Blackberry Wine

by Anne Spackman

Blackberry Wine

  By Anne Spackman

  Copyright 2014 by Anne Spackman

  All rights reserved.

  Maybe all you need is a hug from someone who really cares, and encouragement sometimes.

  That was the strangest thought for John Kramer to have at that moment, he, a 42 year-old business executive standing alone in his NYC apartment where the party he had just thrown was now over. He was alone now. Did that matter? With so many friends he didn’t really know—not that they didn’t care about him per se, but they all had their careers and their own lives, and John wasn’t currently dating, so he had no girlfriend to listen to his woes or to his triumphs. No girlfriend to love and support him and share time together.

  The crucial part of his recent epiphany was that he might have to learn to re-think his priorities. Might.

  It had felt empty this time, this party; he had met so many new people and had had so many friends over at his apartment for almost 7 hours, all of them talking and needing and wanting different things—his time, his attention, his approval, etc.

  Wanting was not a good thing to start doing, he reminded himself. Because in the end, he knew he would start thinking of things he wanted to change—in himself, in others, in the world, and this train of thought would start to bother him if he let it. Because with his current occupation what it was, he wasn’t likely to be able to change anything but himself, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to do that yet. He was a creature of habit and liked his own habits. So he chose to stop thinking about this, and started to pick up the near-empty cocktail glasses littering his apartment, and then he took them over to his sink.

  He had come to several conclusions already:

  1: he wasn’t greedy, but he was demanding.

  2. he was selfish, but unselfish people were charming, and he liked them.

  3. he wanted more out of life than it was currently offering.

  More would occur to him later.

  He turned on the dishwashing machine and listened to the sound of it working. Then he started to pour a glass of cold water for himself to stave off a hangover.

  The more thoughts were coming now. Why are people so damned incompatible? Why is it so bloody hard finding someone to share similar interests and care for each other? He knew he was guilty of being insensitive the first 35 years of his life, and of not really valuing his girlfriends as much as perhaps he could have. But he had changed some, and he knew that mistakes are always being made—well, he had to forgive himself and not look back too hard. Maybe he had just not been in the right place at the right time, and neither had the woman of his dreams. Though he and former girlfriends had shared some nice times together. And then he sighed, because he realized that he wanted things to be easy for a change. And they never seemed to be.

  Well, it took so long to figure out what life was about and to get on with it. Fewer mistakes with age and wisdom, and so on. But also, he had realized, a lot went wrong between lovers because of peoples’ conflicting priorities. And no one stayed constant over time—who can predict the future? He liked things to be what they were supposed to be, though.

  She’ll say I’m too controlling, like Jemma once had. Oh, he thought, should have added that to the list--#4?

  Still, he often wondered, why did he need things to happen his way all of the time? He knew he did need to have things as he wanted them, and knew it wouldn’t help to impose his needs on a woman and tell her how to act and what to care about, but why was it so hard finding someone who cared about what he loved? He couldn’t waste time teaching her these things. She had to be compatible with him, already.

  Kramer wasn’t bitter. But something was definitely missing in his life, and he couldn’t think about it, or it would make him upset. So, he shrugged. There’s still time. But the worst part of this was deciding it was all bloody impossible.

  He decided to finish up cleaning up and take a walk.

  * * * * *

  So many people walk or run up by the water by the John Findlay Walk at Carl Shurz Park in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. There were always joggers, families pushing strollers with babies, children playing—and there was no telling where all the people had come from or what they were going off to do. They were all living their usual lives. This Saturday morning was no different than last Saturday, John supposed, but it felt different.

  He was alone, and he sat down on a bench. It was getting hot, even though it was October. The breeze was blowing. He needed to go to the store for some basic groceries later, but right now it was therapeutic watching the world go by. And for a change, he had no work to do that week-end.

  He looked around, and got up after fifteen minutes. Then, he walked to 86th street to the Gristedes supermarket for some basic foods, and carried them home to his apartment. When he got inside, he felt relieved, and turned on the radio to NPR. He listened for about an hour to that, and then decided it was time to go out again for a bite.

  * * * * *

  He was fighting for air after choking on part of his sandwich. A random stranger had come up to help him and had performed the Heimlich maneuver. He had spewed a bit of food, and then he had looked up at a young woman giving him the once over with concern in her eyes.

  He was pleased to breathe again freely. Beginning to re-evaluate everything, again. There was a liquor store across the way.

  “Come with me,” he said, taking the woman’s arm.

  “Lucy,” she said, being dragged.

  “You don’t mind, do you, Lucy.” He told her, not asking. She was flummoxed.

  They went into the store and he spotted the nearest bottle—an inexpensive bottle of fruity blackberry wine. He picked it up and took it to the counter.

  “We’re celebrating, Lucy.”

  “Ok,” she said.

  “You aren’t busy, are you?”

  “I was just going home from work.” She said, “When I saw you choking.”

  “That’s good, then you can come home with me—that is, are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Seeing someone?”

