When we had guests, the bottle stayed in the cupboard.
One day, when our daughter Emily was sixteen, she went into the kitchen and saw the bottle.
“What’s in it?” she asked curiously.
Victor picked it up and smiled.
“It’s a special family recipe. I’ll tell you the story one day.”
Emily shrugged and went back to her room.
I, however, kept thinking about his words.
Years passed, but our daily tradition didn’t change.
Once a month, Victor would receive a small package in the mail.
He kept it carefully, and soon after, a new, unmarked bottle would appear in the cupboard.
Every time I asked him where he was from, he would say he came from an old friend.
When I suggested asking him for the recipe, Victor would just smile.
“One day, I’ll tell you everything.”
One evening, I decided to put the glass down.
