Not all questions have answers. The most honest answers, though, do follow questions. Just not necessarily those that have been asked.
Recently, I’ve been trying to confirm what I think I know to be true: Swenny has relapsed. In the absence of proof are questions. And only questions.
Is Swenny sober? Does he forget conversations because we have so many that he can’t keep track? Or is he just tired of having the same conversation again and again? Does balance elude him because he is tired? Or tipsy? Is humiliation really the reason he refuses to take a breathalyzer? Doesn’t he want to prove me wrong in my assumption that he’s relapsed? Or can’t he? What did he spend $7.47 on yesterday? How much is a pint of vodka, anyways?
Where is he hiding the bottles?
Why won’t he look at me?
What is it that I really want to know? That he’s sober? Or that he’s not?
If the truth sometimes rests most comfortably in answers to questions that remain unasked, I need to learn how to choose mine more carefully.