The desire to judge him—and my relative, and myself—seemed to have bled away. The old noisy voices of judgment and repression were only whispers now. I told him to call me anytime. I told him I’d go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings with him. I told him that if he was tempted to relapse I’d sit with him, however long it took, until his urge to use passed. I didn’t threaten to sever the connection: I promised to deepen it.
