of the television.” He was spying on her! And here he was in the wrong, accusing her! “Me, a terrible father? You’re a worse mother!” he thundered. He guzzled down the remainder of the beer and was opening another when they heard the whispering shush of little feet on the vinyl floor.
Eliza turned around to see Cameron standing there, gazing at both of them with a worried look on his face, his cheeks red, his hair tousled, wiping sleep out of his eyes.
“That’s not true, Daddy, she’s a good mommy,” he whined.
Alex had apparently been drinking before he arrived home, because he staggered toward them, losing his footing for a moment. His voice was soft at first. “Cameron, go to your room, this is none of your business.” But when their son stood, crossing his arms, refusing to budge, his father’s voice rose in anger. “Cameron, do what I say!”
“No!”
Eliza came to her son’s rescue. “Cut it out, Alex, he’s just a little boy defending his mom.” And I’m really proud of him, she thought smugly.
Alex took one stride closing the gap between them and reached out to smack Cameron with his open hand, but Eliza grabbed his wrist, and Cameron ducked fast enough to escape his father’s wrath and ran wailing from the room.
“How dare you…” Eliza couldn’t finish her statement and ran after her little boy. The baby started crying with all the noise and Eliza heard the front door slam, the house shuddering from its impact.
ELIZA BEGGED Alex until he finally agreed to go with her to see Dr. Paulus for couples’ marriage counseling, not letting on her friend Marcia had originally referred her after admitting she had seen the counselor when she had been stuck in an abusive relationship in her thirties.
A tall, slender blonde in her fifties with a PhD in psychology, Dr. Paulus greeted the couple, warmly shaking their hands and motioning them into her office to have a seat on the couch across from her chair.
This lady seemed to have her life right where she wanted it. Eliza couldn’t help but feel a little bit of envy, noticing the framed photo on the desk in the corner. It was a picture of the counselor with a handsome, middle-aged man, obviously her husband, two beautiful, young blonde-haired girls in their teens, and a younger boy who looked like a younger version of the man.
They all looked joyful, sitting on a beach with a sunset sky behind them. Some people had all the luck, she thought. This woman could never understand what she was going through.
Alex and Eliza sat at opposite ends of the couch, not looking at one another as they took turns telling their story to Dr. Paulus. Alex complained his wife was overly protective and soft with the boys and that she tended to drink and shop excessively. He explained that his anger would build up because he worked so hard and had no outlet, so he gave in to his addiction and turned to the casinos to numb his feelings. Tears fell down his cheeks as he admitted his regrets. “I guess I’ve changed since that young man who left the reservation,” he said, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Working so hard has made me really hard.” He turned to look at his wife, regret and sorrow welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I love you, and I’ll do whatever you want me to do to change.”
“I’m sorry too.” Eliza took one of the tissues from the box the doctor handed her, her cheeks wet with grief. “I guess I felt trapped and gave into my own addictions and should have been more supportive.” Dr. Paulus smiled as Alex took Eliza in his arms.
At the end of the session, after their emotions subsided, Dr. Paulus suggested Alex attend Gamblers Anonymous, a gambling addiction recovery twelve-step program, and that Eliza attend Gam-Anon, a recovery program for friends and family members of those addicted to gambling.
THE TWO of them hired Patty to watch the boys the next Thursday night and drove mainly in silence to the Gamblers Anonymous meeting in the basement of the Desert View Bible Church. They got lost, even though they followed their new GPS, and argued until Eliza finally rolled down her car window and asked a stranger walking by for directions.
They walked into the church basement hall a few minutes late, feeling embarrassed and conspicuous, and took seats in the back of the meeting room, which was half full of about twenty people of varying ages and ethnicities.
Listening to some of the stories shared that night, Eliza thought for the first time in a long time that maybe she and Alex had a chance. Our problems dim in comparison, she thought, listening to a man named Jimmy T. share his story.
“My wife divorced me after I traded in the last of our welfare stamps for gambling money,” Jimmy said, tearing up. “The only food left in the house was a little bit of pancake mix and a few cans of soup, and we had three kids to feed. I just couldn’t stop. I kept thinking, ‘just one more time and when I win, I can fix everything.’ And then I’d be up a couple hundred bucks, and I’d think ‘that isn’t enough yet,’ and before long, after a few drinks and a few more hours, I’d walk out broke again. She got tired of hearing the same old story. Thank God I found you all. I know that won’t bring her and my kids back, but it helped get me off the streets before I wound up in jail, or worse, dead at the hands of some crime boss I couldn’t pay back.”
She heard muted laughter and realized it was coming from another room off the hall that she couldn’t see. After all of the people took turns talking, except for Alex who passed, they stood and joined hands and said the Lord’s Prayer. Eliza noticed a small group of about a dozen people coming out into a hallway in the distance, chatting and smiling.
The GA meeting had been mostly comprised of men, with only two other women who were much older than Eliza. A few men gathered around Alex to shake his hand and give him their phone numbers. Eliza stood fidgeting idly, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Just as she was saying a prayer to herself that this whole night be over quickly, a middle-aged Native American woman approached her with a broad smile and, without warning, hugged her.
“Hi, honey, you look a little lost. I’m Sunny, short for Sundance, and I just came from Gam-Anon yonder and was wondering if maybe you belong there instead tonight?” Her smile revealed a missing tooth, and her skin was well worn.
Eliza was initially flabbergasted at her effrontery and looked around for Alex, who was nowhere to be seen, but then she looked into the woman’s kind eyes, which reflected her warm smile, and realized she had nothing to fear. “I think I was supposed to be in Gam-Anon according to my counselor,” Eliza meekly replied. “But we were late and I didn’t know where to go. Is that where you were just now?”
“Sure was, honey, and you’re welcome to come back next Thursday night and join us.” The gap-toothed woman grinned again. She fished in her pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper on which she wrote her telephone number. “Call me if you need a ride, I’ll be glad to come getcha.”
“Thank you, um, Sunny.”
Just then Alex walked up to her and put his arm protectively around her. “Ready to go, honey?”
ONCE CAMERON and Austin were both in school, Eliza got a part-time job as an assistant clerk with the local Phoenix Public Library, which helped ease their family’s financial burden but kept her too busy to keep seeing Dr. Paulus, whom she had continued to visit for a few sessions on her own when Alex couldn’t make it.
Alex and she had gone to a few more counseling sessions, but then he became embroiled in corporate changes at his job that required more of his time and attention.
They had also attended the weekly GA and Gam-Anon program meetings at night for several months, and then slacked off as the boys got involved with after school and weekend activities like soccer and baseball, and her husband’s job got even more demanding. Eliza had wanted to keep attending regularly, but Alex had told her he was better and suggested she didn’t really need it anymore and really couldn’t afford to spend the extra time.
Eventually, as the years passed, Eliza stopped going to see Dr. Paulus and quit attending the twelve-step program meetings altogether. Although it was more hectic, life seemed to be back