12-Step Coffee Addicts Anonymous
Oh, the shame and lost wages
Ruby showed up late because she couldn’t resist stopping for a chai latte after dark, just to take the chill off, which of course she couldn’t bring into the meeting. The rest of them were already seated in a circle, and it was D’Ontay’s turn to lead the group tonight.
He was sharing his story about the night he finally admitted to himself he needed help, and it all went down at the 7–11.
It was the usual story about hitting bottom, although this one did not involve Starbucks or Dutch Brothers.
He left his apartment on a frigid night in a blizzard because his pour-over was out of the right kind of filters. He drove to a 7–11 and bought two large coffees, then drank both while sitting inside his car, alone.
Of course, he was alone, thought Ruby. That’s how this addiction messes with your mind. When you first guzzle down cappuccinos or maybe a frappe, you are with friends. But over time you begin hitting the drive-thrus just for the caffeine, ordering an iced double mocha espresso and telling yourself $4.50 isn’t overpriced.
D’Ontay went back inside and got a third cup and a packet of Little Debbie donuts, and he knew he’d hit bottom because he didn’t even like mini-donuts.
D’Ontay’s deeply authentic convenience store narrative moved TerryLynne, who was sitting next to Ruby, to tears. TerryLynne felt the shame of buying day-old coffee at a 7–11, ignoring that burnt taste, and swigging it, then burying that secret way down inside.
She knew the feeling of being extra wide-awake in a group of people clutching to-go cups and wondering when they began to feel so heavy (the cups, not the buzzed people), like an albatross around her neck.
The group listened respectfully while D’Ontay confessed he’d stopped halfway through that third cup, driven to a nearby park, and thrown it all out the window because it was so snowy that night, even the homeless were indoors. He realized he’d fallen all the way to the depths of hell, because now he was a litterbug on top of being a coffee junkie.
Bella got up and took their plastic bowl off the table, and passed it around so everyone could add a dollar or two, and just then Ruby giggled. She didn’t mean to, but the giggle escaped like a Genie from a bottle, and it wasn’t going back in.
She nervously ran a finger over her upper lip, to make sure no traces of chai foam remained. She’d popped a mint lifesaver before entering the building, so she wasn’t worried anyone could smell chai on her.
“What about you, Ruby? You were late last week, too. How are you doing in your sobriety?”
“I’m doing really good. Yesterday, I took my Keurig and donated it to the Salvation Army. It was funny because right after I put it down on the sidewalk next to a bag of golf clubs, some lady got out of her car and —”
“Ruby, we know what you did tonight,” said Vernon, who was sitting three spots down, holding bottled water and leaning back in his chair, both arms folded over his chest. Vernon had a deep voice and chugged water like he was an octopus.
“What do you mean? I did-didn’t do anything,” she stammered.
“Girl, you smell like chai, and what about that brown stain on your shirt?” Jennifer chimed in.
D’Ontay was leaning forward now, his head dropped low. All she could see were his tidy cornrows as his long hair swayed back and forth in disappointment.
Ruby stared down at her shirt, which was white, and saw the stain, about the size of a nickel, just below her right breast. Jennifer sure did have good eyesight for a 72-year-old who was actively involved in debtor’s anonymous, workaholics anonymous, and AA to boot.
“That’s mustard,” said Ruby meekly, immediately regretting her lie.
“DON’T YOU LIE!” D’Ontay was standing up, but he immediately sat back down.
“Okay, okay everybody — this has gone way beyond crosstalk. I know we are all upset because Ruby has been living this lie — “
“So what if I want coffee!” yelled Ruby, standing up. “And what if this IS a stain from a hot chai latte I drank right before I came in? But it’s not, it’s mustard stain because I stopped to get a hot dog at Costco, which shows you how much you know about me!”
The whole group gasped as if all the air had been let out suddenly from a giant balloon.
Jennifer broke the silence. “Now Ruby, we’ve all been there. You know how it goes, once the caffeine kicks in you are top of the world. You feel no shame and become super productive. WE KNOW. But it’s time to admit that when you are spending $36 dollars a day at Starbucks and you only earn $72 dollars a day at Arby’s…well, you do the math. Those chai lattes are siphoning your future like a smokin’ hot vampire sucks the blood of pale teenage girls in the Twilight series.
Ruby thought the latte would get her through the meeting, but she was accustomed to several triple-shot espressos a day and she’d miscalculated. Badly. Instead of feeling righteous anger, she was suddenly exhausted and having trouble focusing. Now they’d brought Twilight into it?
She ran through her options: admit guilt, walk away, or own her transgression. She desperately wished she had a double-shot mocha to help her focus.
“Ruby, we are here to help,” said D’Ontay. “But we can’t help you if you aren’t willing to admit you have a problem.”
“The thing is,” said Ruby, “Other people can drink coffee normally. They can order one Starbucks a day, or find satisfaction in a small K-Cup machine. Why can’t I?”
She was met with a sea of blank faces.
“Because,” said TerryLynne, “freedom’s not free. And neither is decent cup coffee.”
“Word,” she heard several people mumble.
Ruby gazed back down at the stain and felt her face get hot with embarrassment. She picked up her purse, then pulled out a half-opened bag of chocolate-covered espresso beans, and tossed it into the middle of the circle. It landed with a sharp clack on the grubby tile floor.
“I’m ready,” she said. “It’s not mustard, it’s chai. You want the truth? I was so high on that latte I spilled it on my new white shirt and didn’t even notice. I guess I do have a problem, for reals.”
“Ruby — would you like,” asked Jennifer, “to read our closing statement tonight?”
“Sure.” She took the copy of Courage to Change to Tea from TerryLynne, who offered the book with a motherly smile.
We who have lived the Starbucks lifestyle know, as perhaps few others can, the highs of overly caffeinated drinks. We had to admit we were powerless over the mermaid-like logo. So we meet to help each other cope, in a world where coffee is cheap and science keeps telling us it’s healthy and will add ten years to our lives. We meet to stand strong together against the forces of Trader Joe’s chocolate-covered espresso beans and the space-age convenience of K-cups. And, finally, we meet to offer hope to new members who have been to AA and NA and every other 12-step program, trying to get someone to take their addiction seriously.
Ruby was ready now. This time, she would quit the world’s most delicious and stimulating beverage forever, and resign herself to accomplishing very little in life.
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