“Bernard, I’m barely holding it together,” she quavered. “I … I need to get calmed down. I need something to take the edge off. I … I need … oh god ..”

“Willow – are you asking for … ?” Bernard was afraid to say what he was thinking.

“A couple of Lortabs would really help,” Willow whispered.

~o~O~o~

The next morning Willow was ready to propose that she be allowed a little more freedom. She looked all around the huge house but saw no trace of Gwen.

The teenager tried the intercom. “Momma? Where are you?”

“Hey Willow – I’m in Grandpa’s room. Come on down – I just helped him onto the toilet, so he’ll be in his bathroom for a bit.”

Willow found her unloading one of the many boxes they’d brought from Grandpa’s old apartment. This one seemed to have military things – a combat helmet, boots, and camo gear.

“It’s his old Vietnam souvenirs; he was in the Army in the mid-’60s there. I thought I’d try to make this room as much like home as possible to see if it would help stabilize his memory. Want to help?”

Willow knelt and dug through the box. She pulled out a jacket and noticed the arm. “Mom – what do these stripes mean?”

“He was a Sergeant First Class. That’s about all I know of his service; he never talked about the war.”

“MOM. LOOK,” Willow pulled out two lemon-shaped spheroids with handles and pins. “Are these still live? The pins are still in!”

“Dad told us kids these grenades were just shells, no explosive. They feel too light to me to be active. But don’t pull the pins out, okay?”

Suddenly the door to the guest bath opened. Grandpa John stood there with his pants down around his ankles; he started to step out into the room.

“DAD! NO!” Gwen ran and grabbed him by the chest before he could complete the attempted step. “Willow, help! Pull his pants up!”

Willow jumped into action. As she fastened his trousers around his waist, she felt his hand patting her on the head. “I love you, Susan,” Grandpa croaked.

The two women walked the elderly man back to his bed and guided him into it. “That was a close one,” Gwen whistled. “The last thing he needs is another fall.”

“Momma – when did he start being able to walk? I thought he was bound to the wheelchair.”

“We’ve been giving him heat and massage treatments to his back and hip; it looks like they’ve been working. I saw him get up out of bed by himself last night when I did my bedtime check on him.”

“So he can walk again! That’s good, right?”

“Yes – and no. If he walks, he might fall again unless someone’s here with him. Or he could get into trouble with his confusion – turn a stove burner on, walk out the back door get lost in the desert brush. I think we’ll have to be more alert; it’s going to take all of us staying here to keep him safe.”

“Oh. Okay. That may make my question moot.”

“Oh dear – you were seeking me out to ask me something, right? I’m so sorry, honey – what do you need?”

“I’m just asking: Has Dad talked with Bernard yet? I’d like to be able to go to some NA meetings more often; I feel I’m being a burden to Angie, she’s taken me to 3 already this week. Bernard goes, so he could take me.”

“Willow, your Poppa and I both will be meeting Bernard. I’m skeptical of this friend of yours, more so than your Poppa is. If I get any hint that he’s not on the straight and narrow, then I won’t approve. You dealt drugs with him and he slipped you a phone on the sly. God, as I say that I can’t believe that I’m not just saying “no” outright.”

~o~O~o~

BERNARD!

Yo Willow

MY FOLKS SAY I CAN GO UNSUPERVISED FOR SHORT PERIODS; THEY ARE OK WITH YOU TAKING ME TO N.A. MTGS! YAAAAY!

Awesome! Congrats dudette

U made good impression on Momma & Poppa yesterday. Thanks 4 coming over! She feels good about the new U, and your change 4 the better

U can thank NA and my sponsor 4 that change

So, when r u next going to mtg?

One today at 7pm. Wanna go?

YES, can u pick me up?

B there @ 6:30 ok?

C U then. Life so Gucci* now!

* good, cool

~o~O~o~

Bernard’s El Camino came through the gates of 4701 Las Hongas and drove up to the house.

Willow stood outside waiting for her ride. She wore a white sleeveless button-up blouse, a pleated skirt, clogs and a big smile. Hopping to the curb, she opened the passenger door and jumped in.

“So this is your car? Seems kinda gangsta,” commented the girl.

“It’s a kinda hand-me-down, take-what-i-can-get car,” Bernard replied. “It is a classic, though; a 1975 model. I had to rework the engine, and do a lot of other stuff on it. Caminos are odd cars – car in front, short truck bed in back. Ever ridden in one before?”

