Isaac’s alarm went off at 5 p.m. He sat up in bed in a puddle of sweat. The blackout curtains in his bedroom didn’t do much to prevent the heat from creeping in on these hot summer days. He wiped the sweat from his brow and peeled off his wet undershirt. He stood up and yanked the covers off the bed. He smirked and shook his head at his twin printed in perspiration across the mattress. Isaac walked to his wooden dresser and removed a fresh set of bedsheets. Sherice did not like coming home to a sweaty mattress—one of the several contentious subjects between them. 

Isaac struggled every day to be a well-adjusted person. He lived with his family in a two-bedroom apartment not far from the inner harbor. Isaac worked nights as a driver, and Sherice worked days as a middle school teacher. They did their best to make time for each other, but with tight schedules, passive love-making, and weak communication, they were in a slump. Resentments. Jobs. Stress. Exhaustion. The expensive area Sherice chose for them to live due to safety concerns was an overreaction in Isaac’s opinion. During his long nights in his luxury sedan he could barely justify leasing for work, a depression would often wash over him. Even with his program to keep him grounded, a recipe for acting out was brewing inside Isaac. He knew what he was feeling. He was almost ready to let go. 

He tried to keep it together for his family, for his teenage daughter, Jada.

Isaac showered and got dressed. On his way to the kitchen to make coffee, he found his daughter watching TV on her tablet on the living room sofa.

“Hey sweetie,” Isaac said.

“Hey,” Jada replied.

Isaac opened the fridge door and realized they needed groceries. The fridge contained variations of juices, flavored seltzer water, condiments, and a half empty bottle of wine. There was a bottom drawer containing veggies that Isaac avoided. On the middle shelf was a brown paper bag folded neatly with the word “Dad” written on it. Isaac looked over his shoulder at Jada staring at her tablet. He subtly closed the fridge door, pretending not to see the bag, and opened the freezer door. The freezer was packed with frozen foods—pizzas, burritos, waffles, and burgers. Isaac began to reach for a frozen burrito. Jada popped her head up from the couch. 

“I made you something,” she said with a smile.

Isaac’s shoulders sank. “Thank you, sweetie.” He could smell the baby carrots through the paper bag. 

Isaac reopened the fridge and pulled out the brown bag. He dropped it on the counter and opened it. Inside was a bag of baby carrots and a PB&J. The coffee maker beeped and he filled his thermos. He gave it a sip. He enjoyed drinking it black. He turned to Jada.

“Why don’t you use the big TV?” asked Isaac. The living room flatscreen TV was rarely used anymore. 

“I don’t know. It takes too long,” she said.

“It takes too long to press a button on a remote? C’mon, girl. What are you watching, anyway?” 

Isaac walked over to the couch with coffee in hand. Jada began swiping on the tablet. Isaac extended his hand.

“Give it here,” he said.

She handed it to him and he looked at the screen. He was bombarded with a bright video of a fast-talking teenage internet star with rainbow colored hair doing a makeup tutorial. He handed it back to her.

“She’s talking so fast I can’t even understand what she’s saying.” 

Jada laughed. “You sound so old.”

“Alright, whatever, girl. I’m going to work.” Isaac leaned over the couch and kissed her on the forehead. 

“Bye, dad.” 

He grabbed his work bag and his paper bag. “Your mother texted me. She's gonna be coming home late, but not too late. So don’t you get any ideas.”

“Okay, dad, byyyyeeee.” 

“See ya!” 

Isaac swung the apartment door open and closed it behind him. He exhaled. He was free. He marched down the hall ready to start the evening. He drove straight to the harbor and parked near the Baltimore Visiting Center to get a juicy cheeseburger from the food truck serving nearby with its buzzing neon sign. HOTDOGS! BURGERS! PIZZA! He bought some food and sat in his sedan overlooking the water of the inner harbor that emptied into the Chesapeake Bay. Crowds of people strolled by his car checking out the sites and local attractions. He took another bite from his burger and washed it down with a sip of Diet Cola, trading bites with his fries. His mind drifted to his program. Isaac was a man of many vices, but over the years he had regained control.

