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By
noon
the
craving
for
a
drink
had
become
a
low
-
grade
fever
.
He
went
to
Al
’
s
.
"
You
dry
?
"
Al
asked
before
letting
him
in
.
Al
looked
horrible
.
"
Bone
dry
.
You
look
like
Lon
Chaney
in
Phantom
of
the
Opera
.
"
"
Come
on
in
.
"
They
played
two
-
handed
whist
all
afternoon
.
They
didn
’
t
drink
.
A
week
passed
.
He
and
Wendy
didn
’
t
speak
much
.
But
he
knew
she
was
watching
,
not
believing
.
He
drank
coffee
black
and
endless
cans
of
Coca
-
Cola
.
One
night
he
drank
a
whole
six
-
pack
of
Coke
and
then
ran
into
the
bathroom
and
vomited
it
up
.
The
level
of
the
bottles
in
the
liquor
cabinet
did
not
go
down
.
After
his
classes
he
went
over
to
Al
Shockley
’
s
-
she
hated
Al
Shockley
worse
than
she
had
ever
hated
anyone
-
and
when
he
came
home
she
would
swear
she
smelled
scotch
or
gin
on
his
breath
,
but
he
would
talk
lucidly
to
her
before
supper
,
drink
coffee
,
play
with
Danny
after
supper
,
sharing
a
Coke
with
him
,
read
him
a
bedtime
story
,
then
sit
and
correct
themes
with
cup
after
cup
of
black
coffee
by
his
hand
,
and
she
would
have
to
admit
to
herself
that
she
had
been
wrong
.
Weeks
passed
and
the
unspoken
word
retreated
further
from
the
back
of
her
lips
.
Jack
sensed
its
retirement
but
knew
it
would
never
retire
completely
.
Things
began
to
get
a
little
easier
.
Then
George
Hatfield
.
He
had
lost
his
temper
again
,
this
time
stone
sober
.
"
Sir
,
your
party
still
doesn
’
t
-
"
"
Hello
?
"
Al
’
s
voice
,
out
of
breath
.
