In an ideal world, perhaps I would humbly walk over to her and ask her how she is. I noticed that you were drinking quite a bit of the wine and I wanted to know if you would like to talk about that. She would say “sure” and we would sit down on the red sofa in the gallery and get to the heart of her alcoholism. She would cry and have an epiphany, realizing that white wine is not the solution to her frustrations. I would walk her out, feeling as if I had done my duty.
In reality, if I were to ask her how she is, she would probably say “fine” and walk out. Nevertheless, even the prospect of walking over to her shuts down my mind.
A teenager stepping into the complicated life of a much older stranger. How patronizing; how thoughtful.
—Robert J. Saranchak