Page 51 of Sapphire Spring

“Soit’s going to be a surprise?”Mason asked once they’d cleared his guard gate.

“Yep.”

And with that single short word, Mason’s libido, newlypurged of the many depressants that had sometimes watered it down, explodedwith fantasies of what was to come.

He saw them pulling up to a seedy, dirty motel. Naserthrowing open the door to a room he’d prepared with a sling and a table full ofsex toys. Preferably to be used on Naser, since Mason had zero experience beingon the bottom. Although the idea of Naser tying him down and meting out a slowand special punishment gave him a delicious thrill. One guy Mason had hooked upwith a few times had talked about bath houses, which Mason had thought were arelic of a bygone era. But apparently LA still had a few, and guys shuffled inthere at all hours for release. Did Orange County have one? Was Naser takinghim to one now?

When Naser finally pulled into the parking lot of an Irvinestrip mall anchored by a Starbucks and a Jamba Juice, Mason found himselflooking for blacked-out windows and vague neon signage. Maybe some kind ofsecret all-male massage parlor where they were about to live out a public sexfantasy.

Naser parked, said, “Follow me, please,” then stepped fromthe car without checking to make sure Mason had complied.

Paces from the entrance to their destination, Mason saw notblacked-out windows, but a giant rainbow logo painted under the wordsOUTLIVE!Beneath the rainbow was the phone number for something that billed itself as aCrisis & Suicide Prevention Hotline. His balls deflated a bit, and he got acold, vaguely sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The next thing he knew,they’d stepped into what looked like the carpeted waiting room of a doctor’soffice. The gaunt, elegantly dressed woman behind the desk got to her feet witha warm smile and began addressing Naser in a language he suspected was Persian.They talked for a minute. When Naser finally introduced the woman as Leila, sheextended a slender hand and gave Mason a long, unreadable once-over.

“Welcome,” she said. “I’m the director of operations forOutlive. Shall we start with a tour?”

“Sure.” Naser started forward without waiting for Mason’sresponse.

Mason was afraid any response he gave aloud would be acroak, so he nodded and attempted a polite smile.

And suddenly they were moving through the cramped warren ofoffices, two of which were closed off by glass doors painted with the wordsQUIETPLEASE—Active Call Center. Inside, telephone operators wearingtelemarketer-sized headsets were either conducting calls or waiting for one tocome in. And on a wipe-off board on one wall was a freshly written list ofMentalHealth Professionals on Callfollowed by the first initials, lastnames, and phone numbers of what Mason assumed were psychiatrists orcounselors. The names had color coded abbreviations after them, and as Masonpeered through the window, he saw a code key explaining what each meant. They wereareas of expertise.GI = gender identity. TI = trans issues. TRS = traumaspecialists.The list went on and on.

He felt breathless and sweaty, and not in the way he’dplanned.

He was imagining being forced to sit and listen torecordings of panicked phone calls from young kids contemplating taking theirlife over who they were. Or sitting in a circle of chairs for three hours withbullying victims lecturing him on the impact of his behavior, like thoseapology tours celebrities went on after tweeting hateful trash. It would havebeen fitting, and maybe a far more appropriate amends than what he’d had inmind, but it wasn’t exactly exciting.

Would they let him use the bathroom first?

Leila explained the functions of Outlive as if he were apotential donor, and maybe that’s what Naser planned for him to be. The hotlinewas their reason for existence, but they also conducted outreaches for LGBTQIAyouth throughout the Orange County area. But their central purpose, sheexplained, was finding effective ways to turn what was often a desperateoutreach phone call into the first step on a path toward mental health supportand, in some cases, physical safety for the caller. How could a cry in the darkbecome astepping stone, was how she phrased it morethan once.

Throughout it all, Mason nodded, but his face felt hot andhis eyes dry, and he was feeling both called out and exposed. But nobody wastalking about him. Not really. Not yet. Still, Naser’s message was clear—howmany of these panicked late-night calls were coming from kids battling theirown versions of Mason, Chadwick, and Tim each day at school?

The tour ended in a crowded storage room where overstuffedcardboard boxes bulged.

“Sothis is where you’ll be,” Leilasaid, and Mason just nodded as if this made total sense, even though he had noidea what was planned for him next.

Naser was looking at him for the first time since the tourhad started. He wore the drowsy smile of Winnie the Pooh cradling a honeypot.

“So, as I’m sure Naser told you, we generate a considerableamount of paperwork as you can see, and after a while, we need to destroy it. Alot of what’s in here are from intake files for callers who got connected withcare and then moved on. Then others made an initial contact but never followedup, and if we haven’t heard from them after three years, we destroy the filefor confidentiality reasons. Andalsobecause, to befrank, storage is pricey, and we’re clearly running out of it.” She gestured toa plastic folding table and chair he’d missed upon entering. A large blackpaper shredder sat on the floor next to it. “So that’s what you’ll be doing.”

“For three hours.” Naser grinned.

Mason grinned back. The truth was, he felt a surge ofrelief.Sono lectures or painful listening tours.Just office work. He could survive office work. Even an overwhelmingly boringamount of it.

Suddenly Leila was extending a clipboard toward him. “Now,obviously you won’t be seeing any names here because we do our best to keep ourfiles confidential, but in case you do, this is a nondisclosure agreement Ineed you to sign. It just says you agree to keep the contents of everythingyou’re destroying todayabsolutely confidential. A lotof the contents of the files arepretty personal. Ihope that’s okay.”

“It’ll be fine,” Naser said. “He’s really good at signingthings.”

Mason’s smile hurt his face. He took the clipboard andstarted reading through the pages.

“All right, well, I’m manning reception while Crystal’s atlunch. You guys let me know if you need anything.” She was almost to the doorwhen she stopped. “Oh, andNas, just bring me theform once he signs it.”

Naser nodded.

And suddenly they were alone together.

“Number two.” Mason signed the form and handed Naser theclipboard.

“Number three, actually.” Naser took the clipboard andchecked the signature blank, which seemed a little officious. Was he concernedMason had signed the formDick Hunt?But they were his three hours, soMason wasn’t going to complain.

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