Sins of Our Fathers (9781571319128) by Shawn Lawrence Otto Page A

with the name “Gary.”
    â€œThank you,” JW whispered to the woman next to him. He stood and smoothed his suit jacket, realizing as he did so that he had slipped into exactly the position he wanted to avoid: junior to some well-meaning—but less intelligent and less successful—gambling addicts.
    â€œI’m Gary L.,” the man said, “and in keeping with Gamblers Anonymous tradition, we’re going to start by asking you twenty questions. If you answer yes to seven or more I’m going to ask you if you think you’re a compulsive gambler. All right?”
    JW glanced around at the faces watching him. The farmerwith the long brown face and fingernails. The frizzy-haired waitress with rashy cheeks. The implement salesman with blonde bangs combed long and low across his forehead. The kind-looking woman in mom clothes, who wore a home detention ankle bracelet. They seemed encouraging, but all of it was mildly disgusting. They knew nothing about him—what he did, what he knew, what he had accomplished—or the position he had in the community. Who were they, to judge him?
    â€œI think you can probably skip the questions,” he said, a hand in his pocket in his best business-conference-presenter persona.
    â€œWell, it’s our procedure,” replied the chair.
    â€œThat’s fine, but, you know, I was just going to leave,” said JW, pointing in the direction of the door. “I just wanted to get the book and then the door was blocked. I’m sorry to disrupt your meeting—”
    â€œThat’s fine,” said Gary, in a tone that struck JW as surprisingly gentle for a plumber. He suddenly felt that it would be rude of him to leave. He lifted an arm.
    â€œYou know what? Go ahead,” he said, and smiled around the room. “You all seem like reasonable people.”
    â€œOkay.” Gary read from the Big Book. “Did you ever lose time from work or school due to gambling?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHas gambling ever made your home life unhappy?”
    JW let out an ironic laugh. “I don’t have a home life per se. My wife and I are separated.” He was smiling as if it were funny, he realized, and a wave of regret washed over him. He felt his face flushing. “You know, I’m really not that comfortable sharing personal information like this.” He looked around the room, hoping to find a sympatheticsmile. Instead, they all looked sorry for him. JW was deeply unsettled, but he clasped his hands and tried to stand in place politely.
    â€œDid gambling ever affect your reputation?” the chair asked.
    JW sighed in renewed irritation—with himself more than anything. “So I’ve been told.” It came out clipped. He felt the blood rising in his temples.
    â€œHave you ever felt remorse after gambling?”
    â€œGary, just give him a minute,” said the woman beside JW.
    JW shrugged. “Hasn’t everyone?” Now his sarcasm was unmistakeable.
    â€œLook,” replied Gary, “you may think this is stupid, but this isn’t banking. Yes, I know who you are. We’re not your loan applicants. We’re gambling addicts, all of us, and wherever we come from, we’re all on the same level in here.”
    JW felt a burst of anger. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we’d been through the twenty questions yet.”
    A few of the people laughed, and Gary glanced at them and banged his gavel. “That’s enough,” he said.
    JW’s mouth was dry and his feet hurt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just don’t think I’m ready for this.”
    â€œYou’re among friends. You can let it out.”
    JW looked from the chair to the others in the room and back again. He let out a small laugh and rubbed his neck.
    â€œNo,” he said, “I’m not going to do that.” He realized he was clenching his fists, and willed them to