Chapter 3- You Really Are Crazy

If I click my heels together, will you take me home?

His first AA meeting stretched on and on. Will stared into his lap, letting the words wash around him. His shadow gazed up at him, curled around itself. Emotion pulsed in the men around him. He could feel their relief, especially, rising like steam. Here, none of them were alone. Here, everyone had one thing in common. How good it must feel to have such solidarity.

I knew I had a problem when my wife left me. Will imagined the man who said this coming home drunk and destroying furniture, blood vessels, trust.

I knew I had a problem when all my friends hated me. Because he hit on their girlfriends and threw up all over their bathroom floors.

I knew I had a problem when I couldn’t choose life over alcohol.

What is my problem, Will wondered. He resisted the urge to stroke the shadow napping in his lap. Wondered why he didn’t want to crush the thing instead. Would it feel real, if he touched it? Would his fingers slip through it like silk? Would it disappear?

This was his problem. Alcohol wasn’t. He could stop drinking, no problem. But he still wouldn’t be able to rise when the shadow crushed him, he wouldn’t be able to hear clearly when it whispered in his ear, he would still suspect the worst of others because of the shadow’s insistence. He didn’t belong here.

As the others relaxed, muscles expelling tension, Will clenched his. He was alone.

A slightly balding, overweight man sitting a few seats to the right of Will stood. “I’m Herb and I’m an alcoholic.”

Will looked up. It was the same guy who’d been staring at him. He was encased in vines"they wrapped around his core, his head, his arms and legs, leaving just enough space for him to see and breathe. Will inhaled sharply and glanced quickly around him. No one else was reacting. Couldn’t they see?

As he spoke, the vines tightened. Thorns grew and pressed into skin, piercing him in shallow spots all over his body. Blood ran in tiny rivulets down his skin.

Heart pounding, Will stared, hands grew clammy, a rushing roar sounded in his ears.  He couldn’t hear what the man… Herb? was saying. The shadow nipped his palms, but he could barely feel it.

As he watched, the vines began to disintegrate. It was as if the man was exuding acid, the vines loosened and fell away, the thorns lost their holding and the blood clotted, stopped running. By the time he sat down, the vines were gone and he was steaming the same relief as the others.

Will dropped his eyes before he was caught staring, muttered the expected ‘thanks Herb’.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

Just before the end, Will stood. Why not, he thought. I’ll give this a try. Perhaps I can join this community. I’ve got problems, even if they aren’t exactly the same kind. His words flowed freely. Thick waves of support buoyed him, made him giddy.

As he spoke, he became aware that his shadow was no longer with him. It had crept beneath the table, was crawling up a lean man with hooded eyes, a wasted smile on his eyes that disappeared as the shadow found its’ way to his shoulder. Will watched, his discomfort growing. It couldn’t hurt anyone else, could it?

He could feel his voice wavering. He lost track of what he was saying, watching as a thin silvery smoke was sucked out of the man. He sat down hard.

‘Thank you Will’ a collective murmur.

Light disappeared from the lean man’s eyes. The shadow bulged, expanded, settled.

Will let his head drop, caught sight of his own shadow, still asleep in his lap.

He looked back up. It was another shadow across from him, not his own. Now that he looked closely he could detect the difference. A slightly different shape, a more bouncing movement, a shade that seemed closer to violet than black.

How had he spoken without being attacked? Something in here was putting his shadow to sleep. Something protecting him… Will looked from face to face, as if the answer would reveal itself to him through the rustling of coats or the slow movements as the members rose to leave the room. Cold air blasted as the door opened, and his shadow shook its head and looked up at him accusingly, blinking groggily. It leapt up to his shoulder and began the usual routine, whispering in his ear, thoughts about not belonging. About meaningful glances from members. He thinks you’re awkward. He thinks you don’t have what it takes. She thinks you’re ugly. They know you aren’t one of them.

Jeremy was lingering, talking with old friends. Will stepped outside hastily. He breathed deeply, willed inner silence. He erected a concrete wall between his mind and the shadow. On his side; cold, fresh air. Snow falling. Quiet. His breath; in and out, in and out. The shadow was roaring on the other side, extending long claws that slashed into the barrier violently.

It expanded into smoke. Thick, viscous smoke that rose over the top of his wall, around the sides, until it had swallowed him.

F**k.

He opened his eyes, looked at the shadow standing in the shape of a man before him, and cocked his head. “Fine, you win.”

It shrugged, made a gesture as if it were putting hands in its pockets. Will looked it over. Pure black, like a void of space, in the shape of a boy the same size as him.

“Can you talk?”

It didn’t move. Was it watching him? Impossible to tell.

“What do you want?”

Slowly, a black arm raised and a hand extended out to Will, as if to shake. Suddenly, he felt self-conscious, and glanced around him. No one was looking"just people from the meeting, most of them older, getting into cars, smoking, some of them talking. Gravel and the dead leaves of the season crunched under weathered shoes. He turned back to the shadow and extended his own hand until their fingertips met.

It vanished.

A snickering in his ear. You really are crazy, you know that?

Will cursed the shadow on his shoulder and turned on his heels to find Jeremy. Time to get the f**k out of here.