The Truth is in the Wine

by Curtis Bunn

In the interim, Paul sipped his wine and then made the mistake of looking straight down at the water. The combination of the waves, the height at which he stood and his fear of heights, set off a minor scare. It was like the blood in his body was draining.

  But he was determined to not let it mess up his experience. So he closed his eyes for a few seconds and told himself, “Hold it together.” When he opened them, he was a different person. He felt relaxed, like wine can induce, but also alert and excited.

  He posed showing the “peace” sign and smiled the biggest smile he had in some time. He felt on top of the world, literally and emotionally.

  Paul again looked down over the railing at the waves, to test himself. Bad move. He got dizzy and disoriented. Ginger could see it coming on and immediately came to his aid.

  “Here,” she said, putting his cup of wine to his mouth. “Concentrate on this.”

  It worked. Paul pulled himself together rather quickly and they continued their walk—hand-in-hand.

  Ginger looked down when Paul clutched her hand to make sure what she felt was real.

  “You have not held my hand in at least ten years, Paul,” she said. “These changes in the last month or so have been dramatic. Maybe I should get you drunk so you’ll finally tell me what’s really going on because it has to be something.”

  Paul smiled. He looked up at the expansion of the bridge and the view beyond it to take in the beauty of it all. And it almost came out right then. He wanted badly to tell Ginger that they were millionaires and their lives, as they knew it, had changed.

  Telling her right there, on the Golden Gate Bridge, would be symbolic of how he felt about their future—they were above the world. But his mom was not around, and in his mind, he wanted to tell all three of the women at the same time at the top of the mountain at the Sterling Vineyard. That was the new plan he came up with. So, he held back, hard as it was.

  About a half-mile in front of them were Brenda and Madeline, who were becoming faster friends. They walked at a much less brisk pace than their children. And they talked the entire time, learning that they had been compatible all along.

  “Finally,” Madeline said, looking down at her cell phone.

  “What?” Brenda wanted to know.

  “Mitch finally texted me back,” she said.

  “OK, what did he say?”

  “He said he has a friend for you and that they will be here either tonight or tomorrow night. We can decide.”

  “I’d like them to come now, but it’s probably better that they come tomorrow,” Brenda said. “This is our first night. We probably shouldn’t separate from the kids tonight.”

  “That’s true, but if I know my daughter, she will try to escort us tomorrow,” Madeline said. “It amazes me that she tries to be the mother sometimes. I agree tomorrow is the better day to do it, but…”

  “But Paul will be all in it, too,” Brenda said. “I guess it’s better than them just saying, ‘Do whatever.’ We should talk to them about it tonight so they’ll be clear about it tomorrow.”

  “Should I ask about his friend?” Madeline said. “We should know something about him before he gets here.”

  “Yes, you should call him,” Brenda said.

  And Madeline did. “I’m glad you called because it took me ten minutes to type that text message,” Mitch said. “Texting for me is only in case of emergency, if I’m tied up in a truck and being kidnapped or something.”

  Madeline laughed. “You’re funny.”

  They chatted and laughed and Brenda got a little jealous. She could see how much Madeline enjoyed Mitch and looked forward to seeing him, and Brenda did not have that in her life. She was not “hating” on her new friend, but she was envious.

  “So what’s up with his friend?” she asked.

  Madeline said, “His name is Lionel and he’s retired military, too. He says Lionel is a fun man, a good man.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean his interesting,” Brenda said. “But, at this point, how can I complain? Let’s see what happens.”

  Madeline set it up for the men to drive to Napa from Sacramento and meet them for dinner the next night. “My son-in-law did a lot of research,” she told Mitch.” So I’m sure he will have some place to recommend for us.”

  “You know what?” Brenda asked. “This walk has been great for my energy and my stomach. I feel a lot better.”

  “Me, too,” Madeline said. “Almost like new. By the time we get back to Napa Valley, I’ll be ready to really eat.”

