Bitter and Dry

The restaurant I was in was so empty. Only a few tables were occupied. Nothing like it used to be. Nothing like when I used to come here with Mark.

“Would you like to try our newest wine, Miss?”

I turned suddenly, caught off guard by the waiter. “Oh, umm… sure,” I answered.

“Excellent! The first glass is on the house.” He proceeded to pour a dark, red wine. I recognized the label easily. It was a Merlot from Weinhart farms, just outside the city limits. A smirk appeared on my face, and I turned to hide it from the waiter. I wasn’t interested in having a conversation with this boy.

Mark would have laughed knowing a Weinhart was their newest house wine. We visited their winery on our second date, right after meeting here for the first one. As the memory played through my head, the smirk on my face began to fade. I began to notice my throat was getting tighter, and my eyes were watering up. Suddenly, I forced a smile on my face and thought, ‘No, tonight is not about him.’

By the time I reached into my purse to grab a mirror, the waiter had already departed. The reflection in my hand looked tired, and perhaps sad, but her makeup wasn’t bleeding.

A quick look at my watch confirmed my suspicions; Sarah was late. I wasn’t too shocked considering she worked on the other side of town. So, I grabbed my phone to see if she had sent me a text.

Ran into an emergency! Sorry to bail on our dinner, but I’ll pay next time, sis!

A flash of annoyance consumed me as I read that text. This whole dinner was Sarah’s idea in the first place! “A girl’s night out is what you need right now!” I started to regret the fact that we had agreed to meet here at all.

But as soon as that feeling came, it went. My sister had a lot to deal with on her own. Life was much easier when we were kids. Mom and dad always gave us little life tips. One of them was “to always be patient with your sister.” I never imagined I’d rely so much on their advice as an adult.

I grabbed my glass of wine and rotated it around in my fingertips. When you spin wine like that, you notice little drops of alcohol sitting on the edges, falling slower than the rest of the liquid as it clings to the glass. Those are the legs of the wine, and the slower they fall, the higher the alcohol content. Mark taught me that.

This wine had good legs. It was bitter and dry. “Just like you,” Mark used to say to me. But I always knew he was kidding. My personality has always been a bit more reserved, and Mark loved to crack a joke. I used to love how a bitter wine led to laughter.

I reached into my purse for my credit card. If Sarah wasn’t going to make it, there was no point in me staying here. Just as I felt the tip of the cold plastic, I heard a voice.

“Is there someone joining you this evening?”

I looked up and saw a man. His eyes were light blue like the sky, and his dirty blond hair was brushed back neatly. The man wore a black, fitted suit with a tie. He wasn’t particularly tall, but since he was standing by the table I was sitting at, it felt like he was towering over me. This man looked just like him, just like Mark.

“No, I don’t believe so. There’s been a change of plans, and I was just about to leave.” I instinctively made my escape strategy, hoping he would leave me alone.

“Oh, that’s too bad. If you were waiting on someone to join you, they are surely missing out.” He smiled and continued on. “I couldn’t help but notice the most gorgeous woman in the room and wanted to introduce myself. My name is Henry.”

My women’s intuition told me to end the conversation and go home. But there was something about this man that intrigued me. I was not ready to be dating, but one of my mother’s old words of wisdom appeared in my mind, “you never know what you may learn from a meal with a stranger.”

After a moment, I replied, “Surely no one is missing out on dinner with me tonight. My sister was supposed to meet me here, but she had other plans come up. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Henry. My name is Maureen.”

“Well, it truly is great to meet you, Maureen.” As he spoke, he extended his hand to me. I took his hand and gave it a firm shake, just like my father taught me. He continued, “Would you mind sharing a dinner with me instead of your sister?”

I hesitated again, not quite sure I wanted to do this, but it had been months since Mark passed. I needed to do something. A thought came to me, and I answered, “You can join me, under one condition. After tonight, we never speak again.”

The shock on his face was apparent. Slowly, it transformed into a grin. He answered, “As the lady wishes,” and sat down across from me.

“Thank you for not asking why we can’t speak again after tonight. It’s just better that way,” I began our conversation.

“Hey, your business is yours, and I have a policy to never reject a dinner from a beautiful woman.”

The waiter came to take our order, and I our introductory conversation commenced while we waited for the food. We went over the basic get-to-know-you questions. It was nice to talk about something new for a change, and the conversation flowed so easily. I was a little surprised to realize there hadn’t been any awkward moments yet.

