“Promise?”

“Promise,” I whisper to Sara, my eight-year-old child.

It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie!

I keep chanting to myself as I drop her home and walk away in silence.

Her mother, my wife, passed away due to COVID two years ago. My business failed. Our finances took a hit and I had to file bankruptcy.

I’ve been what people call ‘a raging alcoholic’ ever since.

It makes me chuckle, this term! Too specific for someone who has always...