I ask him to sit down and talk. “If it’s about rehab, there’s nothing to say.” “Nic—” “Nothing to say.” “You have to try again. Nic. Look at me.” He doesn’t. “You’re throwing everything away.” “It’s mine to throw away.” “Don’t throw it away.” “There’s nothing to throw away.” “Nic!” He pushes past me and without looking up says, “I’m sorry.” He rushes down the hall. When he passes Karen, he says, “Hey, Mama,” and she stares at him, uncomprehending.