  Brenda’s phone rang before she could respond. It was Paul.

  “We’re almost on the other side,” Brenda said. “How’s the park?”

  “I don’t know because we left the park,” Paul said.

  “What? Well, where are you?” she asked.

  “Right behind you,” he answered.

  Brenda turned around to see her son and daughter-in-law about twenty yards behind them.

  “Look,” she said to Madeline.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Madeline said. “I thought you were going to stay at the park and pick us up on this side of the bridge.”

  “We couldn’t let you all outdo us,” Paul said.

  Madeline looked down at their clutched hands and smiled. She had viewed Paul as a slouch—or at least someone who was a good man but not a great achiever, which is what she wanted for her daughter. So, while she never protested Ginger’s choice for a husband, she never gave him a ringing endorsement or fully embraced him.

  Watching Paul with Ginger on the trip gave her an appreciation for her son-in-law that she did not have. She listened to him speak, really listened, and determined that he was much smarter than she realized and much more cultured and definitely far more humorous. She, indeed, took him to be a humorless person, someone who could not enjoy a good joke and could not tell one.

  His self-deprecating story on their way to the Golden Gate Bridge shed a new light on Paul, the man. Seeing him hold her daughter’s hand gave Madeline a much more favorable feeling about him.

  At the same time, Brenda assessed Ginger—and told her so.

  “Can I steal your wife from you for a few minutes?” Brenda said, grabbing Ginger’s free hand.

  Paul didn’t answer. He released her hand and they walked in front of Paul and Madeline.

  “I want to tell you,” Brenda began, “that already I have seen more of who you are since yesterday than I have in almost twenty years. And you know why that is? Because I probably wasn’t looking before now. Why that was the case, I cannot really explain except to say that as a parent, you can sometimes see your child as so special that no one is really good enough for him.

  “I have seen the kind of mother you are and I have seen how nice a house you keep and how hard you work. But I couldn’t pull myself to believe you were right for Paul. And I’m sorry for that.”

  “But what has happened for you to feel differently, Ms. Wall?”

  “My son is perfect to me but he’s not perfect,” Brenda said. “He has his little—what do they call them?—idiosyncrasies. And I see where you manage them very well. You got him to get on an airplane. Let’s start with that. And even though you didn’t sit with him—and even though I was drinking with your mother—I saw how you checked on him and reassured him, helped him get through it. I saw that you really cared—even though things haven’t been that great with the marriage. I know what’s going on—some of what’s been going on. I commend you for that.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve always cared about Paul and always tried to be a good wife,” Ginger said. “We’ve had our problems, but no more than anyone else. I would like to ask you something, though.”

  “Go ahead,” Brenda said.

  “In the last month or so, Paul has been different,” Ginger said. “He’s been happy and positive and it has thrown me off.”

  “I noticed the same thing,” Brenda said. “I actually was gonna ask you if you knew what was going on with him.”

  “Wha
t are y’all talking about?” Paul said from behind them.

  “You,” they said in unison, and laughed.

  “Forget it,” Paul said. “I don’t even wanna know.”

  “Well, I know this,” Madeline said. “I’m not walking back across that bridge.”

  “I’ll go back and get the car,” Paul said. “I’ll call you when I cross the bridge and turn around.”

  “Paul,” Ginger said, “you sure you don’t want me to go with you? I don’t feel so good, but I’ll go with you if you want me to.”

  He smiled. “You do care about me,” he said. “If you’re tired, you should stay with them. I’ll be fine. I can walk a little faster so I can get back here as quickly as possible.”

  Paul went on his way, and the ladies crossed the bridge and found a place where they could rest and talk.

  “Might as well tell you this now, Ginger,” Madeline said. “We have a dinner date tomorrow night.”

  “Excuse me?” Ginger said. “A dinner date? With who?”

  Madeline explained and Ginger was not happy.

  “I don’t think that’s the point of us coming out here,” she said. “You don’t really know these men. And you think I’m going to let you run off with them? I don’t think so.”

