Merlot Rouge

Two hours had passed and not a single person entered. The building I rented was right on the corner a few blocks away from the French Quarter. Stragglers passed by, but they didn't seem too interested in any art. "Philistines." I joked to myself. I was also awaiting a girl I'd been seeing for a few months. I'd sent a follow-up text to check if she would still come. No response. I later find her on Locale (a social app dedicated to your location at all times) at an event across town somewhere. Oh, well.

I walked to the end of the exhibit where my favorite piece hanged. A piece I named the show after. Merlot Rouge. A painting that captured my mother just as I had remembered her.

"She's beautiful," a sweet voice said.

I turned and had to lower my gaze. Her skin glowed like smooth dark chocolate. Her hair moisturized and naturally sprung from her roots like strong rich coils, bouncing at every turn. I took a moment too long to reply.

"Have you seen the artist around?"

"I have. I see him every day." Stupid, I thought. She gave me a mercy smile anyway.

"I'm Yuri..." I held my hand out. She just looked at me. I retrieve hand sanitizer from my pocket and gave us both a dab– Handshake.

"Jill." She said with a bright smile. "So, where are all your fans, Yuri?"

I'd forgotten about that. She was the only one that showed. "Looks like I don't have any besides you. Would you like the VIP tour?"

"Sure!"

We walked to the beginning of the exhibit where the first painting depicted the fluorescent scene of Bourbon Street. The next one had a second line band playing in the street within a dancing crowd. She looked to be really interested. We came to the end where Merlot Rouge hanged. She took in the woman holding a glass of deep crimson under a flower arch of white magnolia.

"Tell me more about this."

My heart was gladdened. "She was my mother."

"Was?"

"Her name was Yasmine. She was also a painter. She passed when I was young."

"I'm sorry..."

I smiled. "Well, that's all I have. What do you think?"

"I like it! You're really talented."

"Thank you!"

It got stale.

"Well, I should be going. I had a great time."

I felt compelled to talk to her. "I still have the place for another hour. Can you stay?"

"I don't know..."

"Please..." I smiled.

She averted her eyes. "OK. I have some spare time."

"Great. You hungry?"

We sat in the middle of the exhibit at a makeshift table I put together out of crates and a plywood sheet. I ordered food from a creole kitchen a few blocks away: crawfish gumbo, fried fish, and potato salad steemed before us. She danced a little as she bit a piece of the fish.

"Your art is great. Why do you think no one came?" she asked.

I tried not to take the lack of attendance personally. "Maybe because of the pandemic..."

"I don't think so. Locale is showing several events with people there," she said to her phone. Jill was candid if anything.

"I used my stimulus payment to secure the building and promote myself, hoping to get some exposure..."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. I got to make a new friend."

Cherries might as well have surfaced in her dark chocolate cheeks the way they rosed over.

"We've talked about me. I want to know about you."

"What do you wanna know?"

"Where are you from? Can't be from here."

"Is it that obvious?"

She had a cute accent and left the gumbo bowl bone dry.

"Yes. I can tell by the way you ate the food. You really enjoyed it."

We shared a laugh.

"I'm from Akron, Ohio. I moved here less than a year ago for a job opportunity in education."

"Teaching?"

"That's right."

"Impressive. I was never a scholar so I've always held admiration for people who excelled in academics."

"I can say the same about artists."

I looked into the pool of honey that was her eyes. And just like honey, if you delved in it too long, you'd get stuck. I got stuck.

"Yuri..." A man called.

I looked up. The building owner.

"I'm locking up in fifteen," the owner said tapping his watch.

" Yes, sir."

I rose from the table with a longing in my heart. I didn't want the night to end, but I'd taken up enough of Jill's time. I turned to her.

"Well, thank you for coming, and please, tell some people about me." I maintained a smile.

" I can help in here..." She stood close to me.

"You will?"

"Sure. You paid for the food, the least I could do is help sweep up."

How considerate, I thought. It's not hard to win a man over; basic human decency is a great start. A lot of women in this city would like to take from me and never refill. I shouldn't have been so wooed by this act of kindness, but I was.

She helped me take down my art and return the building to its previous state. After the owner had locked up, we stood outside on the corner. This was my last chance to reserve her attention again. I felt the grip of time squeezing me.

"So, how you getting home?"

"I'll just Uber. You?"

"I'm waiting for a friend."

The vibe went stale. It's now or never.

"Can I see you again? Show you around more?"

She smiled. The agreeable kind. "I'd like that..."

"How about tonight?"

"Tonight?" she asked surprised.

"The days are long and the nights are short. We still have moon left!" Cringe. Before I could stop myself I already said it. Quoting an old poet isn't exactly the hottest thing to do, but she was still there, standing next to me considering to offer more of her time. I could tell she was different. In my glee, I held out my hand. She placed her palm in mine. It felt like she was willing to go wherever I led. She was safe with me.

