The Society

The room was crowded with all types, just about every age and description. Up on the stage, behind the podium, hung a large banner with the word “Believe” written in gold script on a navy blue background. A thin gaunt man looking like a professor complete with patches on an old tweed jacket stood at the podium and gaveled for attention.

“Five minutes, everyone, five minutes and we will get started. This is a good time to have that last cigarette, because once we get started there will be few breaks. We have rather a large crowd this evening.”

Neal strained his neck looking around. There must be someone here that he knew. Finally, he spied her, a pale young girl over in the corner standing with her arms hanging down by her side, her face tired and lifeless. He remembered her from the gym. Hoping that she would remember him, he walked over to her.

“Neal.”

“Sarah.”

“Sarah always sounds like such a sad name.”

She laughed.

“Maybe we can sit together, I don’t think I could listen to this again by myself. Maybe afterwards we could get a coffee or a drink. I could use a drink. No chance of that in this meeting.”

“Again? Afterwards?” Sarah was interrupted by the group turning and shushing one another.

The professor began banging his gavel asking for quiet. Sarah and Neal made their way over to some folding metal chairs, cold to the touch. As they sat Neal noticed for the first time that the room was very cold, reminding him of the walk in freezer at the bar where he worked.

Soon the professor was going on and on about the society and how it was going to help all those collected. It was time to believe in yourself, make peace with your family, your personal god. It’s time to take charge of your tired worn out bodies and renew yourself. With each point someone in the audience clapped or added yes, yes we can! I want to be renewed!

“It is time for new beginnings,” he said his voice cracking and reaching a falsetto pitch. The audience clapped some stood up. Sarah stood clapping and looked over to Neal who just shook his head.

“I've heard this same crap over and over. They send me to meetings like this all the time. I go, I sign in, I get a sponsor and when my sentence is over I dump the whole thing like a bad idea.”

“The professor is a really good speaker. I felt as if his words were meant just for me.”

“Okay, believe,” he mocked the professor's falsetto voice, “Believe if you want. Me, I am going to just yes them until they let me go home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, you know the place with your bed.” He winked and smiled, trying to dial up his notorious charm.

Sarah turned to him and sat down, as she did the professor began passing out folders of information and repeated over and over that the facilitator would soon be there. “After your personal meeting with him you will be sent on your way.” Several women up front began to weep and hug one another.

An old man in the back leaning on a chair for support cried, “This is what I have been waiting for all my life!”

“You haven't figured out where you are, have you?”

“A meeting. Look, I am forced to go to these things all the time. I drink too much and get in trouble. I probably had another accident last night and this is where the judge sent me. No big deal. You get some points on your license. You can't get insurance, but so what; lots of people don't have insurance.”

Sarah stood in front of Neal and slowly slid the sleeves of her sweatshirt up revealing two long gashes running laterally up her arms from the wrist to mid forearm.

“Damn! What the hell?”

“Last night, I was alone again, by myself with no one, no friends, no family, nothing, the pain of loneliness was too much for me. So I filled the tub, drank some wine and took a box cutter and sliced my arms. Last night I bled to death in my bathtub. I am dead, you are dead, we all are dead. I laid there in my tub waiting for someone to come save me, but that only happens in stories, books, and movies. In real life you slit your wrists and you die.”

“All these people are dead? Are you out of your mind? Get away from me.” He pushed her away.

“So Neal, do you remember last night? What is the last thing you remember before coming to the meeting?”

“I was at work. I had just made arrangements to meet Sheila over at her place. I had started drinking early and continued through the night as I worked. I closed up the bar then got in to my car. There were headlights, screaming, a burning sensation. My god, what did I do?”

An older couple came up to Neal. “So you are Neal. We are the Sampson's. This is my husband of fifty two years, Leo and I'm Ida. We just wanted you to know that we hold no ill feelings toward you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, we know that it was the demon rum, the drink that made you loose control and crash in to our Pontiac.”

“It was a good car.”

“Yes, Leo it was, but it is gone now. No need for earthly trappings where we are going. No hard feelings.” She held her small hand out.

Neal started to have convulsions and collapsed.

“Is there a problem here?” A very distinguished man the professor had been addressing as the facilitator came over to the group. Putting his arm around Sarah's shoulder, “Sarah, everything will be fine. You can call me Peter.”