Waiting for Two Glasses of Merlot

The belt buckle was having its way with him and the man didn't like it one bit. Cursing, he fumbled with it for the umpteenth time before finally managing to secure it in place. Well, I guess that doesn't look so bad, the man thought to himself as his eyes lingered on the silver accessory. The tailor had assured him it was the newest style and that it would compliment his ensemble very well but it had been a long time since the man had purchased new clothing, let alone one belt worth more than all his others combined. For a moment he gawked at just how much he had spend on said ensemble but then the man remembered why he had spent so much on the first tailored outfit he had purchased in thirty years. He recalled the awkward meet-cute at the grocery store and the way that Vivian's hair had been so perfectly done up in an air tight bun. The man began tying his tie and thought of her regal walk, the way she commanded attention, and of the delicate yet fierce way she had of speaking. Chuckling softly as he quickly got the better of his tie, the man recalled fondly how she had asked him to grab the corn starch for her. “Always on the top shelf”, she had said as though rehearsing a practiced line, “how am I supposed to reach it up there?” He chuckled as he thought of how he had nearly dropped the box upon passing it to her. Vivian's eyes had shone with the most wonderful glow just then, a look that had filled the dullness of life ever since. The spark they showed at that moment re-kindled an energy in him that he was desperate to latch onto. And so, bumbling his way about, he had proceeded in asking her to tea. When she agreed without hesitation he was beside himself with a new found excitement and of course a new set of clothing was in order for such an occasion. At least I still know how to tie a tie, he thought snarkily as he glared down at his belt and then smiled with self satisfaction.

Vivian Grey sat on her bed and watched her clock as the seconds ticked away painstakingly slow. She had always been told that time went by so much faster the older one got but she doubted very much that whoever had first stated that particular axiom hadn't gone on a date at eighty three years old. And, never one to be late, Vivian was precisely in the same position she was before all of her outings: half an hour early. The cafe was only a five minute walk so that still left her with plenty of time to fret over inconsequential things such as the angle of her hat which she just couldn't get right. It also left her with more time to be nervous about her date. “Patrick Macaulay”, he had introduced himself, “always ready to help a beautiful woman.” They had spoken for a short while and his offer had caught her so off guard that she had responded without even really knowing what she was doing. And that had scared her. But that was then. Now, she looked forward to seeing Patrick again and hoped he was as charming as he'd been in their first meeting. She knew that she was old and tired and that not everything worked like it should anymore but well, frankly she didn't care. She also knew what her kids would say if they found out, the advice her hairdresser would give and what her nosy neighbor Miss Maples would cry with her croak of a voice.

“You're far too old to be doing this sort of thing.”

“Are you sure he asked you out on a date? Mom, you know how your memory is...”

“Where are you off to Vivian? Is that a new blouse? When did you go shopping? What's the occasion? You never leave your apartment at this hour...”

Vivian shook these thoughts aside. She wouldn't let these voices matter to her in the moment, however present they may be. As she got up from the bed and grabbed her cane beside the doorway, she knew that she was doing this for her and that was quite alright. The clock still moved at a snail's pace but she decided that twenty minutes early was still better than being late and began the short walk to the cafe.

Patrick smoothed what little hair he had left atop his head, whiter than newly fallen snow, and carefully made his way down his front steps. His old knees cracked as he walked and at the edge of his lawn he looked back at the house he had lived in for forty years. Sighing, he knew that he would have to move soon. Eighty-four years young but you've started to get the better of me, haven't you? He hated to admit it but that was the truth of it. A truth that his son and daughter also knew and had decided not to give him a moment's peace about. Old folk's home. Assisted living. Retirement facility. They could dress it up however they wanted but the thought of going to live in some senile prison with a death sentence didn't appeal to him one bit. He knew that he was making things extra difficult for them but more importantly, he knew that he wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. Despite his kids' sensible arguments, his failing eyesight or the fact that he barely went down to the basement anymore because it was too hard on his legs, he just wasn't ready. Taking one last look at the house, he began the short walk to the cafe and coerced his thoughts in a different direction: to simpler, happier times where thoughts of mortality and losing one's freedom held no standing, to Vivian and her still young eyes and the event he had looked forward to more than anything else in recent memory. To the – Patrick's thoughts abruptly stopped when he rounded a corner and caught sight of her, looking absolutely stately as she sat outside the cafe. He approached nervously, unsure of what to say to such a captivating woman and held his breath as she glanced his way and waved. He waved back and moved in to sit beside her. This was happening, and if his knees had allowed it, he would've gleefully jumped up and down like a young boy on his birthday.