Isaac had been sober since Jada was five. Alcohol, weed, and the more than occasional line of cocaine sent him on a downward spiral. He cleaned up with AA meetings. He found a sponsor. He started going to church. He put his faith in a higher power. He thought he did all the right things, but even eight years later he still felt as though he was missing something. Some last piece of the puzzle to happiness got lost in the noise of life. He took another sip of soda. Isaac weighed a little more than he wanted to. He had been trying to lose the same twenty pounds for years now. Most weeks, he didn’t really see the point anymore. He ate another fry.

The nature of his job and the hours he worked provided him with ample stories to tell. Business would pick up after 9 p.m. most nights. He would cruise near the dance clubs and bars around 11 p.m. After 1 a.m., things usually got interesting. Isaac had seen it all. People high on drugs. Drunk women pushing their barely conscious girlfriend into his backseat. Fighting couples. Wasted couples. Horny couples. These situations were to be expected while driving at night. The night driving was the only part of his job he found interesting. Some days he felt it was the only interesting part of his life. 

At 1:32 a.m., in the middle of an expectedly busy Thursday night bar scene, his services were requested at a noisy sports pub. The ETA on the app said six minutes. When Isaac pulled up in front of the pub, people were pouring out the front door to smoke cigarettes, talk, and wait for rides. He noticed the familiar face of a man chatting with two women on the sidewalk. One of the women showed the man her phone screen, and he immediately stomped out his cigarette. Isaac observed his drunken gait as he approached the car. 

The man opened the rear passenger-side door laughing and loudly thanked the woman. He slid into the car and shut the door behind him. 

“Hey,” said the man.

He fumbled with his seatbelt as he strapped it on. Hearing the man’s voice, Isaac recognized Rashad. Rashad attended AA meetings regularly for his first two years. Then, gradually, Isaac saw him less and less at meetings, eventually not at all. Isaac kept looking forward and tapped his phone mounted on the dash. An address a few blocks away appeared. 

“This is your destination?” asked Isaac.

Rashad unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned forward.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Rashad glanced at Isaac’s face and his smile faded away. He silently leaned back in his seat like a child busted for stealing candy. He said nothing. Isaac put the vehicle into drive and drove off. Isaac pulled up to a red light at an intersection. Reprimanding relapses was not part of his program. He chose to stay silent and do his job. Even though part of him knew seeing Rashad like this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. The light turned green and he pressed on. Rashad was unnervingly quiet, and Isaac could feel the inclination to engage brewing in his backseat. 

“So . . . you got nothing?” asked Rashad. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You know, it’s me, Rashad. You’ve got no speech? No comments?”

Isaac kept his eyes on the road. “No speech.”

Rashad laughed. “It’s okay, man. Lemme have it. Say I told you so. I get it.”

Isaac said nothing. He flicked his signal and mad a left turn. Rashad became impatient. 

“You know, you AA guys are all the same. You talked to me in those halls like you’re the father I never had and now you’re gonna judge me in silence?” 

“I’m not judging you.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Rashad took out his cellphone and started scrolling through it. Isaac glanced in the rearview mirror. The glare from Rashad’s phone lit up his face and his glassy eyes in the darkness. 

“How are you doing?” asked Isaac.

“I thought you said no speech.”

“No speech, just a question.”

“I’m doing pretty damn good. I’m meeting some friends to chill. You mind if I smoke?”

Isaac held down buttons on his door and the rear windows rolled down. The summer night’s breeze swept through the vehicle. Rashad fished a cigarette out from his pack and lit it. 

“You want one?” asked Rashad.

“I quit.” 

“You are . . . on top of things.”

They rode in silence for a moment. 

