Young Blackbird

Light glimmered off of the glass. It was empty. Relaxation abounded. The young lady was not on time. Devo Claxton wore a camel hair jacket with a pink collared shirt and cufflinks. A white tie and tan corduroys completed the ensemble. He inhaled B12. He checked his phone. No texts or other notifications. He was like a stranger. He found himself stranded in the restaurant. He looked around at the upscale decor.

She slipped into a red skirt and black blouse. She jangled gold bracelets on her wrists. A gold watch wrapped around her right wrist, and a gold chain and pendant bearing her name, Hara, glittered around her neck.

At the Mercier Hotel in Wilmington, Delaware, Claxton wasn’t anxious. He just kept inhaling B12 like an asthma patient sucking in steroids. He looked around. From the corner of his eye, he saw a young woman in a red skirt flutter around a series of tables before reaching his.

“I am so sorry,” Hara Coyne said.

“Think nothing of it,” Claxton said sincerely. He got up and pulled out her chair.

“But I’m late. This is our first date. I’ve already ruined it.”

They seated. Claxton took his cherrywood-colored hand and placed it on Hara’s pearl hued hand.

“We’re not going to dwell.”

She smiled nervously. Claxton withdrew his grasp.

Hara’s expression changed from frustrated to greatly impressed. A glint appeared in her eye.

A sommelier strolled over to their table.

“Good evening madam, monsieur. I have a list of wines.”

Claxton leapt at the chance before Hara could speak.

“We’ll have two glasses of Merlot.”

“Fine choice.”

The man poured from the bottle into their glasses with expertise and care.

“A waiter will be by to take your orders. Do enjoy your wine.”

Hara picked up her glass but Claxton lifted his higher and spoke.

“To a first date that is already going swimmingly.”

Hara’s cheeks reddened almost as deeply as the wine.

“I’m so sorry,” Hara said after taking a sip.

“What? is the wine too dry? Too oaky?”

“No, no. For being tardy to the party.”

“What did I tell you? We’re not going to stay on that.” Hara smiled more broadly.

A young woman with a cheery countenance came to the table.

“Good evening. I’m Mariel and will be taking your orders. Here are your menus. Can I get you started with any appetizers?”

“Yes!” Both Claxton and Hara exclaimed.

“You go first,” Claxton said.

“I’ll have the roquefort cheese and caramelized onion tart,” Hara said.

“I’ll have the same. Thank you.”

“And thank you. Take as much time as you would like on selecting your entrées,” Mariel said.

“Thanks,” said Claxton. He drew from his B12 vaporizer.

“You know, it’s funny.”

Hara looked up at him. “What’s that?”

“The word merlot can be translated as ‘young blackbird’ from the French. It supposedly came from the color of the grapes.” Claxton sipped from his glass.

Hara wiped away a tear. “I wanted this date to be perfect.”

“It is. You know how I know?”

Hara lowered her head. “No, how?”

Claxton picked up her chin.

“Because you’re here.”

Mariel returned and saw them embraced in a kiss.

“I can come back. Give you some more time.” She turned and headed back towards the kitchen.

The two continued to kiss. Then they both lifted a glass and toasted.

Claxton said, “To the young blackbird.”

Hara finally laughed and clinked her glass with his. They sipped the wine and savored the velvety and plummy notes.