The Pretty Lady and the Cowboy (Songs from the Heart) (18 page)

“That first AA meeting he attended was about five years ago. I can’t say he instantly stopped drinking or that his path has been straight and narrow since then. But I can tell you that he’s been sober for over three years. He’s usually on the road so much that he just catches AA meetings wherever he happens to be performing. But we’ve kept in touch. And I know he keeps in touch with other AA friends across the country. I’m one of his AA sponsors—he calls us his angels. We give him the support he needs when he’s under a lot of stress and tempted to give in to old demons.”

“He told me his angels had helped him stay sober,” I said, “but I had no idea he was talking about real people.”

I thought back to the after-concert party. A waiter had been offering him a glass of champagne when Angie took his arm and steered him away. The sexy dress, the way she held onto his arm—had those just been part of an act designed to make her look like a girlfriend instead of an AA sponsor whose mission was keeping him sober?

“And his wife?” I asked. I wanted any information she could give me. Really, I just wanted to keep her talking about Levi.

“His ex-wife,” Angie said. “She went back home to Texas and is happily married with a new baby. Levi doesn’t talk about her much anymore, but from what he said years ago at AA meetings, I know that even beyond the issue of his drinking, they weren’t the happiest of couples. Levi had really become a larger-than-life star, and Lisa, his ex, couldn’t handle living in the spotlight with him.”

I thought about how the pressures of fame might hurt a relationship. Could a couple have a normal relationship when they were either living apart or living on the road for weeks on end? How hard would it be to live in a sort of fishbowl where every fashion choice, every remark, every action, was dissected by the media? I wondered how I might respond to pressures like that.

Then I thought about the places Levi had taken me, quiet places where he could escape the public eye if only for a short time. That was one magical side of Levi, his love of quiet times away from the spotlight. But the Levi I had seen on stage, that vibrant, exciting, totally alive public persona, was his other and equally magical side. I was in love with both sides of Levi. And I was afraid to admit it to either. But I certainly wasn’t going to confess my feelings to this woman I’d only just met.

“And now?” I asked. “Is there someone new in his life?”

“He’s on the road six months of the year. And he’s a guy, not a saint. He did tell me about meeting you, though—and that’s rare. He’s not one to talk about the women he meets. He told me I could answer any questions you might have.”

At that moment, I had too many questions to count. I just sat there, listening, eager for any information Angie could give me about Levi.

“I’m a friend, not a psychologist,” she went on, “but I know that when he crashed his car, he hurt someone he loved very much. And I think the price of not doing that again has been not letting himself fall in love, keeping even the possibility of love at a distance.”

And that meant exactly what I had always figured a relationship with Levi would mean. Heaven. For a few days. Period. End of story. I told myself that it was for the best that I had told Levi I couldn’t see him while he was still in town. It was for my own good. I had to stop thinking about him. I had to stop remembering how it felt to be in his arms. What Angie said only confirmed everything I already knew and everything I knew I couldn’t change.

Plus, right now, my sister had to come first. Her whole future was at stake. With help, maybe the direction of her life was something I 
could
change. At least, I had to try.

“Right now I’ve got to focus on my sister, Ally,” I said. “I’ve got to do whatever it takes to help her.”

“There’s a fine line between helping and enabling,” Angie said. And she let that sink in for a few seconds before she said, “Tell me a little bit about Ally.”

And so I did. I told her about rescuing Ally from the frat party. I told her about giving Ally the reward of an off-campus apartment in exchange for her promise not to drink and how that hadn’t worked. I told her about the call I’d gotten from the police station after her drinking buddy had crashed the car they’d been riding in. And I told her about my hope that I could solve Ally’s drinking problem with some tough rules. I told her about last night. And finally, I confided that I’d just learned that my own mother had had a problem with alcohol.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “My dad always told me to keep family problems in the house. Now I see why.”

“But can you also see that sometimes keeping family secrets may not be the best course?” Angie asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said. It was hard to let go of a principle that my dad had lived by and that he had insisted we all live by.

