THE PILLS IN THE WINTER BOOT

Dear Delyara, I broke my back at a construction site two years ago. The doctor prescribed painkillers. Then another doctor stopped prescribing them. I did not stop needing them. I hide the pills inside an old winter boot in the garage because my wife never goes through the boxes near the furnace. I tell her my back is improving. I tell my employer I’m ready for extra shifts. I tell my son never to put unknown medicine in his mouth. Every morning, I swear I will take only one. By noon, I have taken three. Last week I used money from my daughter’s school-trip envelope to buy more. She thinks the school lost her payment because that is what I told my wife. My little girl apologized for not giving the envelope directly to her teacher. She apologized to me. There are moments when I see exactly what I have become. Then the pain starts—real pain, imagined pain, withdrawal, shame, all of it tangled together—and I reach for the boot again.