“No,” said Willow. “Bernard. You live in North Montanas. Yet you get a tiny allowance and drive a 40-year-old car. Why are your folks so bad to you? Don’t you have the balls to stand up to them?”

“Part of it is Dad’s beliefs. He was born poor; he had to work really hard to get to where he is today. Thinks I need to work as hard as he did to be successful. He wants me to be in business, but all I want to do is work on cars – that’s what turns me on. The other part is that when they caught me using drugs last year, dad reduced my allowance. I don’t disagree with what they did. So the state of my balls shouldn’t be in question.”

“Umm … what I said was harsh. Sorry. I’m still not as polished a girl as I’d like to be.” I’m nervous, she thought. Stop saying stupid stuff, Willow!

“No prob, and no offense taken dudette. We still can jab each other verbally for fun, can’t we?” – he glanced at her, flashing a huge smile. “Hey, here we are.”

Willow gasped. “Chula Vista Episcopal! Our church! This is where the NA meeting is tonight?”

“Yep. Every Saturday at this time. Like I said, a lot of recovered/recovering addicts come to services here; they have an outreach for people like us. And they host a couple of different NA meetings throughout the week.”

~o~O~o~

75 minutes later.

Bernard and Willow waited for their drinks at a local expresso shop, Java Casa. He got coffee with cream; she, herbal tea. They discussed the meeting.

“Okay, Momma just texted back. She’s ok as long as you get me back by 9:00.”

“Great, will do. So what did you think about the meeting, Willow? And hey, are you shivering?”

“Should’ve checked the weather and brought my sweater. The temperature’s really dropped since 7.”

“Here. Wear my coat, I’m fine. You’ll be better once you sip more of that hot tea.” He took off his jacket and slipped it on his female companion.

“Those meetings seem really helpful for you, and for those other addicts there. They don’t really apply to me so much,” Willow said. “ I – hey, Bern. What’s wrong?”

“Keep your head down, Willow,” Bernard urged in hushed tones. “And don’t say a word!”

She did as requested. Bernard looked concerned; Willow eyed him with curiosity and nervousness. Then she heard a new voice from behind her, off to the left.

“Heyyy, Bernie. Howzit hanging? OOPS – sorry. I forgot, you actually got to HAVE cojones to be able to ‘hang’, right?” So spoke a young man with a buzz haircut and a devious smile. He had a black leather jacket covering a black tee, and a big gold chain hung around his neck.

Bernard’s eyes were narrow with suspicion. “Well hi there, Rodrico Santos. What the hell brings you here? Just want to ruin my coffee time?”

Willow’s mental gears whirled furiously. Rodrico Santos. Where have I heard that name? - !! – THAT’S the guy, the junior at Montclair High, who’s been trying to take my place as drug supplier – Bernard told me about him in that first text back in August!

“Not gonna take long, chumpo,” said Rodrico. “You ever see your friend Willy? Or is he still under his stepfather’s thumb?”

“I wouldn’t know, Rico. His Mom won’t let me talk to him.”

“If you ever do, let him know I’m holding out a position as second lieutenant in my little supply chain I’m setting up; all I need are his contacts. He had such an organization, and I don’t wanna reinvent the wheel, ya know? If he don’t get back to me by the end of the year, the deal’s off. He’s a has-been anyway; I just want his damn name recognition.”

“Rico. Even if I could talk to him, I’m clean now. I don’t do drugs or have anything to do with them.”

“Suit yourself, buttwipe. Say, who’s this sweet piece of ass you got here? She any good in the sack?” Rico slipped into the booth seat Willow was in, forcing her to scoot over. “You ought to hang with me instead of this loser, sweets. I got something in my chinos that’ll make you scream; then after, I got something in my jacket that’ll get you higher than the moon.”

“Screw you, pendejo,” Willow spat.

“That wasn’t very nice, bitch,” growled Rico.

Bernard bolted to a standing stance, fists tight. “Keep away from her or they’ll take you out of here in an ambulance, Rico.”

Rico laughed big and long. “I just love getting under your skin, Bernie. You make it so easy.” He then got up and sauntered off.

Bernard was looking at his companion. “Willow … are you okay?”

The girl’s fingernails dug into the table, and her face was flushed red. She spoke in a low volume hiss. “That … BASTARD! A has-been, huh? He’ll ‘let’ me be a second lieutenant – just some f*** flunky to do the dirty work? F****** ASSHOLE! I ought to start getting the network back together – just to rub his damn nose in it!”

