Cabernet Zin (The Southern California Wine Country Series)

by J Gordon Smith

  “I didn’t end up having all those drinks. The bar was more tightly controlled than prior years, due to the economy.”

  “So you forgot to cancel the room?”

  “Must have. Pay the bill and leave the copy on the desk and I’ll take it and call them tomorrow from work and find out. If not, I’ll try to get work to reimburse it, but that could take time through all the reviews and approvals.”

  “I don’t see how they could reimburse it –”

  “What about that winery trip? I mostly paid for that. My work. Now let me watch my show.”

  “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  “I’m guiding that investment. Yours was just forgetting to cancel a room.”

  “Hey, other than picking at the bills, what did you do around here today?” Lydia sat up and pushed her hair back.

  “Why does it matter?”

  “I’m trying to work and earn money and you’re around home all day.”

  “Trying to make money as well as do the laundry and be here when the kids get out of school. Plus take care of the rest of the crap.”

  “Zack, you sound like a frazzled wife. You’re just being sorry for yourself. You’ve got some problems – don’t take them out on me or the kids.”

  “I understand the plight, but unlike many wives I’ve worked your side of the table.” Zack tossed the stack of bills and the checkbook at the desk. “I’d never dish out what you do. Most guys know that cliché and know enough not to do it, but you, I guess your Momma never taught you no better.”

  “My “Momma” did the homework with the kids so my father didn’t have to spend his whole evening getting their homework done.”

  “You don’t think this staying at home job ever sucks? Working when everyone else is having a fun holiday. Out cooking in the kitchen when everyone is lounging around waiting for his or her dinner? It’s not a sit down and put your feet up kind of job.” Zack sighed. “So which of our other standing arguments are you going to trot out next?”

  Lydia flopped back hard into the couch pillow and said, “I’m watching the rest of this show and then going to bed.”

  “I’m going to bed now.” Zack went to their bedroom. He didn’t remember if Lydia slept in the bed or stayed on the couch. She was gone the next morning early before his alarm went off to chase the kids around the house and drive them to school.

  -:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

  Lydia emailed later in the day that her girlfriends called and wanted her out with them. Don’t wait up. Zack’s pace remained the same. Then the next night they went out again. Zack watched a movie on regular network television. The phone rang.

  “Hi, this is Patty. Is Lydia around?”

  “Patty? I thought you were out with the rest of the girls. Lydia is out the second night in a row. I thought you were part of that group?”

  “Normally I am. However … I’ve been busy. I guess they didn’t call to tell me they were going out. That’s not very nice.”

  “No, it’s not. You can try her cell phone if want.”

  “Well, it’s getting late-ish to meet up with them tonight and my oldest has to get a big project to school that he will need some help with.”

  “Hey, we should get all the friends together one of these weekends. I’ve been thinking of a wine tasting party.”

  “That would be fun. Just let us know when you schedule it. Some of the wine from your winery?”

  “Yes. It’s been getting better each year.”

  “Zack … Thanks. I’ll talk with you people. Bye.”

  “See you later, Patty.”

  -:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

  “At least you’re staying home tonight,” Zack said “Maybe some quality parents’ time?” He finished scrubbing off the kitchen counter.

  Lydia rolled her eyes, “Relaxing. I had a long day at work and tomorrow I have to get up and be in meetings with the executives. It’s late.”

  Zack nodded. Why was it always the same response? Work was the excuse for blocking romance. Why was he always the one to initiate that question? If he did not remind her then nothing ever happened. “I guess nothing ever gets done if I don’t ask about it.”

  Lydia dropped her crumpled half empty bag of nacho chips, “What was that?” She drank a slug of her pop.

  “Oh, nothing.” Zack checked his watch, “Kids, it’s bedtime.”

  “But we’re not done with our game!”

  “You’ll have to remember which square you’re on tomorrow. You can leave it set up.”

  “That’s so long!” Grace flopped back in her chair, “We have school and everything.”

  “And you have bed. I think that tomorrow you have more state testing. You need your sleep.”

  Lydia kept her eyes on the popular reality show, “Listen to what your father says.” She munched on another handful of nacho chips. Zack saw the smears of oily orange powder on her t-shirt and hoped the chip company used dyes that did not stain clothes – he would be all the more curious when laundry day came.

  “Yes.” Noah closed his game and walked toward his bedroom. Grace ran passed him, “Race you –”

  “No fair!” Noah hopped forward. The two of them tried squeezing through the narrow hallway that made a tight double bend. Their speed and still immature agility failed them. They thumped into the wall. Zack was there two steps after the smack of palms on the floor. Tears welled in the children’s eyes. Grace’s face turned a deep red and she wailed. Zack hugged them both and ran his fingers over them. He saw a small line along Noah’s forehead where he struck the edge of the door molding and a flattened whitish spot on Grace’s ear that looked painful, covered by Grace’s hand, but no broken skin.

  “Are they alright?”

  Zack rubbed their hurts, “You two will be fine, right?”

  They both nodded.

  “Let’s get you in bed.”

  Grace wiped her eyes, “Daddy, can you leave the light on for me?”