“What if your mother had gotten some outside help? Might her life have been different?”

I had no idea. Had my dad always been there to rescue her? Certainly he had made sure Ally and I never suspected that anything was wrong. Had my mother always had a drinking problem? I thought of all the times Mom had stayed in bed in the morning while Dad made breakfast for us. He had smiled and told us that “Mommy’s just not a morning person.” But what had really been going on? Had he been covering up for her hangovers? Had he crossed that line where helping became enabling?

And what about Ally? What about the little “escapades” he’d told me about, always with a chuckle? I could only think that having lost his wife to alcohol, he was in complete denial that his younger daughter could have the same problem. But if only he had told me, given me some indication, then I might have been more prepared to help.

I thought back. No, I had to admit that even though I’d seen Ally drinking heavily as often as I had, I had always drawn the line at using the world “alcoholic” to describe her. I had been in denial, too.

As Angie watched me consider her question, an entirely new thought took shape in my mind, a shocking thought: If my mother had received some counseling, perhaps been in some program like AA, she might still be alive! For the second time today, the world as I had always known it was shattering. I felt my eyes fill with tears for all the years with my mother that I had lost, that Ally had lost.

But I couldn’t talk about my mother. I just couldn’t bear to look back right now. I had to look forward.

I did my best to pull myself together. “What can I do to help Ally?” I asked.

“All I can do is tell you what worked for me,” she said.

There it was again. Levi had said nearly the same thing.

“One thing that Alcoholics Anonymous taught me,” Angie said, “is that each of us has to find his or her own path. Even if you are an alcoholic whose parents and grandparents and great-grandparents were all alcoholics, taking a drink or not taking a drink is
your
responsibility, and yours alone. Only you can make the decision to remain sober. At AA, we don’t preach, we don’t judge, we don’t blame. We listen, we offer support. We share our own stories. I’d be glad to talk with Ally if you want. She may find it easier to speak with another female who has had her own struggles with alcohol. I have to warn you, though—recovering from an alcohol addiction is not an easy path. And there may be many relapses before she stays sober for good.”

“I have to pick her up about five today,” I said. “I don’t know what to expect.”

I paused. “Is there any chance you could come with me?” I don’t know what made me ask. I only knew that so far nothing I had tried by myself had worked.

She pulled out her iPhone and checked her calendar. “I have to be at a meeting at seven, but yes, I can come with you at five.” I gave her the address and she said she’d meet me there.

“I don’t know how I can thank you,” I said. I was overwhelmed. The woman I’d been so suspicious of, so jealous of, was generously offering to help the sister of a complete stranger.

“No need,” she said simply. “This is what I do. Helping other people is part of what keeps me sober and what makes me whole. See you at five.”

And she got up and left. I watched her go for a second, in awe of the way fate had put her right smack dab in my path at exactly the right moment.

# # # # #

On my way to pick up Ally, I had let myself hope that the past day and a half would have taught her something. Surely the nurses would have explained to her that she might have died from the amount of alcohol that had been in her blood. Surely the idea of facing death would have changed her in some deep and profound way. Surely I’d find her more subdued. Surely this would be a teachable moment.

But when I arrived, I could hear her voice as I came down the hall. She definitely didn’t sound sorry. She sounded whiney and annoyed—annoyed with the hospital for “making me feel like a child,” and annoyed that she had to wait around “until my jailer—oh, excuse me, I mean
sister”
could come to get her. I felt my own annoyance building inside me, the kind that only a sibling can provoke. I was going to need every bit of patience I could muster just to walk into her room.

Fortunately, Angie was waiting for me outside Ally’s door. At least there would be a buffer between us.

“I am SO done with this place,” were Ally’s first words when Angie and I walked in. Gee, good thing I had a brought company or she might have told me what she really thought. She looked pale and dark circles ringed her eyes. Without her usual makeup on, she looked younger than her nineteen years. But her face looked haggard and tired. I tried hard to stay calm.

