Page 132 of Go Find Less

But then, Melissa and Oscar had physically blocked me from even coming outside. Literally held the door closed so I couldn’t be a part of the conversation they were having about my husband. About the man that I’d been taking care of since his diagnosis, sacrificing my career, my livelihood, my health, all so they could sit in the comfort of this living room and garner sympathy from their small town. About the man I loved.

So hours later, hearing them talk like that was painful - but not surprising. They’d been trying to convince him to move back to the town he escaped from practically since his diagnosis, and his insistence had never wavered. I didn’t think it ever would.

Present Day

“Whataboutthisone?”Alex holds up what’s got to be the eighth turquoise dress of the day, swaying on the hanger as she attempts to get it high enough for me to see.

“No,” I call, not even bothering to really give it a look.

Turquoise looks good on Alex, who’s blonde and fair skinned and currently huffing at my reaction to her suggestions. It washes me out, makes my hair look too dark, and truthfully, is often unflattering on my curves.

“I feel like we’re less close to finding something than we were when the day started,” Seer muses from the rack next to me. I can’t help but agree.

We’d come to the mall with four main objectives: 1. An outfit for our reunion; 2. An outfit for the fairy ball; 3. A new pair of running shoes for our upcoming 5K for the Cure, which was the day after the ball, and 4. A gift for Freddy for his graduation. After what feels like ten different stores, we’re currently stuck on 1.

“Ok.” I huff, digging in my purse for my phone. I scan the mall directory. “Let’s find the tennis shoes, then we can circle back on the reunion and ball.”

“Thank God,” Alex says, and I follow her and Seer toward the entrance back into the bustling hall in the mall. For a Friday mid-day, it’s surprisingly busy, but we fall into the flow as Alex checks her texts. “Mickie is all good, Vic said he’s meeting us up here after lunch with Carla.”

“How’d his interview go?” I ask, and she clicks away at the screen. Vic took a PTO day for an interview this morning, and while he wouldn’t tell me who it was with, he seemed excited. I think the prospect of having to sit next to whoever AllHearts hires to replace me is pushing him out faster than he’d originally intended.

I’ve had a total of four interviews this week, with more lined up for next week, but honestly - the one I was interested in the most was on Frannie’s team at WHG.

Carla insisted I take some time to think on it - like any good Alcoholic friend would. But even without the promise of seeing Fitz every day in the office, or working on a team lead by Francesca Westfall, who I’m learning is a force to be reckoned with, the position is alluring. Brand Manager? Make things pretty for a living and still have the creative energy to design on the side? 401k match, 100% of health, vision and dental covered, five weeks of vacation plus sick time and parental leave? A millennial's wet dream, that’s what the job is.

“He didn’t say, but considering there is no mention of tequila shots, I’d guess well.” I feel myself ease a bit, and look over to Seer.

“Is it hard, bartending when you’re sober?” She doesn’t even pause at my words as she slips through crowds of people walking the wrong direction, going straight ahead like they’re going to plow into us.

“Not really.” She hitches her bag higher on her shoulder, a well-worn designer tote with a silver charm hanging off the handle. I’d realized earlier in the day it was a constellation - Scorpio, to be exact. “I was never really much of a bar drinker. Like, sure, I’d have one here or there.” Seer shrugs. “But I did my worst blackout drinking by myself.”

“Same.” I nod, understanding completely. These were the things that varied from drunk to drunk - were you a social drinker, or a loner? Liquor, or beer? Do you need three meetings a week to cling onto your sobriety, or did you stop and never look back?

Seer didn’t strike me as the three meetings a week kinda girl, but I could be wrong.

“Honestly, I keep alcohol in the house now.” I feel myself freeze when she says this, just for a moment. “The idea of picking it up to actually drink it again makes me physically ill.”

“In the house?” I echo, and someone bumps into me from behind. I shake myself out of it, catching up to her and Alex, who’s half paying attention while scrolling through what I assume are pictures of Mickie from her mother in law.

“After this,” Seer starts, and then points to her ear, where I can just make out one of the tiny hearing aids, “it’s not AA keeping me sober. It’s the idea that one drink, and I could kill someone, because I know that after one drink, I'm gone.” I nod again.

“Fitz hasn’t told me any of your story.” She glances at me, and I swear I see a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“I’d be surprised if he knows any of it, to be honest.” She makes a quick turn, and we cut through one of the stores at the center of the mall which I know will lead to the sports outlet on the other side. “He was too busy with his head up his ass to notice anything.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Alex chimes in, and I realize she’s paying attention again. “I don’t think I could bartend knowing I’ll never have another drink again.”

“It’s not the alcohol, really.” Seer sniffs, clearing her throat after we make it through a cloud of salesmen spraying cologne mid–air. I try not to cough. “After a while, in the program or not, you realize that the alcohol isn’t the problem. The problem is you, and it’s how you own up to that idea that determines your success.”

She’s not wrong - it’s an idea that’s taken years of expensive therapy to unravel.

“Ok, Gandhi.” Alex laughs, throwing an arm around Seer’s shoulder, which is low, even for my best friend. “Let’s get these tennis shoes and then some lunch, Mama’s starving.”

“Is Mama going to continue referring to herself in the third person?” I ask.

“Mama will bitch-slap you if you keep testing her.”

Lunched and set with a new pair of running shoes, we meet with Vic and Carla in one of the anchoring department stores, where I find a wide-brimmed tan hat and put it on, striking a pose.

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