“Willow.”

“I know, I know, what about Mom and Stepdevil and my rules? Well F*** them! I’m not gonna stand by while some puke drags my name and rep through the dirt-“

“Willow.”

“WHAT??” she yelled, so loudly that everyone in the shop – including the baristas – turned and looked in their direction. Noticing, she became sheepish. “Uh, sorry everyone. Sorry. Um … ‘What’, Bernard?”

“You’re out of control with your anger. You need to get a grip.”

“Bernard, I’m barely holding it together,” she quavered. “I … I need to get calmed down. I need something to take the edge off. I … I need … oh god ..”

“Willow – are you asking for … ?” Bernard was afraid to say what he was thinking.

“A couple of Lortabs would really help,” Willow whispered.

Bernard silently stared into his friend’s eyes for the next few seconds, then:

“Girl. You know I can’t help you with that.”

“Bern, this is the worst anger I’ve felt since before I became Willow. My chest is about to explode; I want to scream, to kick out that plate glass window over there. Look at my hands – they won’t stop shaking! I can’t lose it – I’ll go to jail, or juvie! Please, please help me!”

“I’m not helping you get lortabs, or any chemical – you know that.”

“I know, I know! I can’t believe I’m hearing myself ask for them! But I can’t be like this either! God - someone help me!”

Bernard slipped out of his booth seat and slid onto Willow’s, next to her. He put his arm around her and gently nudged her head to lean on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be all right, Willow. Relax. Don’t hold on to your anger, let it go. He’s not worth it; he’s not worth your peace, your serenity, your sobriety. You’re gonna be okay, girl.”

“Don’t stop holding me, Bern. Don’t let go.”

Bernard didn’t let go; but he also took his left hand and pulled out his phone, and punched the speaker-dial option.

“Call Joe T.”

In half a minute, a voice emerged from the phone. “Yo, Bernard?”

“Joe. I’m at the Java Casa on Lamesa Street; I’ve got a friend here in crisis. I need an intervention. Can you come, like now?”

“Who’s that?” asked a still trembling Willow.

“My NA sponsor,” reassured Bern. “He said he’s on his way. He can help us.”

“You’re not gonna let go of me, are you, Bern?”

“Not a chance, Willow.”

~o~O~o~

Willow, Bernard and Joe T. sat sipping their drinks. Willow’s shaking had reduced to where she could hold her tea without spilling it. Bernard had just given Joe a quick rundown of the situation.

“So, you’re Bernard’s sponsor,” Willow spoke lowly. “Why are you helping me; do you get reimbursed some way for this?”

“Not with money. Service to the addict who still suffers – when I give it, it keeps me clean and sober,” Joe replied.

“So you’re saying I’m an addict?”

“You had a lortab use problem that put you in teenage jail. And tonight when you needed control of your anger, you had a huge craving for drugs. Sounds like an addict to me.”

Willow winced at the characterization. “But some of those guys and girls in the NA meeting tonight – they had been into really heavy drugs, and lost their jobs, or their marriages, or their kids due to it. Compared to them, my problem is tiny. I’m already feeling calmer – not normal, but better than twenty minutes ago.”

Joe tilted his head towards the cashier at the shop. “See that girl at the register? What do you notice about her?”

“Duh,” said Willow. “She’s pregnant. VERY pregnant. Like, any day now, I’ll bet.”

“Right. Now look at the curly headed barista girl making coffee. She’s thin. But she could be pregnant, too. Let’s say that she is – like one month pregnant. If she is, what’s the difference between her and cashier lady?”

“Eight months?”

“TIME. Time is the only difference. In 8 months curly-head could be just as big as cashier girl. Right now her baby might be tiny compared to a 9 month fetus, but it will get there. Because babies grow; that’s what they do.

“That’s what addiction is like. It grows. If you don’t ‘abort’ your addiction, with time it will be as big a problem as some of the toughest cases you saw at the meeting tonight. If you work on it now, you’ll save yourself the heartache those advanced cases have.”

“But I went to the meeting tonight,” Willow argued. “Yet it didn’t help keep me out of trouble!”

“Sure it did. It got you to be here with Bernard. What if you had gone through this alone? But you’ll need to do more than just attend meetings to keep clean. You need to jump into this recovery program with both feet, like your friend here.”

