J-A-C-K. 


“Yeah, he is on the list,” Const. Fedorapolo flips through his notebook again. 

“What list?”

“You’ll know when it's time. So who is Jack to you?”

“My sponsor. He WAS my sponsor.”


So, I was doing the steps with Jack, and Step 4 is to write down my defects. I believe in full honesty and I also believed in discretion, so I let the cat out of the bag that I was the author of the stories, now published in short story collections, and he felt so disgusted that he chose to discontinue the sponsor/sponsee relationship right away. It felt like being dumped by a lover. Sucks, but fortunately Step 5 technically doesn’t really need to involve a sponsor, and I set my sights on Jack’s AA BFF, William, a hottie who I somehow know has a family that owns land in the UK. And he is constantly checking me out from afar in meetings, saying Hi, checking in on Whatsapp, giving goodbye hugs. So Step 5 is to confess my defects to another person, and it is a perfect intimate moment to break open the floodgates of Will’s heart with my vulnerability, humility and sincerity, I did leave the secret author part out though. I moved him to tears, I pulled him towards me, and my countryside home dream is a step closer. I can feel the hand of my Higher Power nudging me towards this endpoint. I can feel the reward of my sobriety is helping me fulfill my potential and achieve my goals.


“Okay, I am going to stop you here. I’m pretty sure the 12 steps isn’t about external rewards? I think what you said is probably from a self-help book.” Fedorapolo interrupted. 

“Maybe you are right. I was doing research for my short stories and probably read that somewhere. But how are you certain what you said is right, are you in the programme too?” 

“Shhh… We are not supposed to talk about it.” He giggles. “But there is a reason I was assigned the task of… er… getting to know you.”

“Okay, nice to meet you. Thank you for spending the time. It has been a little lonely here.”

“So now Jack is out of the picture, anything more about Will?”

“Yes, he asked me to move in with him.”

“That’s pretty quick, you mean move in with him here in Glasgow?”

“Here IS Glasgow?

“...Let's get back to Will… He asked you to move in with him back in Hong Kong?”

“Yes, it was just a rental. But at least I get to live in a home with its own bathroom.”

“How did it come about?”

“Well, first things first, I both hate and love what Jack said in the fellowship business meeting. He outed me as the secret author behind the not so flattering AA stories.”

“Can you elaborate a bit? How are these stories not so flattering?”

“Let’s say… the stories are less propaganda and more of a soapy tragedy vibe. Tragic stories sell, and I thought readers are smart enough to know those sad endings about the programme not working are manufactured for their entertainment. I thought that writing about the Steps from a different perspective, gaining new audiences, is another way to do service.”

“Well, you know, they don’t really need product placements in the media, there’s a tradition which sort of tells you not to.”

“Yeah, Will told me.”

“Wait, I thought you didn’t tell him about this.”

“I didn’t tell him when I was doing my Step 5. But you didn’t let me finish my story about Jack outing me.”

“Oh, right, please continue.”

“He asked a bunch of old timers to read my stories, and noticed too much similarities between the words on the page and members’ and speakers’ sharing. I got a little complacent and thought the pseudonym will shield me from any fallout, I included too many IRL details...”

“Well that isn’t enough dear… if crosstalk isn't encouraged at the meetings, I can imagine how they feel seeing their shameful unforgiving pasts being printed on paper for the public to read about. There’s going to be some friction.”

“Yeah, the fellowship sort of turned on me, and people no longer greeted me at meetings; they wouldn't bar me from attending, but there are little passive aggressive things that let me know I’m not welcomed, I think I broke the record for the quietest applause when they presented me the 1 year chip. They also did send their message through Will, in case I’m too dumb to figure it out - That it’s unbecoming of me to be an author in that way.”

“How did Will take it?”

“He told me it’s better to find another home group. And also asked me to move in with him because he forgives me, and knows I wasn’t intentionally trying to cast the fellowship in a bad light. He is very sweet, he thinks by providing me with a new home to stay sober is his way of carrying out his 12th Step, with extra benefits of course. “

“So did you find a new home group?”

“I tried to go to a new room, but I still feel people are uneasy with my attendance, I felt like I was being reduced to a hollow shell there. No one is a saint, I can’t blame people for gossiping.”


Lydia stopped going to meetings altogether, and turned to self help books to support her sobriety; William’s love and presence in her life helped out a big deal of course. Occasionally, she would read Will’s stack of AA literature, fill out the Step guide worksheets for fun, and both of them would have a laugh at those misguided attempts to get through the Steps. Sometimes Lydia would pick up on the finer points of the programme, and that’s good enough for Will; he had tried, but he can’t be objective enough to be her sponsor; he can compartmentalize love and his own spirituality, but there are times when he feels tested when choosing between going to a meeting and going to pick up a distraught Lydia after she had a bad day at the office. He always chose going to meetings, and she never bore any resentment or relapse; the ritual of preparing a home cooked dinner for Will and ending the night in the arms of a loving Brit seemed to be enough to hold off any urges. Having a book deal is also a significant, though different, type of milestone for a sober Lydia. 


“What’s the book about?”  

“Some corny crime romance between an addict con woman and a man of the cloth.” Pretty obvious how she came up with the idea. “But the book didn’t sell as well as I hoped.”

“Was it hard on you mentally?”

“It didn't really matter. Having the opportunity to write this book is a sign that my Higher Power has forgiven me and didn’t abandon me, so I respected His generosity by keeping my day count intact. I am so grateful for having my Higher Power in my life, I never thought I would achieve so much as an author, English being my second language and such, yet everytime I pick up a pen, I can write amazing stories, the process is like having Him dictate the stories to my ears.”

“Or, you were just recalling things you heard in the rooms… I digress…” A disgusted Federopolo muttered his breath, feeling fortunate he was never in the same meetings with Lydia, otherwise his job would be under scrutiny. “So, let’s get back to William, he is William Sparrow, right?”

W-I-L-L-I-A-M-S-P-A-R-R-O-W.

These 14 letters cleave through Lydia’s head like a machete that has slain a thousand beasts, the edge is dull, and it doesn’t cut, it rips apart her skull violently. She recites the serenity prayer, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…” Only to be rebuffed by a blinding light, “You have been asking and asking me for more and more, I have nourished you again and again, shielded you again and again, and yet you have not passed on goodwill or kindness, so no, I will not grant you serenity.” 


With a thunderous clap, the light dumped me back into the endless black void where I had started.