Tuesday Night Bundt Cake

On the first, third and fourth Tuesdays of every month Tracey finds herself in a familiar church basement meeting hall, sitting on a dented metal fold out chair, sipping on lousy but free percolated coffee from a styrofoam cup, topped up with two cubes of processed white sugar. On special days, like an anniversary or someone feeling generous, there are fresh doughnuts or a bundt cake instead of the usual variety of bulk store no-name cookies, like those weird ones with the stripes of black and white icing. Tracey avoids those unless all of the arrowroots and maple cream filled leaf ones are gone. Tracey never intended to make this a regular thing; it started 8 months ago when she saw the sign leading down the stairs on the way out of the bathroom. St Stephen's is on her ride home after Pilates class. She had to pee so badly that she stopped to use the church facilities. It was past dinner time, so when she smelled the coffee and freshly baked lemon loaf- it was a one year chip day for Donny- she popped her head in and was invited to stay. In the moment Tracey didn't think twice;  it was anonymous, she was 6 miles from home and everyone was so welcoming. Compared to the competitive, uptight, mean girl pilates ladies, this gang was a-ok. When she rode past again the next week, she found herself locking up her bike and heading back down the basement stairs. After four weeks, she shared: Tracey had created an entire backstory, detailed accounts of various blackouts, run ins with the law and unsuccessful attempts at sobriety and reconciliation with the family who had abandoned her in her time of need. The incident with the parked car, a bag of oranges, and the Stacy Peralta skateboard is still talked about. Four years of theatre school and an undergrad in creative writing serve her well here. Every now and then a wave of shame surges through Tracey. Her self loathing and approval seeking self rear their ugly heads and threaten to disassemble the entire rigamarole. Until the gig is up, Tracey's going to ride it out. It's the best night of the week for her these days and far more satisfying than an hour on the Reformer.