The Man Who Smiled Too Easy

I stare blankly while smiling. “Welcome to the Recovery Hub,” the young woman in the middle of the circle exclaims enthusiastically. I look around the circle and see the typical crackhead types, except one, the woman straight across from me. She looks to be mid-30s, around my age, and she is definitely too attractive to be in this room. My eyes linger a second too long, and we make eye contact. Her face looks slightly panicked before she calms and says, “Umm… Hi,” with an awkward chuckle. “Oh, sorry, I was just… I wanted… I,” my words feel all jumbled in my throat. I take a second to gather myself before continuing, “I was just thinking that you look a little out of place with this bunch.” “Okay!” She says sharply with a poor attempt to hide her annoyance. Swing and a miss. I can’t blame her; I’m not the most attractive guy on the planet. Maybe it’s best that she didn’t give me a chance. She probably doesn’t need another addict in her life. The woman in the middle gestures for everyone to stand before starting, “Today is a special day, as we are joined by a new member, Tod!” Everyone shifts to look at me. I didn’t expect to be put on the spot, but I can’t help it now. I begin by correcting her, “It’s Ted,” I say softly before continuing, “and I am ready to finally overcome my addiction, if y’all would be so kind as to help me.” The circle kinda agrees coldly before the lady in the middle continues, “So, where are you from, Ted?” “I’m originally from Vermont, but I’ve moved all around.” My words come out more dull than intended. I bet every person in the circle just wants me to shut up. They don’t even know me yet, and they already hate me. “Where else have you lived, Ted?” the lady asks with her fake enthusiasm. I try to answer more upbeatly, “Let’s see… I’ve lived in Washington, Oregon, Colorado, Utah, and finally, here in Idaho.” “Wow!” Says the lady before continuing, “Why did you move around so much?” I’d like to lie, but I’ll never get better that way. “I moved because of my addiction,” I answered honestly. “Well, we all know how that feels. Right, guys?” the lady in the middle says in an attempt to console me. The group just stares coldly. “Alrighty,” the lady says, annoyed, before starting again, “Do you mind opening up a little more about the events which caused you to move so much, and talk about your experience with addiction if you would.” I don’t want to, but I need to. “Sure,” I say with a sigh. I begin, “Well, you all know how it goes. The first one always feels the best. I was chasing the thrill of my first hit like a dog chasing its tail, but the satisfaction never came. The rush I felt was immeasurable. The buzz only diminished every time after the first. Inevitably, people stopped talking to me after I got addicted. First, there was this girl Lynda Ann. She was so pretty. Though we never really got along and she was always yelling at me about something, so it was probably for the best that we stopped talking. Next was Donna. She always loved music. I remember we would always listen to her records in her living room. It must’ve broken her heart when she found out that I was an addict. We used to be such good friends until I got addicted. She must’ve hated me to death. I felt the same, but I preferred when she was around. She was probably the saddest person I’ve lost. I still remember how she looked when I told her about what happened between Lynda Ann and me. Her face was in horror, which perplexed me. She was my friend; she was supposed to support my side. She tried to distance herself, but I couldn’t bear to see her leave. That was the last time we spoke. The next few were just random people I met on my travels westward. They were all nice, but they were two-faced. They all tried to get away from me when I mentioned my addiction. I never really understood why, but some people view addicts as subhuman. I don’t necessarily disagree. The number of bridges I burned is probably around 60. I’m not sure if I even have feelings.” I feel something running down my face before realizing it’s a tear. I didn’t know these people meant so much to me, or am I just scared of revealing the truth? “We can take a break if you want,” the lady in the middle says softly. She walks next to me and places a hand on my back. “It’s okay, I want to at least say the conclusion,” I say, trying to sound courageous. “The people who left me in the middle of my travels all blend together. I only remember the last three. I remember there were two sorority girls walking around my motel one night. They saw me and they wanted to… um… join me whilst sleeping. I invited them in, but once I told them about my addiction, they started scrambling around on the bed. I remember I asked them to join me in my fantasies. They looked horrified and disgusted. Safe to say, they never wanted to speak again. The final one was a young girl, Kimberly. I remember her hair was so long and silky. I was just lonely and wanted to play with her, but she never said a word. I would’ve never guessed that the cold shoulder would hurt so much from a child. I tried to say something, but she never spoke again,” I said sinisterly. The circle is starting to look at me strangely and slightly concerned. Did I accidentally say too much? The lady had moved further away sometime during my spiel. The lady across from me locks eyes with me again. She looks more disturbed than the last time. She takes a deep breath before asking, “What was your name again?” She’s figured it out. I answer back calmly, “Ted.” “Last name,” she snaps back quickly. I respond in the same calm tone, “Bundy.” I stare blankly while smiling.