A Necessary Step
Daniel Alarcon sat at his desk staring at his computer screen. Anyone entering his office and seeing the screen would see a financial report of some sort; nothing unusual for a college CFO. In fact, Daniel was fixed on the time passing on his digital clock on that screen. His anxiety grew with each passing minute. 5:08
Through his wide office window, in the growing dark, through a wispy snow, Daniel could make out the red, neon sign on top of the downtown Radisson. He imagined that the Chamber of Commerce staff was putting the finishing touches on the large meeting room. High top tables with linen were laid out at the right distances, the microphone was set up and tested, finger food laid out under clear wrap for the moment, sound system queued and tested, the bartender nearly set up. Soon the first guests would arrive for the monthly Chamber social gathering where the business people in town got together to reinforce their kinship against the forces of evil -- government, the federal reserve, interest rates, the Congress, the State legislature, taxes, unfair foreign competitors and so on and so on. 5:12
Daniel could feel the flush in his face, the slight perspiration accumulating on his hair line. He would need to figure out how to get that under control. He felt childish. He had attended hundreds of these events in a few communities in a few States. He “worked the room” as well as anyone, knew the players, their spouses, their children, the business the college had with each member. As the CFO for the second largest organization in town, a significant percentage of the local economy, he knew how to position that weight without lording it over people. He could listen to a story as well as tell one. “Buck up,” he told himself. 5:15
Daniel had been back from Hazelden for about six weeks. The DUI arrest was a fresh memory as was the warning from the college President. The newspaper article still hurt. The look on his children’s faces hurt the most. His wife was clear. “I love you, the children love you, but we cannot go on living in fear of your drinking. Do something or we will have to do something.”
It was a two hour drive to Hazelden; the Minnesota Model famed for its groundbreaking methods and notable alums. As he approached the driveway it struck him as noticeably un-institutional. The “drunk farm” of prior days perhaps.
In a town this size everyone knew where he had been. They told him at the rehab center that he would overcome that, that people would rather know him as dealing with it than being the talk of the town for another reason. People had their own lives to lead and short memory for others. But his shame was not that easily overcome. He knew he would have to face all of this – his wife, his children, the President, the staff, colleagues in town – but it didn’t make these initial encounters any easier.
Daniel felt good about these early days clean. The Hazelden folks ran a good business. They approached him in a way that made sense. The counselors were pros who sized him up and met him on his own terms. He understood from them that his brain chemistry was different than most but not that unusual; maybe one in twelve people shared that brain chemistry. Alcohol (and probably lots of other things he just hadn’t tried) formed linkages in his brain that made it so that he didn’t want to, or maybe couldn’t, stop once he started. He understood that his self-image as a powerful man made him think that he could wrestle this to the ground where he wouldn’t think that about another disease. He came to think that he couldn’t handle this, others knew how, he would do what they do -- Daniel’s personal revision of the first three steps of AA. He had been to a few meetings after returning to town and relied on anonymity though he wasn’t so naïve as to think his presence in AA was a perfectly kept secret. So far, so good. 5:27 He could put it off no longer.
Daniel shut down his office, walked to his car, drove to the Raddison, parked in the covered lot. He was nervous but resolved to power through; he knew this had to be done. Walking into the lobby he put his winter coat on the rack outside the reception room, galoshes under the coat. A deep breath, exhale, he walked into the room with his head high and a smile.
Muscle memory kicked in. Daniel smiled at the staff person who always made all arrangements work flawlessly and took the time to recognize her work. He walked over to the Chamber President and shook her hand confidently and with good eye contact. “We missed you last time, Daniel, but good to see you as always,” she said. “I hear that Bobby is lighting it up at Pioneer High School.” Daniel was always torn about using the ethnically correct name Roberto instead of Bobby, but he tried to leave the choice with his son. Things were changing in Minnesota, but the differences based on ethnic heritage were still noticeable. People still recognized a difference between the Sons of Knute and their German Catholic neighbors to say nothing of someone with a Spanish heritage. “That young man is fast,” Daniel replied, “so I am hoping for that track scholarship.” “I am good at this.” he thought to himself. A comfort there at least.
Daniel had prepared himself to get sparkling water to occupy his hands and not be so out of touch with the crowd. As he approached the bar, Bill Ackerman was on a parallel path. “Daniel, you look great. Everything well?” Bill Ackerman, School Superintendent, was a very influential man in town. He had survived a mild heart attack two years before and had made quite a lifestyle change. “I’m fine, Bill, and don’t you look hale and hearty,” Daniel replied. “Daniel, that scare was probably the best thing that happened to me since meeting Linda. I watch what I eat, I go to the gym a few days a week, the Board allowed me to bring on a couple of new staff people. I haven’t felt this good in years.”
“What are you having Daniel?” When Daniel said sparkling water Bill nodded and ordered two. They walked away from the bar toward the food table together. On the way they spoke with the VP at Bradford Bank, then the local men’s clothier, the head of the United Way. It was the same old, the comfortably usual for Daniel. It was sincere but never a deep conversation – families, business, local events, bills in the state house. They put down their drinks and filled a plate with just the right amount and the right kinds of food to eat without making a mess on themselves or someone else. Daniel wanted more than anything else tonight to leave in 40 minutes wholly unnoticed.
