A few weeks after I quit drinking, I walked into Michael’s house at the end of the day and sat down on the sofa. I wanted a drink, a single glass of white wine, so badly I thought I’d cry. I just sat there with my teeth clenched. I thought about pouring the wine into the glass, walking with the glass from the kitchen to the living room, curling up on the sofa and taking the first sip. I wanted that wine so badly I could taste it, and the only thing that kept me from rushing out to the liquor store to buy a bottle was the understanding that as soon as I drank the first glass, I’d be obsessing
...more