  “I wasn’t asking your permission, child,” Madeline said. “I am your mother, not the other way around. I was giving you the courtesy of letting you know what we were going to do. I know this man and it’s not like we’re in jeopardy—or that we won’t be in a public place.”

  Ginger turned to Brenda. “Have you told Paul this?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” she answered. “And I’m sure he will have the same feelings as you, that we shouldn’t go. But we’re not some young kids who don’t know what we’re doing. We invented dating.”

  She and Madeline laughed. Ginger did not. And the look on her face told of her over-the-top concern. She had read about the Craigslist killer and the guy who met a woman on Christian Singles.com and killed her. Ginger could not see any good in them going out with men they hardly knew.

  “Why is it that you young folks think we don’t know what we’re doing?” Brenda asked.

  “Exactly,” Madeline chimed in. “We raised you. I taught you how to deal with young boys and then men. So you know I know what I’m talking about because you’ve told me as much. So, it really comes down to this: You think I have lost it as I have gotten older? You think all the stuff I shared with you has somehow departed my mind and I’m some lost little girl going out into the dating world?”

  “I’m not saying that, Mother,” Ginger said. “I’m saying that things are different now. People are more crazy than ever and you have to be careful about who you sit across from at dinner.”

  The back-and-forth went on for several minutes, with neither side budging. Finally, Paul called to say he had crossed the bridge in the rental car and had turned around and was headed their way. He met them near the tollbooth and they jumped in the car and headed back toward Napa.

  “By the time we get back, it’ll be time for lunch,” Paul said. “You all feeling better? Think you’ll be ready to eat? I found this cool place online where we could stop and eat outside if it’s warm enough when we get there.”

  No one said anything. “Hello?” Paul said. “OK, what happened?”

  “These senior citizens are talking about they’re going on a blind date tomorrow night,” Ginger blurted out.

  “Oh, now we’re senior citizens?” Brenda said.

  “You’re not too old for me to whip your butt,” Madeline said.

  “Wait a minute,” Paul said. “What do you mean?”

  “What she means is that my friend, Mitch, is visiting his cousin in Sacramento and he and his friend, Lionel, are going to come up and take me and Brenda to dinner tomorrow night,” Madeline said.

  “You have a problem with that?” Brenda asked, almost daring her son to challenge her.

  “Ah, yes, I do, as a matter of fact,” Paul said. “Who are these people? And I thought this was a family trip.”

  “It is a family trip, and us having dinner with someone else will not take away from it, Paul,” Brenda said. “And you and your wife can have a nice dinner together without us around. It works out for everyone.”

  “Why can’t we all have dinner together?” Paul asked. “The six of us.”

  “Because we don’t need you and Ginger trying to chaperone us,” Brenda said. “What are we? Teenagers?”

  “I can’t believe we’re still talking about this,” Madeline said. “We appreciate your concern. But we’re not going skydiving or mountain climbing. We’re having dinner. So relax.”

  “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Brenda said.

  Paul drove on and glanced over at Ginger, who shook her head.

  “Wait, what, exactly, is the problem?” Madeline said. “Could you please tell me? If it’s something more than you thinking we shouldn’t go with them because they are men and we don’t know them that well, you can keep quiet. But if there is more to it, then please share with me.”

  Again, Paul’s and Ginger’s eyes met.

  “Well,” Ginger began, “it’s basically like this: I’ve never seen you with another man or even heard of you with another man or even conceived of you with another man. It was always you and Daddy; that’s all I know.

  “So to tell me you’re planning to go out with someone, well, that doesn’t sit well with me. And I realize it might sound crazy; I do. I’m a fully grown woman but you’re still my mother.”

  “I appreciate that, baby,” Madeline said. “But your dad—God rest his soul; he was a good man who was good to me—but he’s gone. It took me a while to accept it, to deal with it. I’m still dealing with it. But it has been almost a year and I have got to live my life, whatever time I have left. And it’s not like I’m trying to marry this man. I met him at church and I have seen him a few times.

