RFK Was Almost My AA Sponsor

I drink to forget

Polio was real and vaccines wiped it out. Image by author using Midjourney.

He smelled like Crossfit and sounded like a sputtering diesel engine. He swaggered across the small room like a character from a David Mamet play. When he rose from his hard plastic seat, he carried himself like an actor playing a white-collar criminal.

I watched him make a beeline for the donuts, so his bullshit about eating healthy foods is a damned lie. He furtively devoured a glazed donut in three bites.

He went after a chocolate one with sprinkles next.

I was new and didn’t know who to ask, but he had a big vocabulary and people nodded when he spoke. He seemed like a guy who’d been through some shit and at that time, I felt that I was also a guy who’d been through some shit.

“Say R,” I asked after my second meeting.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I’m looking for a sponsor. Are you available?”

“Well, kid, I don’t sponsor just anyone. You have to answer a few questions first.”

“Sure!”

“Are you autistic?”

“Uh, I don’t think so. I have a cousin who’s retarded, though.”

I wasn’t sure if being autistic would work in my favor, or even what it was, exactly.