I woke up the same way I crashed out. A blank fucking page.
I went through the motions. Coffee. AA meeting. Coffee. Meeting with my sponsor. Coffee. Women’s meeting. Coffee.
Then, the awaited text from Lars arrived.
We had plans to go bowling this afternoon prior to our “fight,” or whatever the fuck it was, yesterday evening. So, I wasn’t too sure how the day was going to go. I knew that I wasn’t going to text or call him. That I knew. I kinda figured that Lars was the type of dude that, while he’s pretty awesome and upstanding, might try to hold his ground even though he had none to stand on. It’s hard to know people’s fight strategies when you’ve never seen them in that context before. So, I waited. And, when his text of semi-apology came, I was expecting to feel relief. But nope, still nothing. I felt nothing.
I am a huge, skin vacuum.
I figured that since he was the bigger man, admitting where he’d been wrong, I’d be the bigger woman too. So we decided we’d still meet up to bowl. But, in all honesty, I didn’t really want to, not with him anyway. I wanted to go roll alone. Feel the clattering pins. Feel the lane vibrate as my gutter ball rolls ever forward. I didn’t want to see Lars because I didn’t know what to say. Because, I didn’t know what I felt, and even more to the point, I didn’t really even understand how we’d gotten to the point we did in the first place.
I got there early and sat at a table with my coat on, inhaling hot dog fumes and watching kids scarf down circles of bread, sauce, and cheese that only vaguely resembled pizza. Then, Lars walked in with his bowling bag and a concerned expression. He didn’t know how to act either. He didn’t know if I was going to stay or go. I could feel that, which was a start.
Without being dramatic, he set out to make things right. Eventually making a legitimate apology which seemed to pain him only slightly. And, even though I was still feeling a little bit burned, I knew that I had to forgive him. I’ve learned in sobriety that there are some battles that are worthy of the fight, and some that aren’t. And, pain us alchies as it may, sometimes you just gotta let shit go.
It took five games for me to really let go of my grudge. I could feel Lars’ impatience. He’d said sorry, I’d accepted, why couldn’t I just have fun and go back to being to my old, fun self?
Well, Lars had been a fuckin’ pinhead. Sometimes, when you get a pinhead, it isn’t about sorry. It’s about knockin’ em down, and settin’ ’em back up. And, if it takes five games then, motherfucker, it takes five games.