I ordered a BLT with Thousand Island dressing on it and, considering my last cholesterol count, figured I was the one being rebellious and brave. We did her homework together, which was a breeze for her and taxing for me, then I asked her what she wanted to do. I was willing to do anything — a movie, the mall, whatever she wanted — but I was hoping she’d just want to go home to my place and hang out, maybe pull out some old family scrapbooks and look at the yellowed photos.

She hesitated in responding and I thought I knew why.

“There’s nobody staying at my place if that’s what you’re worried about, Hay. The lady you met, Lanie? She doesn’t visit me anymore.”

“You mean like she’s not your girlfriend anymore?”

“She never was my girlfriend. She was a friend. Remember when I stayed in the hospital last year? I met her there and we became friends. We try to watch out for each other, and every now and then she comes over when she doesn’t want to stay home alone.”

It was the shaded truth. Lanie Ross and I had met in rehab during group therapy. We continued the relationship after leaving the program but never consummated it as a romance, because we were emotionally incapable of it. The addiction had cauterized those nerve endings and they were slow to come back. We spent time with each other and were there for each other — a two-person support group. But once we were back in the real world, I began to recognize in Lanie a weakness. I instinctively knew she wasn’t going to go the distance and I couldn’t make the journey with her. There are three roads that can be taken in recovery. There is the clean path of sobriety and there is the road to relapse. The third way is the fast out. It is when the traveler realizes that relapse is just a slow suicide and there is no reason to wait. I didn’t know which of those second two roads Lanie would go down but I couldn’t follow either one. We finally went our separate ways, the day after Hayley had met her.

“You know, Hayley, you can always tell me if you don’t like something or there’s something I am doing that is bothering you.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

We were silent for a few moments and I thought she wanted to say something else. I gave her the time to work up to it.

“Hey Dad?”

“What, baby?”

“If that lady wasn’t your girlfriend, does that mean you and Mom might get back together?”

The question left me without words for a few moments. I could see the hope in Hayley’s eyes and wanted her to see the same in mine.

“I don’t know, Hay. I messed things up pretty good when we tried that last year.”