115. Mark
Chapter One Hundred Fifteen
MARK
C himney Rock Winery. Goal: show my Nicole a wonderful time. Goal: not achieved. Why: starts with a ‘B,’ ends with a ‘rendon.’
N ow that Brendan has walked ahead of us down the path, Nicole leans to me and whispers, “Does he ever crack a smile? Or speak?”
My hand is on the small of her back as our shoes crunch the soft soil deeper into the ground. We’re on the Behind The Scenes tour with four other guests of the winery. All of us have a glass in hand as we tour the estate, and our senior wine educator has been filling us in on the difference between red and white. Turns out white wine is often made from the same grapes as red, but they don’t leave the skin on. Nicole and I found that fascinating. Brendan asked, “What?” and then walked on before he got an answer.
“He smiles,” I tell her, quietly, as I glance over to where he’s checking out a dark green leaf that’s shading a tightly-packed bunch of tiny, purple, cabernet grapes, but be doesn’t really see them. He’s pretending. Everything he’s done for the past two weeks has been on auto pilot, like there’s someone else living inside his body, making it move, walk, blink… barely talk.
Nicole glances to me, the sun highlighting her nose. “Sure, he smiles! When he’s hitting on someone--” She stops herself . I see her face shift in an attempt to switch gears. This is our last day together, so neither of us wants to waste time arguing.
But about him, I wouldn’t argue. Since I have an ulterior motive in letting her believe he’s a huge player, I keep my mouth shut.
And maybe he is one, I don’t know. I thought he’d given all that up, but Brendan’s been collecting numbers like he’s in a contest against his former pre-Annie self. That’s how he’s dealing with his heartbreak. I keep expecting him to bring someone home, or stay out all night, but that hasn’t happened. I’ve been wondering if I should step in, and so far, have chosen to let him ride it out. He’s got to wake up at some point.
Nicole’s been paying close attention, for reasons not unknown to me. Since she arrived a few days ago, she’s been watching him charm anyone under sixty. At first I almost regretted wanting to drag him out of the house to get him walking and talking like himself again. But then I saw her clocking him and realized, Nicole’s a slow mover; she warned me. I don’t want to live three thousand miles away from her anymore, but she will need some persuading. Enter Brendan. She’s watching him, and wondering if she should leave me alone with him, a guy who’s got phone numbers bulging out of his fists. It’s been kind of hilarious, so I haven’t broken the news about Annie to her, that there’s a reason he’s gone off the deep end.
I give us a month before I’m calling the movers to get my stuff across the country. She’s just about to break. Give people the ability to give you what you want. That’s always the way to go.
“I won’t let him near you. You’re safe.” I pull her to me.
“Oh, I’m safe, am I?” she smiles, her gold eyes dancing.
Leaning down, I say, quietly, “As long as I’m around, you’ve never been safer.”
Her eyes soften. She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her body into me. “Why do I like you so much?”
“Because you’re smart,” I smile. She laughs and I catch her in a kiss, drinking her in.
“Alright, you guys. Enough. Fuck. Let’s taste some wine! This one’s empty.” He turns over his glass and a last little drop falls to the earth. Our guide looks at Brendan like he’s a classless bum, and I can’t argue with him.
Brendan passes us for the winery and I mumble to him, “Get ahold of yourself, B.”
He grumbles something incoherent and ignores me.
Nicole shoots me a sideways look and takes my hand as the guide hurries to catch up with us. “It’s time for the Barrel Tasting portion of our tour anyway.”
“Oh this is going to be good. This is why I picked this place,” I tell Nicole as we walk. The other guests are behind us a couple steps and I can hear them mumbling to each other about how they don’t like to be rushed. I turn around and smile. “Having a good time?”
The older woman smiles, caught, and not wanting to be impolite. “Oh, yes!”
“Good. I like your hat,” I tell her. Her hands fly up to her wide-brimmed straw hat and she smiles, pleased.
“Charmer,” Nicole whispers to me.
“No reason Brendan should ruin their day,” I whisper back.
Nicole bites her lip and keeps walking. From the stiffness in her body, I know she’s getting really tired of this. She’s not alone.
For the tasting of the winery’s signature wine, the Elevage–a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot, we learn. Brendan goes through the motions, swirls the glass when we swirl, sips when we sip, but he’s about as much fun to be around as Sylvia Plath.
When he asks, “What’s in this?” for the third time, I set down my glass hard, not able to take it anymore. “Jesus, Brendan. Just call her!”
Brendan registers surprise, and looks around the irritated faces. He scowls and puts his glass down, too. “I’m not going to call her.”
“Babe, can you give me a few minutes? I’m just going to take Brendan outside and smack some sense into him.”
She nods, confused, glancing to him and back to me. “Sure. I’ll be here.”
“Excuse me, everyone. Please don’t wait for us.” I walk past Brendan and he follows me out without a fight.
When the sun hits us, I motion with a jerk of my digits to get away from the front door, get a little privacy. With his arms crossed across his chest, he walks with me and mutters, “What?”
I take my middle finger and flick his forehead. “What the fuck are you doing, B?”
“Ouch! I told you what happened!”
“Yeah, you did, but would you rather be right… or happy?” He glares at me. “Fuck, you are the most stubborn guy I have ever known. Look, she lied to you. But do you remember that girl? She wasn’t just Goth, she was a baby. She was hiding behind all that stuff. Do you remember how shy she was? Did you ever notice her sitting all by herself outside Drama class?”
“I didn’t take Drama,” he mumbles, but I can see he’s listening. “You remember her better than I do.”
“Well, that tells you something right there! Why would she want to bring up the past? What would make a girl like that want to drudge up those days? Look, you and I are used to dealing with women who are a lot more… worldly, for lack of a better term. She wasn’t that. I didn’t recognize her either, but now that I know who she is…looking back? I remember her very well. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a virgin back then.”
He registers this, and looks away, silent as he thinks about the possibility. “Okay, I hear you. But it doesn’t change the fact.” He squints up at the sun, his mouth a thin, grim line. “Besides, what does it matter? Her ex is back in her life, and I fucked up royally.” He looks at me and there is so much pain in his eyes that it takes me aback. “Mark, it’s fucking killing me. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
I nod, my patience back now. “You know what I’d do? I’d give that Italian guy a fight. When do you think this feeling,” I poke him in the chest just over his heart, “is going to come along again? A woman who changes your world, that’s the woman you fight for.” He stares at me, not speaking, so I add, “Either that or you prepare yourself for an empty life. Take your pick.”
Walking back into the winery, I leave him to make a decision. I hope he makes the right one, but the ego is a powerful thing. And we men have it worst of all.