  “Sure Grace. But I’ll close the door so it’s more quiet.”

  The kids hopped into their beds and burrowed under their covers. Zack straightened the comforters, turned Noah’s light off, left the little night-light on in Grace’s room and closed both doors until a sliver of airspace remained.

  Zack asked, “You weren’t getting up to check on them?”

  “Just a little bump on each. They learned and won’t run like that around the hall again.”

  “Who won the last dance round?”

  Lydia tugged on her blanket covering her legs and looked up from her tablet computer, “The two in the white outfits and then the ones in blue danced poorly. They won’t make it.”

  “So you watched the show instead of fixing things with the kids?”

  “Hey, I saw they were ok and you were already there with them. There is no room in that hall for all of us at once.”

  “There is too enough room for all of us there.”

  “We have this crappy little house that we don’t even own.”

  “You agreed we should be renting now.”

  “Only because we didn’t have any options.”

  “What do you mean? No options?”

  “You let our other house get foreclosed on. You did. I’m an executive with a national trucking company and we live in this crappy little house. I’m embarrassed to mention which town I live in when people ask me.”

  “I’ve told you I’m sorry we missed the mortgage payment.” Zack whispered, “Our son was in the hospital and I was there all the time for him. Things slipped. I was also trying to get a client or two for this program management business.”

  “And the next month it slipped again. Even though we had the money to pay it.”

  “I couldn’t find where you filed all the mail. First, I find some on the kitchen table, then on the counter, then on the desk. I try to keep all the bills in one spot so we can find them.”

  “So now it’s my fault. Always excuses. You could have found a job.”


  “Yes. I was strung out between the kids, getting the job going, and fighting with you all the time. Do you remember when I fell asleep that morning with the donut in my hand?”

  “That was funny.”

  “The first donuts we had in the house in two years and I fell asleep at the table. I was just too strung out.”

  “And you missed those payments. I loved that house.”

  “I know you did.” Zack got up from the chair and went to the kitchen. He pulled the wine bottle sitting on the counter with the cork shoved in the top. He wrenched it out and poured a tumbler half full. He sat back in his chair. Room temperature wine yielded more of its intense flavors than chilled in the refrigerator. His third glass since he opened the bottle a week ago. The oxygen had started to fade it, but it was still good. The alcohol tingled on his cheek. “It’s just stuff.”

  “What is just stuff?”

  “That house.”

  “We had to sell all the furniture –”

  “We’d still be storing it otherwise.”

  “Furniture I spent all my time and my mother’s time shopping for. Because it wouldn’t fit in this place.”

  “Do we miss the functionality of that furniture? You had six drawers for your underwear.”

  “A woman needs different pieces. Some dresses for work only fit certain bras. You’re just a man who needs one style of underwear and two different socks for casual and dressing up.”

  “One of those drawers in that dresser was filled with old socks from when you were a kid.” Zack sat in the chair.

  “I love those socks. I use them to sleep in every night. Reminds me of happier times.” She flipped her blanket edge over her toes, “Can you get me more pop?”

  “I just sat down.”

  “Then your chair is not warmed up yet. I have this blanket set perfect.”

  Zack set his glass down on the empty spot on the bookshelf next to the chair and strolled back to the kitchen. He rested the glass of pop next to Lydia. He wondered how much of her harsh personality was due to the caffeine in her favorite drink and how much her personality. “The socks remind you of happier times?” Zack sat in his chair with a sigh.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I recall you called the bank manager working on the foreclosure and pissed him off. He might have helped us out. They had other homeowners farther behind than us. But you so irritated him that he finally said screw you.”

  “He could have fixed it.” Lydia stared at the television. Some useless infomercial droned. “They got what was coming to them. That bank sold the old house for a fifth of what we paid for it and they carried the loan.”

  “We lost our fifth too in the deposit and the payments we had made. That was the beginning of the housing bubble bursting. They unloaded it fast at the low price and probably saved a bigger loss.”

  “Then that branch and all the others in the area closed up. He was out of a job. They rolled over their New York headquarters into another tottering bank. I heard they fired nearly everyone three months after the acquisition.”

  Zack took a sip of his wine. He leaned his head against the chair and looked at the ceiling. A fresh spider web clutched at the corner of the room. Zack wondered how a spider survived this far into the winter to do that. It lived somewhere in the house probably clinging around the warmth of the furnace in the basement. Zack remembered the arguments about renting until the housing market slide stopped. Here a few years later and everyone still tried guessing if the country hit the bottom yet.

  “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”

  “Goodnight.” Zack had his eyes closed. The wine massaged the fatigue from his day. His tongue tasted the Cabernet Franc – their wine had a finish that lasted for minutes if one were allowed the time to contemplate it –

  “Don’t forget the kids need clothes for tomorrow. Do the laundry.”

  “I get it that you are an executive at a big company and order people around all day.” Zack’s head turned so he could look at Lydia standing at the edge of the living room, “But you’re not giving orders around here. There are plenty of clothes to wear for days yet.”

