Cloudya

“Do you want a sip?” he asks.

And I do. I really, really do. It’s been a hell of a day and there’s nothing I want more. But I shake my head.

“Alcoholic,” I say. Anything less, I know, won’t be enough. Anything less, and the sloppy, good-natured wheedling will ensue, and I don’t have the strength to fight that.

So I say it. Alcoholic. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. The first time I’ve pinned the label on myself. I thought I would feel more shame. But instead I feel relief. Instead I feel a little bit of pride.

I made a choice. I took a stand.

For today, at least, I said no.