Page 35 of Sapphire Spring

“I guess you don’t have a use for it.”

“I do not.” Shirley smiled. “I haven’t had a drink in fortyyears.”

“Impressive.”

“Is this all the liquor in the house?”

“Yes.” Mason felt a butterfly’s flutter inside his chest.

“Are you lying to me?”

The butterfly turned into a wasp that stung his heart. “Yes.”

He expected Shirley to yell at him. Instead, she smiledbigger and said, “Good. Let’s get to work. Show me all your hiding places.”

“Do you do this professionally?”

“I don’t make money off this, no. Should we start in thebedroom or the garage?”

“What about the coffee?”

Shirley smiled again. “I set it to keep warm.”

Feeling as if his bones had turned molten, Mason said, “Thewet bar’s right here.”

He popped open the glass doors and began setting the mostlyempty bottles onto the counter. She searched under the kitchen sink, found a stackof flattened brown paper grocery delivery bags he’d been meaning to recycle,and began unfolding them one at a time. Then she started filling them withbottles.

For a while, the two of them worked in silence, neither oneacknowledging the oddness and abruptness of what they were doing. It didn’ttake long. Soon the bags were so full the bottoms would tear if they liftedthem off the counter.

Then he took her to the bedroom. From the top shelf of hiscloset, he removed three full bottles of Absolut, and from the nightstand, asilver-plated flask full of the same, which he emptied into the bathroom sinkwhile she watched. They carried them to the kitchen, and he fell silent. Shegave him a look that was calm, knowing, unimpressed, a look that said,Iknow we’re not done.Sohe took her to thegarage. There, tucked into a niche behind the water heater and wrapped in apacking blanket, he extracted six more bottles of Absolut and three six-packsof Corona, like an earthquake emergency kit for a booze hound. Shirley seemedunfazed. She collected the bottles dutifully and without comment.

They returned to the kitchen. The insane amount of liquorspread out on Mason’s bar counter was testament enough to the problem that haddefined his life for years now. But this time when he felt shame, he also felta tug of release at the end. A sense of hope. He was quitting, after all. He’dsaid it out loud.

Made a promise not just to himself, but to his nosynext-door neighbor.

But wow. It was going to be a lot to quit.

And still Shirley was looking at him. No judgment. Justpersistence.

“Should we visit your medicine cabinet?” she asked.

Jesus, she was good.

“I’m antidepressant free at the current time.”

“Cute, sweetie, but I’m not talking about daily medicationsprescribed by medical professionals. I’m talking about the other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Mason asked.

“You know, stuff you talked your way into but didn’t reallyneed. Old pain meds you’ve been hoarding since some procedure a year ago. Otherpeople’s prescriptions they gave you because you gave them that charming smileof yours.”

Shirley Baxter, it seemed, had done this before.

Mason grinned. “You think I’m charming?”

“A smile and a man are two different things. Let’s have alook.”

She patted him on the shoulder and headed past him for thestairs. And just like that, they were standing in his bathroom as Shirleyopened the medicine cabinet. A day before, this would have seemed like anoutrageous violation. Now it felt essential for his survival. She found theXanax immediately, read the label, and held it out for him to see. “Have youbeen diagnosed with anxiety disorder?”

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