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I look around the Room. My Parents are huddled in a corner softly speaking to each other. They see me. I hold up one finger and my Father nods at me and I go to the coffee machine. I get a cup, black and steaming, and I walk toward them.

They stand as I approach. They are smiling and they have changed their clothes, though the clothes are more or less the same. My Mother has redone her hair and her makeup and it is perfect again and my Father’s blazer is crisply pressed. I can see the effort behind their smiles and with each step closer, I want to turn and run. My Father speaks.

How are you, James?

Been better. You?

I think we’ve been better too.

There is silence, smiling. I wish the smiling would stop. My Mother speaks.

Do you want to sit with us?

I nod, we sit. They are side by side, I am across from them. There is a table between us, it has an ashtray. I reach into my pocket for my cigarettes and I take them out. My Mother frowns.

Could you not smoke, please?

Why?

Because I just changed my clothes and I don’t want them to smell.

Fine.

I put the cigarettes back into my pocket. My Mother watches me.

Are you going to quit those things while you’re here?

No.

Why?

Because I don’t want to quit these things.

Why not?

I’ll give you a choice, Mom. I can either smoke cigarettes or smoke crack. You make the call.

She recoils, obviously hurt. I knew it would happen, but I did it anyway. My Father speaks.

I don’t think you need to speak to your Mother that way, James. Obviously we’d rather have you smoke cigarettes than smoke crack.

Then don’t give me shit about it.

Don’t speak to us that way.

I reach for my cup of coffee and I drink it in one gulp. It’s hot and steaming and it burns my mouth, but I don’t care. I pull the cup away and I speak.

I’m gonna get some more coffee. You want some?

My Father looks at my Mother. My Mother shakes her head no and her expression tells me she’s still hurt. My Father looks back at me.

I think we’re fine.

I stand and I walk back to the coffee machine. As I fill my cup, a tall and thin man dressed like my Father rings a bell hanging near the door. Everyone turns toward him. He tells us that we’re going to split into groups and that the groups will meet in separate Rooms. He points to a pair of doors against the wall opposite the glass wall and he starts reading names. When People hear their names called, they stand and they go through the doors. As I walk back to the corner where my Parents are sitting, the man says my name. I continue toward my Parents and when I reach them, I speak.

Looks like I’ve got to go.

My Father nods, my Mother looks like she’s going to cry. I turn and I start to walk away. My Father speaks.

James?

I turn around.

We’re sorry about the smoking remarks.

My Mother nods. Tears start running down her cheeks.

We know you’ve got a lot that you’re trying to deal with right now and we know you’re doing the best you can, so if you need to, it’s okay if you smoke around us.

I smile. This simple gesture breaks my heart.

Thank you.

My Father smiles, and beneath her tears, my Mother smiles. Her smile makes me feel a little better.

I’ll see you tonight.

I turn and I walk to my door. I walk through it and I enter another large Room. It is white, bright and cheery. There are inspirational pictures on the walls with phrases like Take It Day by Day, Let Go and Let God, Easy Does It. There is thick carpet on the floor and there are folding chairs spread in a wide circle around the Room. There are People sitting in the chairs. I find an empty chair without anybody on either side of it and I sit down. I am alone for a moment, but then a pregnant woman sits on one side of me and a gray-haired man sits on the other. The Room fills up, and for every Patient here there are about three Family Members. Everyone looks nervous.

A woman walks in she’s in her thirties wearing khakis and Birkenstocks and wool socks and a chorded sweater. She has brown hair, green eyes and looks as if she could be a model. She sits in