  “Well, no, not right now—

  “Then keep me company today. I won’t bite. I’m John Kramer. Nice to meet you.” He said, shaking her hand, and then he paid for the wine.

  “Nice to meet you, John. I’m Lucy.”

  “Lucy?..”

  “Just Lucy ’til I get to know you better.”

  “Fair enough. Will you come and celebrate with me?”

  “Hmmm. Maybe. I’ll check on you, but are you certain I’m safe with you—a stranger?”

  “Well, you know, you did save my life. I am beholden to you, Lucy.”

  “All right, do you have someone I can call or can I take you to the emergency room?”

  “No need. I’m fine, just shaken, as you can understand.”

  They had reached his apartment by this time, and John got out his keys. “I swear I will be a gentleman,” he said, as he made a bow. She laughed. He looked really funny.

  “Come in, fair lady,” he said. They took the stairs up to his 4th floor apartment, and entered it. The apartment had 2 bedrooms, a dining room, and a kitchen. By Upper East Side standards, it was huge.

  “Wow, nice place,” she oohed. He laughed.

  “I’ve had it for years. Here, I’ll let you open the wine and pour it.”

  “Nice of you,” she said. It was 1:45PM by that time. She opened the blackberry wine and poured it into two glasses.

  “I have come to so many of life’s conclusions, but I wasn’t ready for them to be the final conclusions, as it were. So, right now, I want to offer you my whole-hearted thanks for saving my life this afternoon, young lady
.”

  “You’re welcome, and actually, I’m 33.” She said.

  “You don’t look it. I would have sworn you were in your 20’s.”

  “Thanks,” Lucy said. “I do yoga and eat right, as some might say. Loads of vegetables.”

  “I like Steak Tartare myself,” said John. “But whatever you’re eating, I will be willing to try it. You see I have gotten a sense about you. You were an angel of mercy to me today. I had an awful night last night. You look fresh, and sweet. And intelligent. What was the last book you read?”

  “How can you tell anything by looking at me?”

  “Ahem, last book you read?”

  “Angela’s Ashes.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed that,” he declared. “Heard it was good but never read it. You, I feel certain, are all I presume you to be, and if not, I will figure out who you are over time. I am hoping you’d like to get to know me.”

  “Oh, really? I just ran into you.”

  “Do you find me attractive?”

  “You’re not unattractive. But I wasn’t really thinking of you in terms of a date at the time.”

  “Not unattractive?” he swallowed his pride. “Well, that’s all right. Let’s have a toast. To life, and its unexplainable mysteries, and new possibilities.”

  “To what you said,” she said, raising her glass.

  “I have a lot going on this week,” he said. “But would you like to go out on Friday?”

  “Are you asking me on a date?” she said, sitting down on the couch.

  “I am asking you out on a date, officially.”

  “I suppose I might not be too busy,” she returned.

  “So, where shall I pick you up?”

  “How about I come around here and we can call a taxi?”

  He looked at her and nodded. “I’ll call the taxi.”

  * * * * *

  It took precisely two months for John Kramer to fall in love with Lucy Graham, though at times he wondered if he had loved her from the first moment he saw her. She had her quirks, and her strange ideas, that were just idealistic ideas, but he thought that they were strange. She had a nice laugh. He wasn’t sure how long it would last, but he was happy sharing time with her. She was a bit young for him, but it didn’t seem to matter much.

  “Move in with me,” he said. He knew she lived with another girl roommate in a tiny efficiency apartment nearby. “I have plenty of money. Stay with me.”

  “I don’t know,” she protested. He had a strange sensation that she was feeling scared of being undervalued for her assistant chef job and tiny apartment.

  “Listen, I am not trying to insult you, I just want you here with me always. It makes practical sense, as I don’t intend to lose you. If you really don’t care about me by now, then don’t move in with me, but if you do, don’t hesitate for reasons that aren’t as important as you think they are. I want to assure you I’m not buying you like an ornament. I want you to be happy, and I think I can make sure you are. If things don’t work out, I will even help you to find another apartment.”

  “Aren’t you a confirmed batchelor?”

  “I can learn new ways.” John said. “But I know I’ve had more happy times since I met you than I did before I met you. I want to spoil you, show you places that are lovely in this city and in the world. I want to share things with you. This is something I’ve never wanted, and it makes me happy. I hope you’ll want to make me happy, Lucy. Tell me what you think always, and never hold back.”

  “I do enjoy being with you. It’s just that I have a hard time trusting that love is forever.”

  “I understand. And I appreciate that you just told me that. What do you think about me?”

  “I will try to figure that part out. It’s hard to know what to think about anyone, I find. With other people, I have always just tried to get along and to care for them as they need to be cared for. But you seem to need to be understood more than some. You’re strong and unreasonable, but really intelligent. I guess I can figure out more later.”

  He laughed. “I’ll let you make observations. I sleep on the left hand side.”

  “Ok. I do, too.” She laughed.

