Peggy came in with Greta’s cup of tea and sat down again. They really had very little to say these days. They’d sat for hours, days, leaned on each other and talked shit in those last months of drinking after there were suddenly two of them. Talked nothing but shit. Never stopped. Schemed. Worked out how they would take over the world. Worried at each other – at the world. Fought everything. Fought each other. But since they’d got sober, they spent more and more time quiet. Looking at each other but with nothing to say. They talked about the shop and the meetings. They prayed together, tried to meditate. But there was so little to say. It might have been because of how fragile everything felt. There wasn’t really a safe topic. The future seemed so foggy. There was nothing ahead but more drinking. It didn’t seem possible that two fuck-ups like them could stay sober. It just seemed ridiculous. So, it was best not to look.

Which left only the past, but what a terrifying corner of the dark that was. Was it a good idea to talk about the things that had happened? It was all so dotted and pitted and black in some areas and too bright in others. They didn’t remember much but what they did remember was horrible and it made them thirsty. So, they only had right now, maybe this morning, maybe what they would have for dinner, and it got old.

They were buoying each other up constantly. They wanted to not drink so badly, they pretended a lot to each other. Making out they were happier than they were. It wasn’t meant to be like this. They wanted so much for each other to stay sober. They didn’t want to do anything to threaten the other, so they acted happy. There was no space for being unhappy or discontented. That was dangerous. Ungrateful people drank again. Someone had told them that for nothing. So, they lied.

Maybe later. When they were more secure, when they didn’t feel like it would all fall apart with the slightest push, they could tell the truth to each other, but for now it had to be like this, false smiles – faking it until they made it. And maybe it wasn’t such a lie if it was helping to keep them both alive. There were times neither of them wanted to go to a meeting – times when they’d come home from work tired and low, but they did it for each other. Said, ‘Time to go, then, I guess,’ and the other one would say, ‘Yeah. I’ll just get our bag.’ Neither of them was any good at internal motivation. Neither of them could do this without the other and maybe that was why they spent more and more time in silence or talking about the weather.