Seeing Patrick walk towards her, Vivian tried to calm her furiously beating heart. But it was no use. This much excitement didn't happen too often, if ever, anymore and she was basking in the moment. It was a warm day outside, her nails were perfect, and her date with a true gentleman was about to begin. What could be better? A glass of Merlot, perhaps? Vivian smiled as she waved to Patrick. But no, this was a cafe, and they were here for tea and conversation. Not wine and shenanigans. She smiled again. What had gotten into her? A heavy dose of effervescence, that's what. And she loved every moment of it. Patrick inched closer and she briefly turned around to hail the waiter. What kind of tea would she have? Mint? Earl Grey? Perhaps something more perky to fit her mood? Normally she would have a scone or pastry too but with her stomach in knots as it was, she knew that wouldn't go over so well. And she honestly didn't care. Anticipating something so much that she couldn't even eat hadn't happened in over twenty years when her husband had still been alive. They had welcomed their first grandchild into the world then, a moment she would never forget. And now, sitting outside of a quiet cafe on a bright and beautiful day watching Patrick approach with his only slightly stooped shoulders and heroic jawline, she knew that she would never forget this day either.

“Hello Vivian.”

“Good afternoon Patrick.”

“You look radiant today.” Vivian could feel herself blush.

“Well, you clean up rather nicely don't you? You really do that suit a favor.” Patrick grinned as he sat down.

“I'm glad you noticed. I had the fight of my life with this newfangled belt buckle.” Vivian laughed.

“Funny as well as handsome. A dangerous combination, young man.” She winked at him.

“A young man? Where? I vow not to let him interrupt this most auspicious occasion. You have my word.” Vivian laughed again and Patrick looked behind him continuing the ruse. Her laughter was infectious, and he hoped to hear a lot more of it before the date was over.

“Ah, here's the waiter.” Patrick looked back at Vivian, up at a well-dressed man holding a notepad and pencil, and then back at his date. Then he leaned forward.

“Wait, is this the young man you were referring to? He is young, isn't he?” To his credit the waiter, who had heard most of the exchange, kept a straight face as laughter from both his customers erupted across the table. After some time, it abated enough for him to get a word in.

“Welcome to Anna's. How are you both doing today? I can see that the fun has already started. Can I interest you in something to drink to start? A coffee, tea or something cool on this sunny day? Or perhaps something off of our wine list?

“After you.” Patrick stated, still chuckling softly. Vivian nodded and her eyes naturally went to the tea menu first. Peppermint, Orange Pekoe, Lemon Ginger, Raspberry Vanilla...and then the waiter's last words sunk in. The date had started off remarkably well. Perhaps some shenanigans were in order after all? She looked at Patrick and then at the waiter asking to see the wine list. He placed it on the table in front of them and Patrick pulled out a small pair of reading glasses.

“If I may?” He looked at Vivian expectantly.

“By all means.” He nodded and began to read the wine selections out loud.

“Chardonnay, Riesling, Zinfandel, Pinot Grigio...” And then he stopped to clear his throat. “And my personal favorite: Merlot.” Vivian smiled in disbelief.

“Yes please.”

“Ah, finally someone else with good taste in wine!” The waiter snatched up the menu and promised to return shortly with their order. And then Patick and Vivian locked eyes and knew in that moment that whatever their futures held they would always have this time together. Waiting with each other; not for change or regret or the beginning of the end but simply for two glasses of Merlot.