  * * * * *

  Learning from each other was the surprising part. They had a few things in common, but more not in common, but it didn’t seem to matter for some reason. She was willing to learn new ways, too, and so was John. She loved poetry, and going to museums, and forced John to invest in a new set of sneakers so that they could go running together. Lucy found it easy it seemed to cast off her former life and find new amusements in her new life. She wasn’t eager to please or easy to please, either, just curious and open-hearted. Willing to try new things, and that made John happy.

  John forged an idea: he was going to re-make her life for the better. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with Lucy, quite the contrary, and John didn’t want to change her fundamental character and nature, but he did want to give Lucy options to do new things. The two of them took French lessons together for 4 months, then went to Paris, where he proposed to her. Then, when Lucy accepted his proposal, they went to San Francisco after a small wedding ceremony, to which most of John’s former friends attended, bedecked in their best and taking plenty of photos.

  That year, they decided to invest in a small cottage in Vermont, where John taught Lucy, who had never done anything but basic ballet, to ski downhill and cross-country. She baked maple nut muffins in the morning, and brought him breakfast in bed with a kiss. What she felt that morning, however, was sorrow, because she loved John but was afraid of the future. She tried to push the thoughts aside, because here they were happy together. She tried not to be afraid that things would change in ways she didn’t like.

  In New York City that fall, Lucy ran the marathon and didn’t finish but gave it a good college try. John cheered from the sidelines. Shortly afterwards, Lucy realized she was pregnant, and strangely, she got upset. She was afraid, and John couldn’t get her to stop crying in the morning. He felt drained, and tired, and started to get angry at himself for being selfish and wishing she’d just be ok again.

  But after a few weeks, she pepped up.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so hard to live with.” She came in to the bedroom and sat down. “I am happy, but just scared. I don’t want to do the wrong thing if I’m going to be a mother.”

  “That I can understand,” John said, and draped an arm around her. “But don’t forget, I’m here.”

  Lucy cried on his shoulder, and he dried her tears.

  * * * * *

  The one thing that had occurred to John was that most modern people were fickle to some degree, including himself. He knew he got so easily put out when things went wrong. But when their son Andrew was born, things went right again. That came as a relief to him. He was enduring enough stress at work. John had to work long hours and didn’t always come home before dinner. Lucy was happy and had been obliged to quit her job three months before, but John was now set on the idea of getting a nanny. And one who spoke French.

  Lucy didn’t want to share the apartment with anyone else, or to share her son’s affections with a nanny, and didn’t mind getting tired taking care of him, so the idea of getting a nanny was cast aside. It wasn’t long before Andrew was able to crawl across the floor. He was a beautiful boy with big baby blue eyes and curly brown hair. John adored him, and Lucy was afraid he’d be spoiled.

  In the end, their lives were changed sooner than they thought. John’s mother died, and at her funeral, John saw his sister Jean, who took an instant dislike to Lucy, mostly because Lucy wasn’t from a wealthy background, and Jean knew it. Also, Jean was not happy at that point in her life, because she had been married for twenty years, and had recently been divorced—and had not wanted to be divorced.

  “You better be certain that your wife didn’t just marry you for your money, and won’t run off with the pos
tman.” She said to John the day after the funeral, as they were going over things at their parent’s house in Connecticut.

  John’s face fell. “That’s horrible, Jean.” He said.

  “Well, you never know.”

  “Just because of your situation, do not speak badly of Lucy. She is the best mother and wife a man could ask for. I don’t understand you, Jean.”

  “You know, I don’t know her well.” Jean said. “I’m sorry, John. I guess I am a bit hard to deal with after what I went through with my divorce. I just don’t seem to be able to trust anyone anymore.”

  “I know. Lucy said she felt that way, once.”

  “You really love Lucy.”

  “More than I ever did. But I think it’s because she’s so good to me.” John Kramer cried that night, for the first time in years, for his dead mother, his bitter sister, and his sweet wife who hadn’t been accepted fully by his family. And when he saw his son smile, he picked him up and felt proud of him because he was a beautiful boy. But for the first time, negative thoughts entered his mind. If his son didn’t learn all that he wanted him to know and value in life, if he couldn’t share all he had come to care about—the thought scared him.

  Lucy slept peacefully. John wondered how she did it.

  * * * * *

  Life is precious, and every moment counts. Sometimes, John Kramer knew he forgot to appreciate that in other people’s lives, though for every moment of his own he was grateful, and wanted to do what he could to make it good. Lucy was teaching him to care more about some of the things she worried about. The environment and natural foods, which she fed baby Andrew, and about protecting and rescuing suffering animals. They adopted a small shelter dog and called him Danny.

  Life takes unexpected twists and turns, John thought. It had been four years since he had met Lucy, and his life had changed in ways he could not have predicted. They took baby Andrew to Paris and around France, and then to rural Illinois where Lucy had been raised to meet her family the next summer. Life was happy in their 2-bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. But John found he wished he had more time to spend with his son and see him growing up. He had a few upset moments when he realized that at 46 nearing 47, he might not see all of the events of Andrew’s life. He tried not to think about that and decided to take care of himself at lunch in the office the way Lucy took care of him at night. He ordered sushi, or something healthier, instead, for lunch.