The breaks on my friend's van dragged to a squealing halt beside us. I opened the side door– Jill ejected her hand from my palm. I looked at her. She backed away, looking for an exit. It dawned on me; this looked bad!

"Wait!" I said to her. I threw my art into the back of the van and told my friend to get lost. He was just as confused as she was. "Just go!" I whispered to him. He shrugged his shoulders and squeaked on down the street.

By the time I got back to Jill, she'd already put several feet of space between us. I approached slowly.

"I'm sorry. I know that looked bad."

She caught her breath. "Who was that?"

"My ride. He came to pick me up. I told him to beat it."

She took a deep breath. I drew closer.

"I'm sorry."

She laughed. I laughed, too.

"It's Okay. Lead the way."

It was the perfect night to take a stroll down Bourbon Street. Despite still being in phase 1 of COVID protocol ( limited bar and restaurant access), Bourbon was still as lively as ever. I was sure the mayor would be addressing that come Monday. A second line band marched down the street with trumpets blasting and bass drums booming. Dozens of people followed suit and danced along to the music. Jill also put some zest in her stroll as we observed from the side.

Then came the heavy scent of boiled seafood seeping through our masks and hugging our senses. Jill turned to me like there was a wheel in her heels. "What's that smell?"

I knew what to do.

I walked her over to the storefront where an old woman awaited with a smartphone and card reader next to a sign saying "NO CASH". Behind her was a man stirring a cauldron-like pot over an open flame, drawing in tourists and locals alike. I ordered 4lbs of crawfish, two for each of us, boiled crabs, shrimp, sausage, and potatoes, packaged neatly in several layers of yesterday's paper.

"Why is it in newspaper?"

"That's just how we serve it."

We sat in the French Quarter outside a closed restaurant under a flower arch of white magnolia. Cafe Du Monde. A place my mother used to take me to on Sunday mornings for breakfast. A place of peace. A place I captured in Merlot Rouge. I showed Jill how to crack crabs and where all the meat was. I showed her the precise technique of twisting the head of the crawfish and peeling the tail.

"Don't forget to suck the head. That's where the juice is!"

She did so. Her eyebrows raised as her tastebuds absorbed the tang of the seasoning. I nodded with a smile.

It was far past midnight as we chatted over the hollow remains of the crustaceans. She was witty, ambitious, beautiful, and I was selfish. Impatient. The chemistry was intoxicating and led me to ask– "Will you come home with me?"

Silence. Stupid.

"I don't know. It's too soon."

"You're right. I'm being too forward. I just wasn't ready for it to end."

Those pools of honey gazed upon me, bigger than ever before.

"I don't want it to end either."

We Ubered to my apartment. During the ride, I got a notification from my friend. I'll talk to him later, I thought. I also got a notification from the girl I was expecting to show. I will not be talking to her later. When we got inside, I played 90s R&B through my Bluetooth speakers. Maxwell, Brian McKnight, Keith Sweat, a playlist of soulful artists to relax the heart and mind.

She walked around and admired my older works. I joined her with a glasses of Merlot.

"A toast," I said.

"To what?"

"To new friends."

She smiled as our glasses connected. Before she sipped, she stirred her drink with her finger. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, my God! what's in this? are trying to drug me?"

"What? No!"

"Yes, you are! My fingernail polish is telling me there are drugs in this! Look!"

She brought the glass closer to my face. I looked inside– She knocked it all back in one gulp. swallowed. "Got ya!" She erupted in laughter.

"Um, That's not funny." I held in my laughter.

"It wasn't funny when that old shady van pulled up beside me, either."

"Oh, I see! A vengeful little woman."

I took her into my arms; she laughed hysterically. I could do nothing but appreciate how close I had her and how happy she looked. Joy looked good on her.

A bottle and a half of Merlot later, we were in my bed, tangled within each other. I could smell the coconut oil used in her roots to moisturize her scalp. Her skin was warm, soothing to the touch. I kissed her forehead. She seemed willing, but this intimacy was enough. I drifted off with her under my wing.

A week had gone by since I saw her. I focused all my energy on trying to recreate the beauty that I had experienced. But alas, I suffered from artist's block. I thought it would be nice to gift her a portrait that embodied both her inner and exterior beauty, but maybe just seeing her again would be gift enough? Besides, I needed inspiration.

I stood across the street from her apartment building and logged into Locale. I was betting on her to be curious enough about my whereabouts to watch my location. Almost fifteen minutes later the gamble paid off; Jill came dashing outside the building. I crossed the street to her, embraced her. A kiss.

"Where have you been?" She asked.

"Trying desperately to recreate your beauty. Will you be my muse?"