Then again, I was still figuring out what my ordinary was. Maybe I’d always been a busybody, just too shitfaced all the time to indulge the impulse.

This thought made me grin.

Later that day, when I was driving home from training, my phone lit up with a call from one of my closest friends. Sarah Kinsella was my AA sponsor. Someone who, over time, I’d become close with. She was different to the usual sort of people I met, and it was nice to have someone in my life who had nothing to do with rugby. She was one of the coolest, most honest women I’d ever known and had survived a much rougher life than mine: abusive father, heroin addict mother, foster homes, more abuse.

People like Sarah had a reason to turn to alcohol, and the fact that she was so in control of herself now made her someone I really looked up to.

“Hey Sarah, how’s it going?” I answered on hands-free.

“Bryan, hey! I’m good. Just thought I’d give you a quick call and see how you’re getting on.”

“I’m good, could be better. Mam’s been pulling her usual stunts.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, leaving it open for me to talk if I wanted. It was one of the things I liked most about her. If you wanted to talk she let you, but if you didn’t she never pushed. Today, surprisingly, I found that I actually did want to talk.

“Yeah, I was at my mate Will’s birthday when she called asking me to come over. I tried to say no, but you know how she is. She’s my weak spot. Sometimes it feels like I’m all she has and I can’t abandon her. Her refusal to accept that I’m sober now is making it difficult to do right by her.”

“Mm-hmm. That happens a lot. Usually it’s the friends you used to drink with that can’t accept your new lifestyle, but with you it’s your mother. You were basically her drinking buddy since you were a teenager, Bryan. Plus, you not drinking anymore shines a light on the fact that she still is. Addicts don’t want to see what they are, because denial is easier than trying to change.”

“I just wish I could make her understand that I’m not judging her. If she wants to drink, that’s her choice. I’m not going to force sobriety down her throat.”

“It’s hard for her. She’s been in this lifestyle for a lot longer than you were. All you can do is be there for her and help her if she asks for it. If she wants to change, it has to be her choice.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I sighed. “Sorry for being such a depressing bastard all the time. I feel like all I ever do is vent my problems to you.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for. Besides, you let me talk to you about my failing love life. So we’re both getting something out of it,” she replied, a smile in her voice.

“Speaking of, any news on that front?” Sarah was a lesbian living in a small city, and I often sympathized with her given how tiny the dating pool could be.

“Not really. If you think your life’s depressing, you should swap with me for a while. Even Tinder’s given up and started showing profiles of people I previously swiped left. It’s like it’s subversively trying to tell me I should consider lowering my standards.”

I chuckled at this. “Such a judgy bitch, that Tinder.”

“Tell me about it. But what about you? I take it the orchid I bought you for Christmas has wilted and died since you haven’t mentioned it in a while.”

“Yep. Buried it in the back garden next to my dead budgie and childhood cat.”

“Liar. You don’t have a garden in that fancy-pants penthouse apartment. It’s all sterile countertops and tiled floors.”

“Well, if I had one I’d have buried it. I don’t know what it is, but I think I was born with the opposite of a green thumb.”

“Death thumb?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve got. Thumb of death.”

She laughed. “So I guess you won’t be moving on to the next stage anytime soon?”

“Nope.” An unbidden image of Eilish Cassidy flashed before my eyes. The back of my neck prickled, which it did these days whenever I wasn’t being completely honest, causing me to exhale a frustrated breath.

“Nope? Are you sure?”

“Well, kind of. There’s this girl . . . this woman who’s caught my eye, but I’m pretty sure she finds me about as appealing as a fungal infection.”

She let out a scoff. “Sure.”

“Hey! I’m being serious.”

“You didn’t pull the old Bryan Leech ‘Come on Stronger than Hulk Hogan on Steroids’ trademark, did you? Because that only works with rugby groupies and the intoxicated. Any sane woman would run a mile.”

“First of all, Hulk Hogan has probably been on steroids since the eighties, so you need a new comparison. Second of all, what makes you think I come on too strong?”

“Remember when I first became your sponsor and you fell off the wagon? I had to come drag your arse out of some hellhole pub, and since you didn’t know I was gay back then you came on to me. It was sort of hilarious. You had all these lines—”

“Okay, no need to regale me.” I frowned. “I’m almost home, and I need to go pick up some groceries.”

She chuckled some more. “Fine, fine. I want to know more about this lady you’re into, and we should probably talk a little about you taking the next step and starting up a relationship, but all in all I think you’re ready.”