Chapter Text
Applause filled the small room as whoever was speaking finished his share. Jeff didn’t care to catch his name. He also didn’t care to join in the applause.
He shifted uncomfortably in the cold, metal chair as the head of the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting looked around the circle, finding the next volunteer to share.
The meeting was almost over and Jeff still hadn’t shared, despite the sound of Britta asking him to do so ringing in his head. To get Britta off his back, Jeff finally relented and told her he would share at his first meeting, although he had no intention of following through.
What was there to say?
Besides, Jeff was certain the chairwoman of the meeting, who Jeff also didn’t know the name of, wouldn’t pick him based solely on his body language. He wasn’t sitting straight, instead sitting slouched over with his arms crossed and his eyes focused on the lines between the wood panels in the floor.
He hadn’t been listening to or responding to anyone’s shares for the sole reason that he didn’t feel like he needed to be there.
Jeff knew he wasn’t an alcoholic, or a “functional alcoholic” as Frankie called him when she reported him to Human Resources.
He was only here so Britta would leave him alone about it.
Jeff knew that Britta only wanted what was best for him, but she had a real habit of sticking her nose in places where it didn’t belong.
She had gotten worse after the RV trip.
Jeff tensed at the memories of the trip. He didn’t care to relive it. The cramped, cold RV, too many people around, the lack of whiskey, a giant hand that he still didn’t understand the purpose of, getting locked outside of the RV by the Dean, slapping Abed-
He closed his eyes to distract himself from the flood of bad memories that piled up from that day.
He just wanted this meeting to be over so he could leave and pretend this never happened.
“Would our newcomer like to share?”
But of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
The chairwoman’s voice had slightly startled Jeff, who had blinked rapidly in response to her question. He glanced around the room, finding 19 pairs of eyes trained on him, waiting for a response to the question. He could tell some of them were a little ticked that he hadn’t been listening or clapping along with everyone else.
Either way, no one was pressuring him to say anything which was fine since he didn’t want to. However, he couldn’t shake this small, nagging feeling of guilt at the thought of not sharing. But he didn’t care enough to suddenly change his mind and share when he didn’t have anything to share about.
He could hear Britta telling him that last part wasn’t true but he ignored it as he shrank back against his chair, avoiding eye contact and quietly, but firmly, saying “No.”
“Oh. Okay. Would anyone else like to share? We have time for one more.” The chairwoman said, moving on quickly, although Jeff was stuck in that moment.
He didn’t want to be a newcomer.
He didn’t belong here.
Jeff leaned against the metal back of the chair, the tenseness never leaving his shoulders and instead spreading to his crossed arms.
These people may have been alcoholics, but he wasn’t.
He didn’t need this.
The last share of the evening as well as the applause that followed didn’t register in Jeff’s brain, but the chairwoman standing up afterwards did.
He watched as she retrieved a tray of assorted chips and internally groaned.
He knew what was coming next and didn’t want any part of it.
Jeff watched silently as different people walked up to retrieve a colored chip, each representing a different length of sobriety for them.
He would be expected to get the 24 hour chip.
He watched as the time sober decreased from person to person, from one year to one month. There were only 20 people in the meeting so Jeff knew that he would have to stand up soon.
He was dreading it.
After the last person that took a one month sober chip sat down, the chairwoman held up a silvery white chip that Jeff could see had 24 inscribed in it.
“Last but not least, our 24 hour sober chip. Would anyone like to take one?”
The way she had phrased the question made Jeff think it was an option, but no one else was standing up to take one. He was the only “newcomer” there. He felt like he had to because of that.
The chairwoman looked at Jeff with a soft smile. Jeff accidentally made eye contact and sighed quietly, standing up to take one. He ignored how the room slightly spun and how his head started pounding lightly as he walked towards the chairwoman and let her put the chip in his slightly shaky hand.
As he sat back down, he ignored the obligatory applause as he thumbed the chip in his hand. Like he observed, the chip was silvery white, inscribed with a triangle and the words “24 hours”, along with a phrase he wasn’t bothered to read. What set it apart from the rest of the chips was the very stark, out of place, blue streak that ran across the entire front of the coin, right through the triangle.
He turned the chip over in his hand and closed his fist, not looking at it anymore.
“That’s it for this meeting. I hope I’ll see you all next week!” The chairwoman finished with a smile, standing up to put the chip tray away.
Everyone else started following her lead and stood up, getting ready to leave. Some of them ambled and talked with each other, though.
Jeff wanted to leave quickly before anyone would try and talk to him. He stood up, once again ignoring the onset of pain and tremors, and turned towards the door, ignoring anyone that even glanced in his direction.
On his way out of the room, he threw the silvery white sobriety chip in the trash bin that sat by the doorway.
It would’ve been a lie to keep it, anyway.