“I thought chain-smoking and guzzling coffee was part of recovery? At least every meeting I went to.”

“It’s a preference of some, maybe the majority. I don’t know.”

“Don’t you miss the edge? I missed it.” Rashad scooted closer and continued. “This is temporary, though. I’m gonna come back just like before.”

Rashad reeked of Isaac’s past life. Isaac rolled his window down. Rashad noticed and quickly sat back.

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s okay.”

There was another pause in the conversation.

“How’s work?” Isaac asked. “Do you have work in the morning?”

“I called out. Taking a three-day weekend.”

“How many times have you called out this week?”

“Stop.”

“How many times this month?”

“Stop!”

Isaac complied and focused on the road.

“How about you go back to silently judging? That will work better for both of us. I’m coming back, Isaac. This is temporary.” 

Isaac said nothing.

“I got two years, man. The first was amazing. It was challenging, emotional, and it was a big change. The second, I just felt . . . nothing. Autopilot. Limbo. Nothing new to discover about myself, and believe me, I dug deep. Crippling boredom is what I was feeling.” 

“Boredom. That is a pesky one.”

“How do you do it? I mean, next time around, I’m gonna look out for it. Maybe get a hobby.” 

“Boredom is fleeting. Just like pain, anger, and sadness.” 

Rashad leaned back and laughed. “Not my kind of sadness, I guess. Whatever is broken inside of me just keeps on creeping back. I’m not like you. I’m still searching.”

Isaac turned onto a street of brick townhouses with cement steps. Dozens of parked cars crowded the curbs. Isaac pulled in front of a townhouse where a small party seemed to be underway. He put the car in park in the street. 

“This is it,” Isaac said as he unlocked the doors with the press of a button. He looked back at Rashad, who was visibly upset. “We are not broken people, Rashad. Are you sure you want to go in there?”

A drunk man in a white t-shirt opened the front door to the party. He walked out onto the cement steps and lit a cigarette. Rashad opened the car door.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you around.” Rashad stepped out of the car and leaned down towards the open front passenger window. “I mean that, man. I’ll see you soon.”

“I hope so. Have a good night, Rashad. Be safe.”

Rashad backed onto the curb and withdrew another cigarette. Isaac focused on the road. He put the car in drive and slowly pulled away, waving at Rashad. Rashad waved back. Isaac’s foot hovered over the gas pedal as he drifted forward. He sifted through scenarios in his head. What was he to do but to let Rashad be his own man? If he were perhaps a different man himself, maybe he would try to bring Rashad to his home to sleep it off. But Isaac was not a different man. There were too many contacts in his phone, young men just like Rashad. He did what he could but he helped from a distance. 

Isaac pushed these thoughts from his head and pressed on the gas. He noticed an empty parking space a few cars ahead on the same street. Before he could realize it, he was already pulling into the spot just a few houses down. He put the car in park and sat there. He wasn’t sure what the voice inside of him was telling him to do. Isaac looked in the rearview mirror. He could see Rashad standing outside the house with his cigarette watching his car. Isaac sat there. He needed a sign. Drunken rambling about fresh starts was one thing, but he needed one small action. So he waited. Rashad continued to stare. He flicked his cigarette and started walking towards Isaac’s car. That was the sign. The Rashad Isaac knew was still there. Isaac stepped out of the car and started walking toward Rashad. They met at a halfway point on the sidewalk between the party and the car. 

“What’s up?” asked Rashad.

Isaac looked Rashad in his eyes. A familiar feeling began to wash over both of them. It wasn’t quite sadness or guilt or anger. It was exhaustion. 

“I’m still searching, too,” said Isaac.

His eyes followed Rashad’s as he tried to look away. Isaac put his hand on Rashad’s shoulder. Tears welled up in Rashad’s eyes. Rashad stood there, frozen on the sidewalk. Isaac pulled him in close and embraced him. Rashad embraced him back. 

*