June 08, 2012

#FearfulHeart

Elizabeth's Miscellaneous Topics: New York vs Alabama - The cultural difference
It's scary, all the while, waiting for the worst from this man, Berry. It was obvious that Berry was interested, just by the way he looked at me shortly after my arrival to Pickensville. Most of the men that give that look are players here, it's obvious when their girl is sitting in the car waiting.
Berry, like myself, is a recovering alcoholic. After fishing around to make sire he wasn't married, then hinting my own interest, he asked me out. We were supposed to attend church last Sunday, until he bailed on Saturday.
Berry lives and works on the Pickensville sheriff's farm, tending the goat, chickens and hogs. The goat's milk and eggs are brought to the local jail for the inmates every morning. When a hog is ready, it is brought to a processing plant nearby to be prepared for the inmates.
Last Saturday Berry called to cancel our date, it was fear. He said the sheriff was making him work, I knew better. Later that night after hearing about some things a local gossip mongrel, Nelly had said, my suspicions were confirmed. Nelly had told the town police that I was married, leaving out the part as to how Michael and I separated nineteen years ago, to never reconcile since.
When Berry came later, drunk after being sober for five years, last Saturday night, looking not like himself, I knew better to leave with him in his vehicle. He asked about me being married but explaining to him the situation while intoxicated was somewhat impossible, he kept forgetting my answer.
After Berry and I left in his truck, he backed up and just kept going backwards. Next thing he drove right into a ditch across from where I'm staying, here in Alabama. When it became apparent that Berry might have kept driving backwards, almost flipping the truck over, I told him to stop or we would be laying sideways.
Berry told me to get away from him, before the police came. Grabbing the steering wheel, unhooking the seatbelt and then opening the door, all the while, praying that the movement wouldn't cause the truck to flip, I got out. Just after stepping onto the sidewalk, Jerry, the police pulled up. Giving a look as if to say, move your ass, that is just what I did.
Once composed, I went outside to see what was happening. In Pickensville there are only three on the law enforcement, Faye, Jerry anf the sheriff, whom Berry works for. They took Berry home, pulled his truck out of the ditch and towed it behind the police station.
Afterwards while talking with my sponsor, Jerry came and asked Ahmed if everything was okay and wanted to know if I had been drinking with Berry all day as well. Ahmed told him no, that I only went to take a ride with Berry and came right back after he drove in the ditch.
The next morning the sheriff brought Berry to pick up his truck. Berry must have still been drunk, he wanted to talk to me. Ahmed told him I was still sleeping after being up all night. Later that afternoon Berry called to apologize. Telling him that it was both our fault, plans were made to get together, properly and soberly.
Since then we have talked and gotten to know each other. Liking him a lot but afraid, that guard is still up. Right now trying to start an AA meeting here is a goal. The nearest one is in Mississippi, twenty-two miles from here. It would be good, for so many. With it being a dry county here, rot gut whisky is commonly drunk, causing alcoholism to effect a large portion of those in this small community.

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