refrigerated section that contained a few deli items. She grabbed a sandwich, a couple of hard-boiled eggs, a large Kosher pickle, and added a soda and bag of chips on her way out. As an afterthought, she added a couple of candy bars. She wasn’t even hungry, but she’d be damned if she’d be caught with nothing on hand. Just having some supplies made her feel more secure. There was no way she was going to Cal and Maggie, though she knew they’d be happy to find her a space. It was so important to her that Cal and Maggie think she had it together.

She decided to go to the Crossing. That Sully, he seemed like a pretty simple, straightforward guy. He wasn’t too deep or complicated, she could see that. And it was a campground. She’d camp. It wasn’t too cold, given her sweatshirt and sleeping bag. Her flashlight was charged, she had food and drink, there was a public bathroom... She’d snuggle up in the backseat, read her book and snack and if she ran into any trouble, like a bear or something, she could outrun it in the pumpkin. Or she could lay on the horn until Sully woke up.

That’s right, Sierra. Wake up a little old man to fight off your bear.

But nothing would go wrong. In the morning she’d just tell him the hostel filled up with college kids and she wasn’t the partying kind. She was more the kind to have a quiet and private night. Best to ask about that cabin; she’d be more than happy to work around the Crossing for a room.

Her first surprise was that she could even find the Crossing—it was awfully dark on these back country roads. It was after ten and she didn’t pass a single car. Fortunately there was a bright moon and Sully had some lights on at the grounds. There were a couple of small campers and a car parked by one of the cabins and even in the dark she could see progress had been made on the cleanup in just a matter of days.

She parked right between the store and Sully’s house where he would see her car first thing. She didn’t want to shock or worry the old guy. Then she crawled into the backseat, snuggled into her sleeping bag and looked at her phone. She still had plenty of charge for the night. She pulled out her nifty little book light that fit around her neck like a necklace shining in front of her. Her bag of groceries sat on the car floor on one side of the bump, her open backpack on the other. If nature called in the night the light on her cell phone would get her to the loo.

She pulled out Pride and Prejudice again. Just like her other favorite romances, the hero was very masculine and a little cruel. Just like real life, Sierra-style.

Her throat hurt a little as she fought the release of tears. She denied herself tears. It was her penance for all her sins—the pain of holding in the tears. Someday, when she’d suffered enough, she imagined the floodgates would open and she’d cry till she drowned. But not tonight. She drank some soda to take the ache away. It wasn’t long before she nodded off in her book, cozy as a bug in a rug.

She was roused in what seemed like seconds by a tapping on her window. Startled, she woke to see Sully tapping with his flashlight. It was still dark. Was he frowning? Beau, the yellow Lab, had his forelegs up on the door, panting excitedly. Beau seemed to be smiling. She opened the window a crack.

“Coffee’s on,” Sully said. He walked into the store.

The keenest sorrow is to recognize ourselves as the sole cause of all our adversities.