“Hey, dudette,” Bernard inserted. “When you got stressed, it didn’t take long for you to look for some dope to deal with your problems. You said that this NA stuff was for addicts, and that it didn’t apply to you. But like Joe said, you are an addict, with a small case – one that will grow bigger if you don’t do somethin’.

“And did you see how, once your anger got ahold, you were willing to throw everything away – all that you’ve earned in the last few months? You may think your life is going great, but you’re just one step – one conversation with an asshole – from losing it all. So you have more than addict issues; if you can’t prevent your anger, it will get you killed one day.”

“Yeah,” Willow replied, looking down and shaking her head. “Angry Bill came back tonight, with a vengeance. I thought I was rid of him, Bern. But he was just as strong, as mad, as violent as ever. I was actually talking about trying to deal again! This scares the hell out of me!”

“Dudette, you need a sponsor – someone with experience who can guide you through this program.”

“I agree, Bern. Would you do it? Can you be my sponsor?”

“You really ought to have another woman sponsor you, Willow,” Joe said. “Sponsors can develop intense relationships with their sponsees, and if it accidentally turns into a romance, it screws with their sobriety.” Joe’s eyes opened wide; he had an idea. “Bernard. You know who would be a great sponsor for her? Julia.”

“Yeah, that’s who I was thinking of.” replied Bern. “Willow – I’ll call and see if she can’t see you tomorrow, okay?” He checked his watch. “I’ve got eight minutes to get you home.”

“Okay. What am I going to do about tonight? I’m a little afraid to be alone with my thoughts.”

“Can you get your mom or your sister to help you?”

“We’ll see,” Willow sighed. “Maybe this talk was all I needed. Maybe I can make it through the night now.”

~o~O~o~

Despite her assurance to Bernard and Joe T. hours earlier, Willow was NOT making it through the night – at least not very well. Sleep was hard to come by; her mind was a jumble of thoughts, her emotions an out-of-control roller coaster.

Boy it didn’t take long for old “Willy the Dude” to emerge, did it? I thought like my old aggressive, competetive male self. There was nothing feminine in that meltdown at the café’. So do I really want to be female, or have I been fooling myself this whole time?

Bernard was so sweet, holding me and whispering loving words in my ear. Was it just to get me calmed down, or does he like me? Am I attractive to him as a girl? How can I be – he knows what’s between my legs, and there isn’t one bit of gayness in him (I think?).

That anger I felt! It came without warning, and took over – I had NO control. Tried to do some of the things that Doc taught me with my other emotions, but they failed completely to cool the fire in my chest. How do I control that? All it would take is one horrible anger fit to make me do something to get killed or put in jail. How can I make sure it never happens again? CAN I EVEN believe that I could live my whole life with it never happening again?

My emotions. Sheesh! Anger, fear, sorrow – I’ve been experiencing them all so intensely these last few crazy months. I sure hope they cool off – I can’t live the rest of my life being controlled by my feelings like this, can I?

She found no answers to her questions as she tossed all night.

~o~O~o~

In the morning Willow staggered into the kitchen to make some coffee. Her mother walked into the kitchen wearing a chaste black dress with a green jacket that complemented her blonde hair. “Willow, this morning will be a big test for you, like I told you yesterday. We’re leaving you here to take care of Grandpa while the rest of us go to church. So I’m really trusting you to behave -“ Gwen stopped and saw her daughter’s face. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s a long story,” Willow answered. “Momma, I’m sorry - I really, really need someone to be with me right now; I don’t want to be alone. I felt so horrible all night.”

“Why didn’t you wake me, honey? I would have been glad to help. If you need me to stay home with you I will.”

“Momma. You hate to miss church. I’d feel guilty.”

“Well, don’t! In my heart, you are way more important than a church service.” She stepped to the intercom. “William? Can you to drive Malachi and Angela to services; I need to stay here with Willow and Grandpa.” She then turned to her daughter. “Let me get some sweats on, and I’ll be right back.”

Most of the rest of the morning, Willow lay in her mother’s lap. She related the happenings of the previous night as Gwen stroked her face and hummed gentle tunes to her daughter.

~o~O~o~

A few hours later.

“Feeling any better?” Gwen asked.

“Yes, Momma. Still a little shaken, but better. Thank you.”

“I need to get Grandpa fed. I’ll make some oatmeal really quick; can you go and wake him up?”