  “He lives in San Diego, but he happens to be visiting his family near here. Why wouldn’t we see each other? What’s the harm? And above all, why wouldn’t you trust me enough to enjoy the company of a man without dishonoring your father? And I knew him better than anyone in the world. Your dad would not want me mourning him for the rest of my life.”

  Ginger appreciated her mom’s points.

  “If he’s her friend,” Paul asked his mother, “how did you get involved in this, Ma?”

  “Because I asked Maddy to ask if he had a friend,” she answered. “Why not? I’m single. I like adult male attention, too. And don’t bring up your father. I’m sure he’s living his life, which is what he should do. I have to live mine.”

  Neither Paul nor Ginger had any retort of consequence, so they rode on in silence, admiring the wonderful landscape.

  When they got into Napa, they took Route 29 all the way in to St. Helena, a quaint little mountainside town in the heart of the Valley. And they really liked it because of its name, Helena, same as their daughter. They admired the wineries they passed along the way: Beringer, Sutter Homes, Peju, Milat, and the endless row of restaurants and shops that begged for a visit.

  “You feel like eating?” Brenda said to Madeline.

  “I finally feel like myself, for the most part,” she answered. “Well, at least I can eat. My body isn’t quite right, but that walk did me good. Shoot, I’ll be ready for some wine with lunch.”

  “I have a cool place for us to eat,” Paul said. “It’s up ahead, I think. Looked it up on the Internet. It’s called Gott’s Roadside.”

  “There it is,” Brenda said, pointing to the left. And so it was. It had an American flag hanging in front, high above the street, and a huge patio filled with umbrellas, people everywhere and smoke rising from its chimney.

  “It must be good because it’s packed,” Madeline said.

  “Very cute,” Brenda added.

  Paul parked the car and they made their way in and ordered. They were lucky; they were able to secure a table
under an umbrella up against the white picket fence that surrounded the patio.

  Madeline had the Chinese Chicken Salad, Brenda the Shrimp Tacos, Ginger a bowl of chili and a Classic Tuna Melt and Paul the Classic Tossed Cobb Salad and garlic fries. He also ordered a bottle of LaFollette 10 Pinot Noir for thirty-three-dollars.

  “Can’t have good food without good wine,” Paul said. And no one argued with him.

  Madeline said grace and they ate. “Hey,” Paul said, looking at his and Ginger’s moms, “you all think you’re slick. You were supposed to tell us an embarrassing story that you haven’t told anyone.”

  “That’s right,” Ginger said. “Who’s going first?”

  “I’m not sure I can tell mine now; we’re eating,” Madeline said.

  “That’s a cop out,” Brenda said.

  “OK, fine,” Madeline said. “You have to get closer because I don’t want to say this too loudly.”

  Everyone leaned in. “It’s not a long story,” she began. “I was about twenty-two and dating this guy that I really liked. He was strong and smart and funny and he liked me for me.”

  “Sounds like Daddy,” Ginger said.

  “Ha, ha. It was your Daddy,” Madeline said. “So, we’re dating like three months and we’d never been intimate. We spent a lot of time together because we enjoyed each other so much. I was holding out—not because I wasn’t attracted to him or even really liked him. I was in love with him and I had to make sure he respected me.

  “You know how men can put you in a category if you’re too forward. They start thinking you’re that way all the time and never once consider that you could only be that way with them because of something they did with you that freed you up.”

  “Right,” Brenda jumped in. “Don’t get me started with the double standard of how women are viewed by men.”

  “That’s a whole different talk show,” Madeline said. “But anyway, I had to make sure that he knew I wasn’t easy. So, I was having a hard time sleeping and took some sleeping pills one night right before he came over to my place. My mother was sick, I was thinking about graduate school; there was a lot on my mind and when it was time for bed, I would lie there on my back, looking at the ceiling.