Margaret moved off and a few other people introduced themselves to Frank, some offering advice.
A big, burly guy said, "I been sober twenty-eight years and I don't believe a fuckin' word about God. But I believe in AA and the power of the group and that's what gets me through."
A heavy blonde offered, "Honey, God's always there. We turn our backs on Him but He's always there waiting with open arms. When you're ready to turn to Him, He'll be right there for you."
Frank nodded, anxious she'd get cornered by a rabid Christer. But in six months that hadn't happened yet. AA people seemed to have a very laissez faire attitude about God, passionate about what they believed in but never foisting their passions onto her. She appreciated that, because if someone had tried to force-feed her a god she'd have been out the door faster than the old wino.
Edging toward the exit, she bumped into Margaret with a cluster of women.
"We always go for dessert after the meeting. Won't you come with us?"
Frank sucked in a deep breath. Mary also advised her to accept invitations when offered. She said the meetings after the meetings taught you how to talk without a glass in your hand and helped keep you sober another hour or two.
Sucking in a deep breath no one could see, Frank answered, "Sure. That'd be great."
CHAPTER 27
Frank only had coffee with the ladies, and to celebrate having gone out with them when she didn't really want to, she brought another pint of Ben and Jerry's back to the apartment. Annie was on the phone when Frank let herself in. Curled on the couch in her fuzzy blue robe, hair wet and slicked back, Annie lifted her chin in greeting.
Scooping ice cream into a mug, Frank heard her say, "Awright, Carmy. Thanks. I love you."
The phone clacked against its cradle and Frank looked into the living room. Annie was fetal on the couch. "You okay?"
"I don't know. Who can do this job so long and be okay?"
"Would some ice cream help?"
"What flavor?"
"Wavy Gravy."
"Bring it here."
Frank stuck a spoon in the carton and handed it over.
Annie struggled to a sitting position. "I got called in after you left. Mother beat her baby with a hammer. Wouldn't stop crying. Not the first time I heard that excuse. I don't know. It just got to me tonight. All the time I'm bookin' her this woman's gripin' about her baby this and her baby that. I tell you, Frank, it was all I could do to keep from rippin' her tongue out and stuffin' it down her throat. I swear to God." Squinting at a clock on the mantle, Annie said, "Nine months, two weeks, five days, twelve hours and I'm pullin' the pin. I'm gonna retire in Florida and swim in the ocean. Eat whatever I want, whenever I want, get fat, and watch Oprah. I'm sick a this shit. You hear me? Sick of it. Absolutely sick of it. Day in, day out. I can't do it no more. Ain't enough gold in Fort Knox to keep me here." After a bite of ice cream she mumbled, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't take this out on you."
"No problem. That's probably how you stay sane, huh?"
Casting a sharp glance at Frank, she quizzed, "Do I look sane to you?"
Frank grinned. "From where I sit you look pretty well-adjusted."
Annie kept her tired gaze on Frank. "You miss the drinking?"
"Yeah," Frank admitted. "I do. It's like walking around with a big hole in my heart. My sponsor says the hole is God-shaped, that only God can fill it. But I don't get God. Can't wrap my mind around it."
Annie tapped her chest. "She's right. God lives in here. Not here." She tapped her head.
Frank put her feet up on the coffee table. "So let me ask you. Where's your Mary on a night like this? Why does she let a woman hammer her kids to death?"
"Psh. I can't answer that. Theologians can't answer that. There are mysteries we don't know. I can't explain evil. It's like porn—I can't explain it but I know it when I see it. I can't presume to know more than God. I just have to believe there's a reason for all this crap. Just because I can't see the big picture don't mean there isn't one. Like people thinkin' the world was flat, right? Just because they couldn't believe in a round world don't mean it didn't exist." The room was quiet while the women sucked on their spoons. "It's faith. I have faith there's reasons for this crap, much as I hate it. I believe it happens for reasons that are completely unknown to me. My job is just to clean up the mess and move on to the next job. Beyond that, I got no friggin' clue."
"And that helps you? To talk about it all? The dead babies and stupidity and senselessness?"
"You're damn right it does. My friend Bee—she works at the DA's office—we take turns unloading on each other. That was my sister Carmen I was talkin' to. God bless her, she listens to more of this than she should have to. And my friend Pat, too. We went through our rookie year together. We still get together every couple a weeks for lunch. I don't know what I'd do without 'em."
"I'm jealous."
"Yeah." Annie sighed. "Truth a the matter is, I'm damn lucky. I got my health. I got my family. I got my friends. At the end of watch, that's really all that matters."
"Miss having a man around?"
"Oh, yeah, sometimes. But not enough to do anythin' about it. I date now and then. It's kinda fun but it don't go nowhere. Maybe someday when I'm not so focused on work I'll want one around. But for now, I barely have time for the family I already got. Besides, I need any heavy liftin', I call my son, Ben. What else I need man for?"
"Open pickle jars."
"Psh." Annie waved. "Slam 'em on the counter. You ever do that? Hold the jar upside down and give it a smart crack on the countertop? Works nine times outta ten and I don't have to put the seat down on the toilet."
Frank laughed and so did Annie.
"Can you beat it? The lesbian's givin' me advice on why I should need a man around. Ah, brother. See what I mean? Another mystery. They're everywhere. Hey," Annie said, hefting the carton. "Thanks for this."
"No sweat.
"What I can't figure is, why don't you have a nice lady waitin' for you at home? You cook, you clean, you got a good heart, you're employed ..."
"I used to. Gave her up for the bottle."
"Ahh, that's a shame," Annie said shaking her head, digging into the carton.
"Yeah. She's a good woman. She deserved better."
"You straighten up and fly right, cookie. You got a lot to offer someone."
Frank grinned. "Think so?"
"Hey, don't go fishin'. What are you doin' out so late anyway?"
"Went to a meeting then went out for coffee afterward. It was nice."
"Good for you. That AA thing's workin' for ya?"
"Seems to be."
"Good. You stick wit' it. Told you about my nephew, right? Worked miracles for him. I seen it work for others, too. Tougher nuts 'an you."
Ice cream and talk settled the women down and soon they headed for bed. For the first time in at least a year Frank slept straight through the night.
CHAPTER 28
Sunday, 16 Jan 05—Canarsie
Here I am. Sitting in a cemetery. Guess it beats lying in one. Grumpy sky. Looks like more snow on the way. Got to admit I don't miss the dirty slush plowed up against the curb.
Quiet yesterday. Couple funerals but no one near the grave.
Went to a good meeting last night and afterward went out with a couple ladies. I was of course the youngest one there. They had twelve, ten and seven years of sobriety on me. Felt like a four-year-old hanging out with her sister from Vassar. But it was nice. They're pretty serious about their sobriety. Talked a lot about the "G" word. They all reiterated that if I was willing to believe then eventually I would. That's the thing, though. Am I willing to believe in something greater than myself? Why am I so stubborn about this? Christ, that business at Mother Love's should be enough to convince anybody. Why not me? Self-reliance almost bought me a bullet to the brain. Why can't I just say, yeah, okay, uncle, there's something bigger out there than me?