I take a deep breath and sit down. My heart is beating so fast I swear everyone around me can hear it. My palms are sweaty and butterflies fill my stomach.  Is this how it felt for Mom the first time she was here? I look around at all of the sad, empty faces. They look like lost puppies, just waiting to be found. I don’t know what to do, or say so I just sit there, hoping no one can tell how scared I am.
What am I going to do when he sees me? Smile? Wave? Pretend like I don’t know who he is? I shouldn’t have come. I should just leave; he’s not going to want to see me. What was I thinking? Just as I’m about to get up and forget this whole plan, I see him. He walks through the double doors, head hanging low, large dark circles under his eyes. I can tell he hasn’t shaved in weeks. He looks, so different, yet so familiar. I just want to run into his big arms and stay there forever. But, I can’t. Not after what he did to me, not after what he did to my family. I look away, letting my hair fall over my face, so he doesn’t know it's me. Maybe he won’t even look at me. Maybe he won't notice I’m here.
I move my hair out of my eyes and peek up at him again to see that he’s walking straight towards me. I quickly turn my head, my pulse racing. Oh no, oh no, oh no he’s going to see me. I keep my head down, determined to not be discovered. I glue my eyes to the floor and pretend to be very interested in my worn out Converse.
“Hello everyone, and welcome to the Ottawa Area Intergroup of Alcoholics Anonymous. I know that this might be scary for most of you, but I assure you that everyone in our community supports you and is here to listen.” I hear a very cheerful voice say.
I look up to see a short woman grinning from ear to ear. I know she’s trying to make everyone feel “safe”, but honestly, it’s just creeping me out.  I shrink lower into my chair and look down for fear of getting noticed.
“Who would like to be the first brave person to share their story with us?”
Silence. 
“Anyone?” she asks again.
Silence. 
“Well, that’s alright, I’ll start us off then,” she says. That's when I hear someone clear their throat and stand up.
“Excuse me, if you don’t mind, I’d like to share.”  A familiar voice says.    It didn’t take me long to realize it was my father.
“Oh, that's great! You just go right ahead.” the woman smiles.
“Hi everyone, I’m Pete, I’ve been sober for three months, and I decided to get help because, well… I need it. It’s been a long three years since Marnie, my wife of seventeen years, kicked me out. It was a great seventeen years, though, I have to admit, I don’t remember much of it because of the drinking.”
I bite my lip and search through my purse for a tissue, holding back tears. I cup my hands over my ears, trying to make the words stop flowing out of his mouth. I lift my head and just stare at him, not caring if he sees me anymore. I want him to see me. I want him to know how much he hurt me. His eyes meet my gaze, and he stops in mid-sentence.
I quickly get up and run out the door, tears threatening to trickle down my face.
“Alice! Alice!” I hear.
I turn around and see my dad running towards me. I don’t know what to do. I want to run away, but my feet just won't let me.
“Dad?” I squeak.
I can’t tell if he’s happy or sad to see me. He’s good at hiding his emotions, just like he’s good at hiding a lot of other things. He takes a step closer to me and touches my arm. I stare up at him, and a single tear falls down my face.
“Hi.” he says.
“Hi,” I say.
And in those two words, we said to each other, I know it's the start of something, maybe not something perfect, but something.