Jeff sat in the back of the cab chewing on the inside of his mouth. He had been looking at the same city block for nearly twenty minutes. He didn’t believe he would miss his flight, even with such a long delay. He had quite the knack for punctuality. Even so, he would be cutting it close.

He rubbed his palms on his jeans. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the plane took off without him. This trip was not one he was particularly eager to be taking anyway. But missing it would start a fight.

Probably. Jeff wasn’t entirely sure. Emily did say she was done with him. Or done with this. He couldn’t remember. But she had said that kind of stuff before. On more than one occasion. She never meant it. She actually meant that she wanted things to be different. And each time they were. For a little while. But the good stretches got shorter and shorter. This time was different, though. This time, Jeff was committed to getting clean.

The car lurched forward, and the jarring sound of metal against metal snapped Jeff back into the present. They were moving, but only just, and not smoothly. Jeff wondered what would possess a person to buy a car they didn’t know how to drive. It was a good thing he didn’t get carsick.

As the taxi settled into yet another stop, Jeff hoisted his backpack off the floor and onto the seat. He unzipped the side pocket and pulled out a pamphlet with a picture of a man looking up to the sky, arms outstretched. The text across the top read: Sober Living.

“Marissa told me about that place,” Emily said after Jeff found the pamphlet on her kitchen table.

“I wish you wouldn’t tell that woman all of our business,” Jeff mumbled, turning the pamphlet over. He could feel heat rising up his face and pressure building in his ears.

“She’s my best friend, Jeff,” Emily sighed. “Besides, I don’t have to tell her much. She has eyes, you know. She’s not an idiot.”

“So, this is it, huh?” Jeff snapped. He waved the flyer around out in front of him. “This is where you’re shipping me off to?”

Emily winced, but her voice was calm. “I’m not shipping you anywhere. It’s your decision to make.”

“Oh, really?” Jeff fumed. “My decision? This doesn’t feel like my decision! This feels pretty damn forced! You’re sending me off to some camp like an unwanted child!” Before he knew what was happening, Jeff gripped the dining chair next to him with both hands and lobbed it across the kitchen floor, the pamphlet flying through the air behind it.

The car lurched again, and something dropped out of Jeff’s bag and rolled into the groove under his leg. He reached down and picked up a small glass vial, halfway filled with a clear liquid, and an eye dropper tightly screwed in the top. Jeff turned the vial over in his fingers, keeping it close to his lap. He doubted the driver would know what it was, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

As he watched the liquid roll around, he became aware of his clammy and trembling hands. He made a fist around the tiny bottle and looked out the cab window. They crawled through an intersection, and Jeff realized his favorite dealer worked at a club just a few blocks from here. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but there would still be some people sitting at the bar. He could…

No, he thought. No. I can’t.

“You okay back there?” the driver asked, looking at Jeff in the rearview mirror.

Jeff realized his knee was bouncing, and he had been tapping the pamphlet on it quite loudly. He steadied himself and forced a smile.

“Yeah,” he said. “I just… hate flying.”

“Don’t I know that!” the driver said. “If man was meant to fly, he’d-a been born with wings. That’s what I say. I’ll keep both my feet right here on the ground, thank you very much.”

Jeff chuckled and looked back down at his hands; an escape clamped in each one.

He and Emily had been together for the better part of five years. Why she had put up with him so long, he never could figure out. As it turned out, she hadn’t been putting up with him as well as he’d thought. She had kicked him out almost a month ago. She took him back a week later as she always did, but there were stipulations. First, he was not moving back in. Second…. Sober Living.

“Is this the only way?” Jeff had asked her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “This is it.”

His stomach turned. A single bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. Jeff couldn’t tell if it was the withdrawals or the weight of his situation, but he suddenly felt very ill. He was on his last chance. It was for real this time. But right now, it didn’t seem as serious anymore. Only one thing mattered. His knee bounced frantically, but he didn’t try to calm it this time.

“Hey, man. I was just kidding,” the driver said. “Flying’s not so bad. They say it’s even safer than driving! I’m sure you’ll be—”

“Pull over,” Jeff said. “I need out.”

“Are you sure? Traffic is starting to cl—”

“I’m going to be sick!” Jeff snapped.

“Okay! Okay!” The driver put a hand up defensively.

The driver worked the cab over into an empty spot. Jeff unscrewed the bottle and emptied the dropper into his mouth. He felt the driver’s eyes on him. “For nausea,” he said, closing the vial and shoving it into his pocket. He wiped his face and paid his fare with damp bills.

“This is it,” Jeff whispered, his whole body shaking. He gripped his bag and stumbled out onto the sidewalk, leaving the pamphlet on the backseat.