Comfortably Smug

Rob, who'd been eating, put down his fork.

What got us through was two books, Tweaked and Beautiful Boy, citing addiction memoirs.

Something poignant, even sad, abided.

Unable to access the mind of his own son, he turned to the words of strangers to let him in.

And then just a couple more.

For all the talk about catharsis and success, something felt unsuccessful.

I later checked in with their publicist.

She thought everything was fine, but it didn't feel fine.

It felt like things were better, but far from resolved.

Like the last pile of living room mess before company arrives.

A family at dinner turned its attention to a line Rob insisted make it into the film.

Quote, I'd rather have you alive and hating me than dead on the streets.

Rob really, really wanted it in.

It explained his actions, justified them, even though he was now apologizing for thinking that way, for being so hard on his son.

I looked at Nick.

He didn't seem so happy to have that line in the film.

It was perhaps too excusing of the kind of parental pushing he didn't want to excuse.

The proposition was also based on a flawed assumption.

Hate did not automatically mean recovery.

I asked Nick what he thought.