Sleeping With the Dogs Again

         She'd kicked me out again. So I was sleeping with the dogs, again. The dogs are my friends. They are my single friends. The other night I'd come home drunk, smelling of another woman's perfume and with her lipstick residue still on my lips.

         I knew she'd kick me out again. I knew it, but I did it anyways. I cursed myself, and thought of our kid. I knew I needed to stop, and that she wouldn't take me back the next time. But I couldn't, not then.

Maybe now I could free myself from the bottle. My relationship with alcohol is like that line from the poem our kid wrote, "Sometimes I'm not sure if you're holding the bottle or if the bottles holding you!" I knew I had to try, and I knew it would be hard while I was at the dogs' place. They were always drinking, partying, and fighting. They were almost a decade younger than me so they were entitled to be rowdy, but me? I was the misfit. I'd never grown up yet. I thought, "Now would be the time to get my shit straight, before she leaves me for good.”

         I guess I should tell you who the dogs are and how I met them. Their names are James, Karl, and Zach. I met them while working at my last job, doing construction on a building. I remember going out drinking with them that first night on the job. A red haired young man, Zach, had come up to me and asked, "Hey you wanna go to the bar after work, let off some steam, catch the game?" He looked so much younger than he does now. It was the drugs.

         I answered his offer with, "Sure, I was gonna head to a bar after work anyways."

         To this he smirked, and said, "Good, but the new guy buys the first two rounds!"

          I'd met the other two earlier on the same day, at lunch break. They smelled of that particular type of sweat you get when you're sweating out the previous day’s beer, and were complaining about the boss. So I said, "What's so bad about Earl? He's the one who got me this job."

         They looked at each other. Then the short one with the long black hair, James, started to say something. The tall, bearded and muscular one, Karl, silenced him with a hand and replied, "James here slept with Earl's daughter, and now he's afraid Earl is gonna fire him."

         I remembered Earl's daughter's face. She was a cute kid. The last time I'd seen her was 8 years ago. She would have been at least twenty-one by then. And as I was remembering her face as I'd seen it last, I decided to help this guy out. See if Earl knew one of his "boys" had slept with his daughter. So I said, "I've known Earl for years, I'll talk to him, see if he knows, and if he'd be mad. Did Earl introduce her to you? Or did the two of you meet at a bar?" I inquired to James. He said they met at a bar, then introduced himself and Karl. We went to the bar after work, and I bought the first two of a dozen rounds, but that's enough of an old story. I'll give you the short of it. Earl wasn't mad, and James went out with Earl's daughter for about three months.

         The important things are that I'd cheated on my wife, that I had to get off the bottle, and that I had to do it for the kid. However, the most important thing was that I had to figure out a way how to do it, while living with three alcoholics. I'd already decided to sober up. Now I just need a way. So I was going to go to an AA meeting, and see if I could get the dogs to come with. I remember thinking, "Maybe it'll do us all some good."

         I woke up that Saturday morning crawled off the shaggy old couch; it was still semi-comfortable even though it belonged to Zach's parents for twenty years, and told the dogs that I was going to AA. They didn't want to go to AA, and they said as much. So I had to go by myself. My first time as a guest at AA went pretty smoothly. It was an informal open meeting. That's not the kind with people in suits, that's a Dress Meeting I learned. I looked forward to going again. I also called Patty that day and she said, "I'm still mad at you." I explained to her that I was going to AA and was willing to do marriage counseling with her if she still wanted me. She said she'd think about it.

         I went back to the dogs’ house from work that day. The smell of whiskey and vomit was overwhelming as I walked through the door, mixed with the sweet rankness of a real dog's shit coming from outside it was unbearable.  The dogs wanted me to go drinking with them, and here's the strange part.  I didn't feel like drinking. I wasn't in the mood to for the first time in years. I thought, “I never believed this day would come.”  And the next day they asked me to drink again, and I still wasn't in the mood. I kept calling Patty, and the next week she finally gave in to my pleas. I know she thinks I won't change, but I have and I will continue to change. We went to counseling the next day. It was a couple's group, where there were multiple couples with marriage problems talking about their partner's short comings and strong points. After telling our problems we received advice from the therapist and the other couples who were senior in the group.

         It's continued on like this for the past few weeks, and that's where I stand now, no longer a drinker. Still living with the dogs, and separated from my wife and kid. Still see the kid every other day; he's proud that I haven't drank in almost a month. I see my wife for the group, and she's beginning to trust me again. I look back on the last cheating incident now and thank God that I did. If I hadn't I might still be drinking, and no woman likes a cheating drunk.