  “If this is your job staying home with the kids then you need to do the laundry. I don’t want the kids looking like ragamuffins at school. If I don’t keep on top of you to do stuff then it never gets done.”

  “You know, somehow I graduated high school with honors, finished college in three years with honors, and got a great job at a major top twenty-five global corporation. And I managed that without you ordering me around all the time. There might be a correlation to the ordering around, the bickering, and how much I can or want to get done.”

  “So you’re blaming me for everything again?”

  “No, I’m just pointing out that if we fought less and worked together we could accomplish a lot more than we do. Everyone pitched in when I was growing up. That’s how I know how to cook more than noodles out of box.” Zack pressed the heel of his hand into his eye socket, “You know I have to beg for time together. All I hear is how you’re working, you’re tired, you have a headache, the kids had been too loud and you want some peace and quiet. Excuse after excuse –”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I give hints all day long that I want that kind of connection with you. It seems as if once you figure out the hints, which is after I escalated them so they become statements and pleads, then you get mean. You pick at lint as if it’s the end of the world just to create a fight to block spending that time together. Men need physical sexual time together to connect. Without it we get depressed and angry and distant.”

  “The exact reason women don't want sex - we want the connections first and then the sex. Men want the desert first. You have to earn desert, it’s not a treat given freely.”

  “Earn it? Don’t you enjoy sex? I’d like to stay in bed and be creative together. You just want to lay docile in missionary position to get it finished as quick as possible. Then ask by whispering in my ear, “are you almost done yet?” is not a sexy thing.

  “You should feel fortunate you get some.”

  “Fortunate? Need to earn it? I’m a husband asking for more involvement in our physical relationship. I’ve planned romantic dates, tried offering the hot tub, I’ve studied books and videos –”

  “– I bet you’ve studied them –”

  “– To give you more pleasure that hopefully encourages you to demand more time with me. I don’t know what more to give you than those multiple body-bucking orgasms. Yet still you don’t want to spend time with me. Obviously, there is something else. See you in the morning.”

  -:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

  Zack said, “Any plans for what you want to do for the weekend?”

  Lydia said, “Not now. The kids might like a museum trip. Or sledding.”

  “I thought we might have gone to dinner tonight.”

  Lydia sighed. “With as much running around I already did, I don’t want to go anywhere. We did fine watching that movie.” Lydia slipped off her jeans, her pajamas laid on the bed next to her. Zack had taken off his shirts and walked in his jeans to the closet to get a sweatshirt to sleep in. As he walked passed Lydia he stroked his warm palm down her bare thigh looking toward her face, waiting for her eyes to come up to his.

  Lydia sighed, “I’m exhausted. I’m just going to sleep.” Zack only saw the part in the top of her head as she pulled on her pajamas and slipped her feet into her ragged socks. “I have to do all this work around here, after working all day. I have to yell at you to do stuff. I have to chase the kids. I’m just too tired.”

  “Again with the too tired routine,” Zack watched Lydia pull up her very not-sexy socks. He hated sorting that damn mismatched rainbow of socks out of every week’s laundry.

  “Look at what we do. Like Grace spilling juice on the carpet yesterday.”

  “And I spent half a day cleaning it out of the rug.”

  “– I can still see the spot.” Lydia said.


  “Only because you know where it was.”

  “When we entertain next – everyone will see it. I don’t understand how you so poorly discipline them – we could avoid those problems in the future if you were more firm with the kids.” Lydia flopped into bed, sprawling across the mattress from corner to corner – blocking off the field from any negotiations.

  “Goodnight.” Zack shed his pants and put on pajamas he pulled off the closet shelf and went to the couch in the living room.

  He tossed and turned on the couch. Something crumpled under the cushion. He flipped the light on and lifted the cushion and the oily orange residue from three nacho cheese chips glowed like nuclear fallout. He scooped and brushed the pieces of chips and what orange dust was still free of the fabric into his hand. Zack dumped the debris into the trash and then flopped back on the couch. He flipped over the child-sized blanket left on the couch that was too short to cover his whole body, and he stretched out. He tried falling asleep.

  Memories of his visit to the winery flashed through his dreams. What is that girl Claire doing? If it’s eleven here it is still eight on the West Coast. Eight o’clock on a Friday night near Los Angeles. She’s probably all fixed up and going to a party with friends. He could only imagine what she might look like. He should stop. Zack rolled over and tucked his feet under the edge of the blanket. He had his kids. He loved his kids. A part of him still loved Lydia. He knew he needed to remain loyal to them, but his heart hurt. His wounded soul wailed loneliness. He was never happy anymore except with his kids.

  -:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

  The phone rang. Like a dream within a dream within a dream, the phone rang. Zack turned and remembered he lay on the couch. Something prickled his senses as if someone watched him. His eyes snapped open.

  Lydia’s face was inches from his, “Why are we getting a phone call at twelve thirty in the morning?”

  Zack sat up and took the phone handset from Lydia, “Could be my client in China, it’s lunch time there.”

  “I need my sleep. I’m exhausted. Take care of it.” She stomped her feet toward the bedroom in an angry blitz.