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Chloe is the epitome of elegance—exactly what I’d expect from a restaurant with the same name as my sister. In jeans and a peasant blouse, I’m clearly underdressed. But none of my old club clothes fit now that I’m no longer doing coke, and I can’t afford new ones on my coffee-shop and partial-disability salary.
I’d planned to get off government subsidization completely, but, after my not too distant relapse, my doctor wants me to wait a little longer before returning to work full-time.
“Recovery is your job,” he said.
So, here I am, ready to do the work sobriety requires.
“Jessica!” Mom is immaculately dressed in a Dolce & Gabbana pantsuit and holding a Chanel clutch. She doesn’t comment on my inadequate outfit or clogged pores. “This is exactly what I’ve been hoping for.”
You hav
