As we stepped through the sliding glass doors of Walgreens, my dad’s words hung in the air. Avoiding eye contact with me, he muttered, “I need to pick up my pills, wait for me in the toy aisle.”  The doors closed behind us with a swoosh, and I watched him, unable to tear my eyes away. Before reaching the pharmacy window, he grabbed two small boxes off the shelf and discreetly slipped them into the pocket of his shiny Chicago Cubs jacket. My dad, a proud recovering alcoholic and devoted Alcoholics Anonymous member, had replaced his addiction to heroin, cocaine and booze with an unlikely substitute: Afrin nasal spray, which he referred to as “nose drops.” The more troubling addiction was how he acquired them. This scene played out far too often during my prepubescent years. As he pocketed items, I’d surreptitiously scan our surroundings, mortified, hoping nobody else had noticed. I’d keep my eyes locked on the store employees, watching for any sign of suspicion.…