Some soap opera is on TV and he talks about how amazing the colors are. I laugh and try not to let on how high he’s acting. Still, he tells me that he’s sorry I have to see him like this. “It feels good,” he says. “But would I give it all up for this high? Would I give up Lucy? Michelle? My career? Our bike rides together? The friends I have?” I take his hand in mine, as awkward as that feels at first. “No,” he continues. “The life I’ve built for myself sober is better than any high a drug could ever give me.