“Will do.”

Gwen was microwaving a bowl of instant oats when a panicked Willow ran into the kitchen.

“Momma! Grandpa’s not in his bed, or his bathroom! I don’t know where he went to!”

“John, where are you? Yell out so we can find you,” Gwen spoke into the intercom as Willow ran to check other parts of the house.

“Momma! The front door’s wide open!”

Gwen ran out the door to the circle driveway; Willow was already there. Most of the 10 acres of the estate were in the front of the house. The yard was xeriscaped so there were no real trees, but plenty of cacti and huge yucca plants. The women frantically scanned the whole area visually.

Gwen finally spied him. “The front gate!”

Far in the distance stood Grandpa John at the entry gate. He was in his pajamas, and yanking at the gate bars in a futile attempt to open them.

“Wait here Willow – I’ll get the golf cart and we’ll ride over.”

“No, Momma – I have to get to him as quick as I can – you meet us there!” The girl took off on foot towards the gate.

The work Willow had done on Angie’s Peloton paid off; her feet tapped the ground in rapid, long strokes as she raced the quarter mile between her and her Grandpa.

The elderly man shook the bars of the entry gate in frustration. As he did, he lost his grip; he stumbled and staggered backwards, heading straight for a nest of cactus plants. His arms swung wild as he vainly tried to recover his balance, then he tipped backwards …

… and was caught just in time by Willow. Grandfather and grandchild were already too ‘tipped’ to stay upright together, so she slowed and guided their descent to the bare ground off to the side of the cactus clump.

“Grandpa! Are you all right?”

“Susan! How are you, my love. I was looking for you!”

Willow once again donned the persona of her Grandma. “I’m fine, John. I was just in another part of the house. You scared the poop out of me, honey!”

Gwen arrived in the golf cart. “John, let’s get you back to the house; it’s too cold to be out here in PJ’s. And ‘Susan’ – great work. That name’s just your secret identity; you’re really Supergirl, I’m sure of it!”

~o~O~o~

William, Mal and Angie had just gotten home from church; William brought in a few spit-roasted chickens and side dishes from the nearby grocery. Gwen was telling him about the morning’s excitement.

“You should have seen Willow, honey – jumping into action without having to be told. She saved Dad from another fall. I told her she’s a little Supergirl.”

“Good job, daughter,” William smiled. “You’re a chip off the old block. Your mom’s block. Her old block … boy, this isn’t coming out the way I meant at all. I shall now deftly change the subject. What do we need to do to prevent this in the future?”

“I’m looking online for a GPS tracker made especially for wandering dementia patients,” replied Gwen, “and I think I’ve found one. It’s got a 10 mile detection radius, and you just use your phone to locate; or you can have the police help by giving them the tracker frequency. It costs a pretty penny, mind you.”

“I’ll work on some things to make the house safer, like disabling the oven and stove knobs when they’re not in use,” added William.

“Mom, what if Grandpa gets worse? Like starting to walk around half-naked, dropping and breaking glasses and plates? I know there’s five of us and one of him, but I can feel us all getting more stretched and stressed over this,” worried Angie.

“Well .. there are special nursing homes that deal with Alzheimer’s patients in the stage he’s in. I was really hoping to avoid that. But if he’d be safer there, then we may need to consider it. Those types of facilities are REALLY expensive, though. Like ‘we’d-have-to-downsize-to-a-smaller-house’ expensive,” Gwen fretted.

“Or, instead of downsizing, you could come back to work for me,” her husband suggested. “That could solve a lot of money problems.”

“Honey – even if Dad was in a facility, I still need to be here to homeschool Willow.”

“Not if we let Willow go back to Montclair High.”

The whole family stopped and looked at William, amazed at this statement from “Mr. Strict Rules”.

“REALLY?” squeaked Willow in excitement. “I could go back to where all my friends are? COOL! – Oh, wait a minute. All my friends know me as a rough boy named Bill. This is gonna be complicated. But it’s still cool!”

“Time out,” announced Gwen, making a “T” sign with her hands like an NFL referee. “Willow, have you forgotten what happened yesterday? I’m not sure you’re ready for public school yet.”

“What happened?” inquired William.

Gwen turned towards her newest daughter. “Why don’t you tell him?”

Willow’s eyes got red, and her voice choked. She just knew this was going to disappoint her Poppa so much. “Umm …

… Angry Bill came back.”

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow

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