U Is for Undertow

five years, two months, and five days. The best Walker could offer up was seven days, not even worth one hand clapping. He’d have felt like a fool if he’d stood up and shared that. Belatedly, he flashed on the fact that while he’d been busy patting himself on the back, he’d forgotten about the girl he’d killed.
    Sitting there, he could feel his demons stir. It wasn’t that he wanted a drink as such. It was the option to drink that he found hard to renounce. At some point in the future—five years or ten, he was unclear on the time frame—he wanted to believe he could enjoy a cocktail or a glass of wine. How many special occasions would come and go with him sipping soda water or a Diet Coke, detached and disengaged? Not drinking for the remainder of his life was too extreme a penalty. Surely, he’d regain the privilege once he learned to moderate his intake.
    Carolyn would have told him he was kidding himself, but it wasn’t true. He was grappling with his so-called drinking problem and he was doing his best. How much more did she expect? He wanted a drink. He admitted it, especially now with this other business coming to the fore. The subject was like a cracked tooth he kept feeling with his tongue to see if the fissure had progressed.
    He checked his watch. Half an hour yet. All he could think about was how burdened he was. Over the years guilt had chafed at him, and now his only relief occurred during that magic moment when a drink went down and the warmth spread through his chest, untying the knots, loosening the noose around his neck. He was losing his capacity to tolerate the weight of anxiety that dogged him from day to day. How would he grow old with such a canker in his soul?
    An eternity later, the meeting ended and the room emptied with a clatter of chairs being folded and stacked against the wall. He felt a touch on his arm that made him jump.
    “Fancy meeting you here.”
    He turned. Avis Jent stood close by, in a spiky blaze of dark red hair, the scent of whiskey pouring off her skin. Shit, he thought, had she come to the meeting drunk? His right arm was still in a sling so he didn’t make a move to shake hands.
    Her eyes widened at the sight of his face. “Oh, I love that blend of purple and yellow. The black eyes make you look like a raccoon. You got yourself banged up good.”
    “I take it you heard about the accident.”
    “Me and everyone else. The whole of Horton Ravine is abuzz.”
    “Thanks. I’m feeling so much better for having talked to you.” Walker hadn’t seen Avis since their chance encounter on Via Juliana, that nightmare of patrol cars, police personnel, and rumors of a dead child. He hadn’t read a word in the paper about the incident, unless an article had appeared while he was in St. Terry’s and out of commission.
    Avis wasn’t looking good. He’d once thought her attractive, but the fluorescent lighting didn’t do her any favors. In her current state of inebriation, her eyes were out of focus and her loose-limbed swaying was such that he had to put a hand out to steady her.
    She said, “Whoa.”
    “I hope you didn’t drive over here in this condition.”
    “I came by cab. My license was permanently yanked. What a drag,” she said. “And you?”
    “I have a kid who squires me around town.”
    “Lucky you. How many meetings? Is this your first?”
    “Third.”
    She smiled. “Clever move. Paying lip service so you’ll look good when your case goes to trial. I’ve done the same thing myself.”
    Her tone was bantering but smug, and it annoyed the shit out of him. “How’s Carolyn holding up?” she asked, eyes wide with sympathy.
    “Great. She’s been very supportive, a real brick.”
    Avis made a face. “Well, that surprises me. I don’t think of her as understanding. She let you stay at the house?”
    “Not at the moment. I’m at the Pelican in Montebello, two blocks from the bank, which simplifies life to some extent. I still see the kids.”
    She looked around the room, which was empty except for the two of them. “I don’t suppose you could give me a ride home. I’m low on cash and the taxi over cost me twenty bucks. We could have a quick drink.”
    “Jesus, Avis. Would you give it a rest?”
    She laughed. “It was a joke.”
    “Not a funny one.”
    “Oh, lighten up. This isn’t the end of the world.”
    “Thanks for the encouragement. Nice seeing you. Have a good life.”
    “Good-bye to you, too. Change your mind, you know