“You know, Daniel, I used to come to these things and never noticed anyone getting a little loose,” Bill said as they were standing alone for a moment. “Since I cut alcohol out of my diet, I notice that after about twenty minutes the lips get looser, and some discussions get pretty dumb. I try to make an appearance and leave as soon as the remarks are done. I like these people, but I don’t have to spend all day and then all night with them.” Daniel heard a small, derisive chuckle intended only for him. He wondered if Bill’s remark was intentional. Almost had to be. He wondered if he appreciated Bill’s interest more than he resented the intrusion.
Daniel walked the room empty handed for a bit longer thinking that Bill’s advice was right on target. No one would ever notice his leaving at a time close to Bill and probably others. The local general contractor asked Daniel how the appropriation for the library addition was coming, the College auditor stopped by just to keep the connection, another conversation about “Bobby.”
Forty minutes went by quickly. While the nerves never left, Daniel was able to get through without any stupid comments about where he had been for the last meeting. Perhaps affirmation that they all knew, and they were all polite not to ask. Perhaps, though, they found all this just as awkward as he did. Or perhaps as they said at Hazelden they had their own things to think about. Probably not that in such a small town, and didn’t everyone love a little gossip? Maybe.
After the obligatory updates from the Chamber Board President, and thank yous to the right people, Daniel started to think about his exit. He looked for Bill and saw he was headed for the door. Bill turned as if to recognize Daniel, nodded, took his leave. Daniel took the opportunity and slowly but surely made his way to the exit. He grabbed his coat and galoshes, made his way to the car and started the drive home.
Daniel felt good about the evening, good about himself. Yes, it was much better to be the guy who got a handle on his drinking rather than the guy who was unpredictable, unreliable, the guy who might get tipsy or worse. This first public appearance had to be faced, he did it, no harm seemed to have been done by him or to him. Word would get back to the College President. Perhaps she had already arranged for that review. “Let’s hope it all goes this well,” he thought to himself.
As he stopped at the first light he thought to text his wife. She would be concerned for him, for herself, for the kids. He would probably get the “kiss and sniff test” once in the house but maybe that was OK. Heaven knows he had given her cause.
At the next stop sign Daniel looked through the window at Oleander’s. He recognized a couple at the bar, and he felt and smelled the place even from inside his car. He remembered the story about Bill Wilson and the hotel bar in Akron. About how Bill was nervous more than tempted, how he had reached out for help. Daniel had been thinking about that – who would he reach out to here? A counselor was expensive and not a “sponsor.” Someone with a similar background would be hard to find. Another Latino – like the place was overrun with Latino professionals. He needed to figure that out.
He drove away from the intersection a tad self-satisfied about the whole evening. The reception went well, he passed the bar. He could do this. And that was when he realized that Bill Ackerman was in recovery. He knew about so called “gay-dar.” Maybe it worked for recovering drunks too. Was the heart attack real? Maybe? He tried to remember seeing Bill drink but could not recall a time. “I’ll be,” Daniel said aloud to no one.
Clearly Bill had sought Daniel out just to set the stage for Daniel. Clearly Bill had been there specifically focused on that task at least in part. Maybe, even, Bill and the College President had spoken. Bill had not overplayed his hand. Bill trusted Daniel to get the idea. Maybe Bill had trusted Daniel to figure it out eventually.
Daniel wondered if he had it wrong. No this was right. How had Bill kept it quiet? How did Daniel not know? How did Bill deal with his recovery quietly? Did everyone know but just accept it? That would be very comforting if so.
And then Daniel realized just how self-centered he had become about all this. It was not the case that everyone knew. It was not the case that those who did know remembered or at least they didn’t recall it often or even every time they saw Daniel. Time would help the forgetting. Everyone had their own life to live, filled with their ups and downs, successes and less than successes, work, family, hobbies. In a town this small a DUI would be noticed, but how long would it be a topic of note? How many people knew him as someone who drank too heavily after all? How many knew he had been to Hazelden? Of those, how many would think of him as a fallen man and how many would be proud of him?
It was all too much to absorb at once he realized as he drove into his garage at home; he didn’t have to figure it all out now. There would be time. After the “kiss and sniff test” he smiled and looked for the kids. If there was a sense of relief in his wife or the kids, he did not notice. “A very interesting night,” Daniel told his wife when they were out of earshot of the kids. “Eager to tell you all about it.” She could see the light in his face, the bounce in his step. Dinner, homework, an episode of “Fraiser”, reading in bed. Yes, sober was its own reward.
The next morning Daniel parked in his usual spot at the College and headed to his office not noticing the cold and snow. He put his coat in the closet and his galoshes on the mat. At his desk he picked up his desk phone and dialed the private number he had looked up already last night. “Hello,” the voice said. “Bill, this is Daniel.”
Gene Gilchrist
February 2025