Before I realized it, our food was ready. The waiter brought out the pasta we had both decided to try. He refilled our wine. Now on my third glass, I made a mental note that this would be the last one. The waiter asked if we would be considering desserts. Just as I was about to decline, Henry said, “We will both have a slice of that chocolate cake on the counter, please.”

“Of course, sir! I’ll bring it out as soon as you finish your meals,” the waiter answered.

I was stunned he ordered for me. However, I knew I’d never see this man again, so I let it happen. ‘What’s wrong with playing the part of the wife again for one night?’ Yet, as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I could feel my energy drooping again.

He must have noticed because he soon asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing… I…well…” I was having trouble coming up with something to say. The evening was going so well. I didn’t want to bring up Mark, but it felt like the right time to share.

“My husband died about three months ago. On his way home from work, he was in a car accident. His name was Mark. I miss him. Being here tonight is bringing back so many memories, and I just feel a little overwhelmed.” I was surprised at myself for sharing so much. It just kept coming out of my mouth. This man just made me feel like I could tell him anything.

“I see. That must have been such a tragedy for you,” Henry replied, and then hesitated. “My husband died almost two years ago as well. He was sick for many months. Cancer.” His eyes darted away from mine, looking at the floor.

I was speechless. ‘He had a husband? His husband died too? Was he even interested in me at all?’ Eventually I spoke again, “I had no idea… I mean… that you were… umm…”

“Gay.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I understand. I did just ask you to dinner out of nowhere.” He looked at me and smiled, but this time the smile seemed false, like he was actually quite sad. He continued, “I actually saw you tearing up earlier from across the room. I hope I wasn’t intruding, but you really looked like you could use someone to talk to.”

My face must have revealed my reaction. I felt a mix of shock, embarrassment, and comfort all at the same time. “Wow, is it really that obvious? I thought I was hiding it pretty well.”

“It’s easy to spot from someone who’s been there.” The look on his face had shifted back to its peppy state from earlier. I didn’t see one shred of sympathy in his eyes, but rather a look of understanding.

“Well, our food is getting cold!” The words leapt out of my mouth again, looking for an excuse to stop talking about my husband.

We ate in silence for about ten minutes. The first lull in conversation since he introduced himself. I got the feeling that he wasn’t talking out of respect to me.

Finally, I broke the silence. “What was your husband’s name?”

The same confident grin took over his face. “His name was Anthony. We were married for seven years. I still think about him every day.”

I wondered for a moment before speaking. “I think that’s one of my biggest fears. I’m worried that one day I won’t think of him anymore. I loved Mark, and he loved me. But if he isn’t here, will my love for him fade? I couldn’t bear the thought of him fading away from me.”

It was all too much. Those final words broke me down. Tears started rushing out of my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It felt like a boulder was sitting on my chest. How could I be so naïve to think this was a good idea?

Henry simply reached across the table and grabbed my hand. That simple act finally calmed me down enough to blot my eyes with the napkin. I looked around and noticed that there were a couple other tables looking at us funny. My face began to feel warm as blood rushed to my cheeks.

Then Henry said, “When you love someone, that love never fades. There is no amount of time that can fade your emotions. There will be days when remembering Mark is easy. There are going to be days when it is harder than anything you’ve done before. People are always telling us to move past this, but we don’t. We never really can. What we have to do is move on, carrying around the weight of our love forever. It’s a difficult task, but it’s the only option.”

There was something about hearing these words from this man. ‘He knows what I’m going through,’ I thought. All of this time, I’ve been trying to move past Mark. Maybe, I should try moving on with him, with all of my love for him as a part of myself.

“Thank you,” I managed to squeak out. “What do you say we have that cake now?”

He smiled and nodded. We finished our meal, and had some of the cake. As we were finishing up, I said, “I think I’m going to stay here and finish my wine alone. Thank you for your advice. I appreciate it very much.” He kissed my hand, and left, never to be seen again.

Even if it was just a little bit, I felt better. I smiled and decided that I would keep smiling. I smiled with a new vibrancy and love that I had forgotten was just as much mine as it was Mark’s. I looked down at my wine glass. There was just a little bit left now.

‘My love for Mark is just like this wine now. Bitter and dry, but it still makes me smile.’