(2/8) “There was a lot of therapy for both of us. A lot of...

(2/8) “There was a lot of therapy for both of us. A lot of father son time. But no matter how far we came, I was always on defense. Always afraid of relapsing. One wrong step, and I knew I’d lose Red for good. I was starting to get depressed working as a line cook. My life had just been so shitty, and I was anxious to do something positive. To make a difference in some way. It was my therapist who first suggested a career in recovery. She told me I’d be able to help other addicts with my experience. She pointed me toward a training program, and she gave me the little boost of confidence I needed. I ended up getting hired at a local drop-in center. It was this big, old mansion in South Minneapolis. And they gave me a job in the kitchen, which was super rad. Because I got to make these giant meals for homeless people. There was a small rec room in the basement where clients would play board games. I spent a lot of my extra time down there, just talking to people about recovery. Telling them it was real. And possible. Sometimes I’d share my own story with them so they’d feel less alone. But mostly we’d just hang out and play card games. We were playing a game called ‘Skip-Bo’ when I first met Lizzie. It was her first day interning at the facility. And she must have thought I was a client, because she sat down at our table and introduced herself. I was trembling when I shook her hand. My confidence wasn’t high at the time. I’d been on a few dates, but not really. Women tended to lose interest as soon as they learned my history. And Lizzie was just stunning. College educated. A perfect ten. We saw each other quite a bit over the next few weeks. We worked in the same area a lot. We’d have some small conversations. But I was too scared to make a move. Then one day I asked her to help me carry books to the library. It was so stupid, man. There were only like four books. But it gave us ten minutes together. And when we finished we sat down outside and shared a cigarette. There was this moment where she reached over and put her hand on my leg. It was there for a minute, man. Not long enough to be awkward. But definitely long enough to say: ‘I’m interested.’”