“Ally, this is Angie,” I said.

“So?” she replied sullenly, barely giving Angie a glance.

Angie jumped right in. “I’ve had some experience with drinking too much. I thought maybe we could have a chat.”

“So far, my main problem seems to be that I haven’t managed to drink enough,” Ally said. “People keep interrupting.”

“And if you did manage to drink enough?” Angie asked. She might have been asking about the weather or inquiring what was for dinner that night. Her tone was completely emotionless and non-judgmental.

“Just get me out of here so I can find out,” Ally said.

I had no idea how to fit into their dialogue. I’d gone from believing that strict rules could turn her behavior around to not knowing how to talk to her about anything. She felt like a stranger.

Angie gave Ally an authoritative look that seemed to quiet her down, at least for the moment, and then turned to me.

“Just let us have couple of minutes,” she said. She gestured to the door to suggest that I leave for a bit.

I was more than ready to let someone else try to communicate with my sister. I turned away and walked out of the room and down the hall to a small waiting room. I was so steaming mad at Ally’s attitude that I don’t know what I would have said to her if I’d stayed.

I was out of earshot, so I have no idea what Angie and Ally said to each other, but about fifteen minutes later I saw them both coming out of the room. Ally didn’t look happy, but at least it seemed she had shed the attitude of defiance and anger.

I gave Angie a questioning look and she said, “I told Ally a story.”

“Yes?” I said, waiting to hear more.

“My own,” Angie said. She didn’t look inclined to continue. Evidently that story wasn’t one she told just anyone.

Ally turned to me. “I told Angie I’d come tomorrow night,” she said, looking suddenly unsure of herself. “If you’d come with me.”

“To the AA meeting at First Lutheran,” Angie said, seeing my puzzled look.

“Of course, I’ll come,” I said, giving Ally a quick sideways hug. Even if I didn’t know what to say to her, what to do for her, I could at least be there for her.

But even as I spoke the words, a voice inside me was protesting, “
No
,
not tomorrow night! Not Saturday night
!
Not the night of Levi’s last concert!
” Despite what I’d said to Levi, there was a piece of me that still hoped that I could somehow get to the concert, somehow use the ticket he had given me, somehow see him one last time.

And I guess in my heart of heart of hearts, so deep inside I almost couldn’t admit it to myself, I hoped that ticket might do something magical, maybe open the doors to love and romance the way the golden ticket had opened the doors to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.

“Thanks, Kitty,” Ally said. Her words snapped me back to the real world in a hurry. She’d actually said thank you. And nicely, too. I began to have a glimmer of hope for the future, hers and mine. Those were the only two I could concentrate on right now.

I signed Ally out at the nurse’s station. No one said good-bye. I don’t think the nurses were at all sorry to see her go, and from what I had heard coming down the hall, I can’t say that I blamed them.

As we reached the parking lot, Angie told us that tomorrow’s meeting started at eight p.m. and I told Ally I’d pick her up about seven-thirty. Angie waved and drove off in her black and white Mini Cooper convertible. I could see Ally was impressed with Angie’s choice of a car.

We, on the other hand, piled into Old Ray. Ray sputtered a bit the first few times I turned the ignition key, but I eventually got him started up and drove Ally back to her dorm, making a mental note to take Ray back to the garage sometime soon so Norm could look him over again.

Ally and I were both pretty quiet on the way. I made some small talk about the store, new shoe models, the fact that Jess was going to be my business partner. She mumbled some responses—“Yeah?” and “Gee, really?” and “Great!”—but I could tell she was hardly listening. I couldn’t make myself talk about the elephant in the room, or I guess I should say the elephant in the car. The topic we were avoiding, alcoholism, seemed to be crowding all other thoughts out of the small space and making real conversation impossible.

We both understood something had changed, though. Somehow Ally agreeing to go to the AA meeting had caused a shift in reality as we had known it. For the first time, she was admitting that she had a problem and I was admitting that she was the one who had to be in charge of solving it. We’d have to take things one step at a time.