I shrugged. “I’m not really sure. You know, it’s not like I ever plan out what I’m gonna say. I used to give two meetings a day to a football field full of people. I did it for almost five years, and I can’t remember a single time that I ever thought about what I was going to say before I actually said it. I usually had a topic or two that needed to be hit on, but that was about the extent of it. Everything else was spur of the moment.
“You know, there’s something that just happens to me when I stand before a crowd. It’s hard to describe, but it’s like all of a sudden everything becomes very clear. My thoughts start rolling off my tongue without even thinking about them. One thought just leads to another and then I get on a roll.
“But to answer your question, I’d probably use reverse psychology on them, explain how letting me go on a furlough is good for their own recovery. That life, as a whole, isn’t fair, and that they should get used to it now in a controlled environment. Then I’d follow it up by making them feel bad for me—telling them what I did to my wife on the stairs and how my family was on the verge of being destroyed because of my drug addiction, and how having this visit now would probably make the difference between my wife and me staying together or not.”
My therapist smiled. “I think you should figure out a way to put your abilities to good use; figure out some way where you get your message across, except this time do it for the greater good, not to corrupt people.”
“Ahhh,” I said, smiling back, “so you’ve been listening to me all these weeks. I wasn’t sure. Anyway, maybe I will one day, but for right now I just wanna get back to my family. I plan on getting out of the brokerage business altogether. I have a few investments to wind down and then I’m done forever. I’m done with the drugs, the hookers, the cheating on my wife, all the crap with the stocks, everything. I’m gonna live out the rest of my life quietly, out of the limelight.”
She started to laugh. “Well, somehow, I don’t think your life’s gonna turn out that way. I don’t think you’re ever gonna live in obscurity. At least not for very long. I don’t mean that in a bad way. What I’m trying to say is that you have a wonderful gift, and I think it’s important for your recovery that you learn to use that gift in a positive way. Just focus on your recovery first—and stay sober—and the rest of your life will take care of itself.”
I dropped my head and stared at the floor and nodded. I knew she was right, and I was scared to death about it. I desperately wanted to remain sober, but I knew the odds were heavily against me. Admittedly, after learning more about AA it no longer seemed like a patent impossibility, just a long shot. The difference between success and failure, it seemed, had a lot to do with getting grounded into AA as soon as you left rehab—finding a sponsor you identified with, someone to offer hope and encouragement when things weren’t going your way.
“How about my furlough?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“I’ll bring it up at tomorrow’s staff meeting. At the end of the day, it’s not up to me, it’s up to Dr. Talbot.” She shrugged. “As your primary therapist I can veto it, but I won’t. I’ll abstain.”
I nodded in understanding. I would talk to Talbot before they had their meeting. “Thank you for everything,” I said. “You’ve only got me for another week or so. I’ll try to stay out of your hair.”
“You’re not in my hair,” she replied. “In fact, you’re my favorite, although I’d never admit it to anyone.”
“And I won’t tell anyone.” I leaned over and hugged her gently.
It was five days later, a Friday, in fact, a little before six p.m., and I was waiting on the tarmac at the private terminal at Atlanta International Airport. I was leaning against the rear bumper of a black stretch Lincoln limousine, staring up into the northern sky through sober eyes. I had my arms folded beneath my chest and an enormous erection in my pants. I was waiting for the Duchess.
I was ten pounds heavier than when I’d arrived, and my skin glowed once more with youth and health. I was thirty-four and I had survived the unspeakable—a drug addiction of biblical proportions, a drug addiction of such insanity that I should have died long ago, of an overdose or a car accident or a helicopter crash or a scuba-diving accident or one of a thousand other ways.
Yet here I stood, still retaining all my faculties. It was a beautiful, clear evening with a tiny, warm breeze. At this time of the day, this close to summer, the sun was still high enough in the sky that I was able to catch sight of the Gulfstream long before its wheels touched the runway. It seemed almost impossible that inside that cabin was my beautiful wife, who I’d put through seven years of drug-addicted hell. I wondered what she was wearing and what she was thinking. Was she as nervous as I was? Was she really as beautiful as I remembered? Would she still smell as glorious? Did she still really love me? Could things ever be the same?
I found out the moment the cabin door opened and the luscious Duchess emerged with her fabulous mane of shimmering blond hair. She looked gorgeous. She took a single step forward, and then, in typical Duchess fashion, she struck a pose, with her head cocked to one side and her arms folded beneath her breasts and one long bare leg slewed out to the side, in a statement of defiance. Then she just stared at me. She had on a tiny pink sundress. It was sleeveless and a good six inches above her knee. Still holding her pose, she compressed those luscious lips of hers and started shaking her little blond head back and forth, as if to say, “I can’t believe this is the man I love!” I took a step forward and threw my palms up in the air and shrugged.
And we just stood there, staring at each other for a good ten seconds, until all at once she gave up her pose and blew me a world-class double kiss. Then she spread her arms out, did a little pirouette to announce her arrival to the city of Atlanta, and came running down the stairs with a great smile on her face. I started running toward her, and we met in the middle of the asphalt tarmac. She threw her arms around my neck and took a tiny jump and wrapped her legs around my waist. Then she kissed me.
And we held that kiss for what seemed like an eternity as we breathed in each other’s scent. I spun around in a 360, still kissing her, until we both started giggling. I pulled my lips away and buried my nose into her cleavage and sniffed at her, like a puppy dog. She giggled uncontrollably. She smelled so good it seemed almost impossible.
I pulled my head back a few inches and stared into those vivid blue eyes of hers. I said, in a dead-serious tone: “If I don’t make love to you right this second, I’m gonna come right here on the tarmac.”
The Duchess’s response was to revert to her baby voice: “Aw, my poor little boy!” Little? Unbelievable!“You’re so horny you’re about to burst, aren’t you?”
I nodded eagerly.
The Duchess went on: “And look how young and handsome you look now that you’ve gained a few pounds and your skin’s not green anymore. Too bad I have to teach you a lesson this weekend.” She shrugged. “There’ll be no lovemaking until July Fourth.”
Huh? “What are you talking about?”
In a very knowing tone: “You heard me, love-bug. You’ve been a very bad boy, so now you’re gonna have to pay the price. First you have to prove yourself to me before I let you stick it in again. For now you only get to kiss me.”
I giggled. “Get out of here, you nut!” I grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the limousine. “I can’t wait until July Fourth! I need you now—right this second! I wanna make love in the back of the limousine.”
“Nope, nope, nope,” she said, shaking her head back and forth in an exaggerated way. “It’s only kisses this weekend. Let’s see how you behave over the next two days, and then maybe on Sunday I’ll think about going further.”
The limo driver was a short, sixtyish, white cracker named Bob. He wore a formal driver’s cap, and he was standing by the rear door, waiting for us. I said, “This is my wife, Bob. She’s a duchess, so treat her accordingly. I bet you don’t get that much royalty down here, now, do you?”