In the Gutter

Max had just gotten out of rehab a few days before National Night Out. Katie and I put on our "strong, united family" faces as we dressed Max and headed down the street, trying to remember people's names. It was bad enough that we had to worry about Max falling off the wagon again. . . . literally. Rimshot! Oh, that was awful, I'm sorry.

Anyway, Max is out of rehab and we're going down the street to Max's first social event since being out of rehab and we're totally wondering if he's going to, like, be "ok", you know? Everything seems to be going pretty well: Max is making nice comments about odd dessert bars and picking up on how to make awkward conversation with the neighbors. Everything is going really well, "Max is going to be ok," we think. "All that trouble is behind us," we sigh and look at each other thankfully.

Then a bus from the church down the street pulls up. Katie and I exchange nervous glances. People hop out of the bus and set up a table: "Who wants free root beer floats?!", they yell. We turned to gather Max and head home before the temptation became too much. Too late: Max was back in the gutter.