“Come on. I want to get you a Christmas gift. Isn’t there something you want?”

“I’ve got you. That’s more than I could have imagined this time last year.”

“And you really didn’t get anything last year?”

“I got my stomach pumped… on Christmas eve.”

“Oh”

“It’s ok. I’m clean now. Santa came to visit me in the hospital.”

“Santa?”

“Well, not the real Santa. I just call him that. I don’t know his name. He was some kind of preacher or something. He talked to me about forgiveness, second chances and starting over. He introduced me to the women’s center. That was a real turning point for me. I’ve been clean for four months now. I’m sorry. I know I should have mentioned this earlier, but I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Four months is long a time.”

“It’s a personal record for me.”

“That’s fantastic. So isn’t there something you want for Christmas?”

“I don’t make wishes any more.”

“Is it ok if I wish to be with you this Christmas?”

“I think that would be a wonderful wish.”

“So why don’t you wish for something?”

“I’ve just learned that sometimes we’re better off when we don’t get what we ask for.”

“I guess that could be. What did you wish for last year?”

“To die”