“You need to get back in the house and watch these kids.”
“What happened?”
“Your daughter spilled her drink all over the kitchen counter.”
Zack closed the shed door and came in the house. He heard Lydia spank Grace who was already crying and red-faced from Lydia screaming at her and told her to go to her room.
“You need to talk to Grace,” she said to Zack, smearing the table with the wad of paper towels. Her eyes angry as she scrubbed at the table as if she could rub a hole through it. As if it needed to have a hole bored through it.
Zack considered suggesting using fewer paper towels but he held his thoughts. He hung up the kids’, his, and Lydia’s coats on the rack and squared up the muddy wet boots on the mat. He saw how the yard mud had started drying into a film all around his best dress-shoes he wore to client meetings. Something to clean later. He went into Grace’s room and helped her quickly get into a better mood stacking tiny books into a little doll house. Zack sat next to Grace, “What happened?” He picked up a few books and reinforced one of the teetering walls.
“I spilled my hot chocolate.”
“Why did you spill it? Were you mad?”
“No. Noah and I were laughing.”
“Laughing about what?”
“I made bubbles with my straw.”
“You didn’t spill bubbles all over did you?”
She shook his head.
“Then what happened?”
“I turned and my arm hit it and it tipped.”
“Did your mother give you a mug or a cup?”
“A cup.”
“Those cups are a bit tippy. It happens. Next time you’ll be more careful?”
Grace nodded.
Zack set a pair of stuffed animals at the entrance of the house, “What do you think about these like at the zoo entrance?” Grace’s smile perked up when she saw her favorite little stuffed animals and remembered the zoo. Zack patted Grace’s back, “You keep playing.”
Zack came from the bedroom. Lydia seemed calmer now too, lying on the couch under a blanket watching a cooking show. As soon as his toes touched the living room carpet Lydia said, “We’re out of pop. Can you go to the store and get me some? Please?”
Zack thought it might be nice to sit down too, but he grabbed his coat and keys while slipping his feet into his tennis shoes.
The local convenience store was often empty. They had their surges that kept them open with double servings of coffee in the morning and six packs of beer in the evening but otherwise it remained mostly empty. Only one other person besides Zack roamed the short aisles. The other person had spiked hair and a black leather jacket with a vintage cut from ten years ago. He wandered aimlessly up and down the aisles searching for something. Zack knew which cooler held the favored and anointed drink. A frequent mission bestowed him. Zack paused in front of the chip rack and wondered if he wanted to take the pouting risk. Failing to bring a bag home would bring up the ire with “why didn’t you think I might like some chips?” A five dollar potato was in that bag. Zack had made chips before and this full sized bag held one potato and about nine hundred calories, more than a carton of ice cream. Zack settled on getting Lydia’s favorite and reached for the big yellow and orange striped bag, knocking knuckles with that only other person in the store.
“Sorry,” he said.
A retching waft of the guy’s cologne struck Zack’s nose, “Go ahead. I’ve been debating too long on which flavor will keep me out of the most trouble.” Zack saw the guy held an economy sized box of condoms and nothing else other than the chips.
“That’s funny,” he said, “Thanks.” He gripped the bag until it nearly burst and walked to the cashier.
Zack didn’t want to risk chatting with him waiting in line. Somehow, another customer appeared and took a long time selecting cigarettes from the back wall. The customer squinted to read the brands, even asking the attendant to pull a box out and bring it over so he could smell it. He fondled the cartons like a sommelier at a fancy restaurant, and then in the end bought a single pack of the economy brand. Zack looked through the other snack options of industrial flavored popcorn and fire-tongue pork rinds. He read the ingredients and sure enough, some scary things in the mix, surprisingly he found less scary labels on the pork rinds. He grabbed the bag of Lydia’s favorites, went to the cashier, and returned home. The person with the condoms was almost out the door when the attendant yelled, “Hey Nick – you forgot your scratcher.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, grabbing the lottery ticket and carrying it in a wave out the store to his car.
Zack paid and pushed through the door, thinking the guy was well on his way to getting lucky. Zack hurried to his car because the wind had picked up and snow swirled in the air. Large flakes that moved horizontally, driving into the corners of his jacket and chilling his hands. The gray sky hovered low overhead as he drove home.
“Yeah, Dad! He brought chips!” Noah grabbed the bag out of Zack’s hand before he had the back door closed and removed his shoes.
Grace stampeded across the kitchen and hugged the big bottle of pop. “Is this kid’s pop?”
“No, Grace.”
“Next time get some kid’s pop, Dad.” She sat down hard on the floor and crossed her arms, turning her back to Zack as he entered the kitchen.
Lydia still lay on the couch under the blanket. Her hand waving in the air like a flag, “Can you bring me a glass? What took so long?”
Zack washed his hands, “It takes time to drive, wait for others to check out – it takes time.” He retrieved two small bowls for the kids and a big one for Lydia plus the glass. He sympathized with the cliché of the homemaker asked to get a beer for the football watching husband.
“Too bad we never got that wood stove. Look at how the snow slides sideways,” Zack said setting the drink on the end table with the bowl of chips. Zack held a loose handful and sat in his big chair.
Another inane show of fancy chef food that viewers never cooked themselves droned on the television. The kids finished their chips and ran into their bedrooms to play.
The image of that economy-sized box of condoms flooded his thoughts, “Lydia, we need to talk.”
Lydia crunched on another mouthful of chips. “What about?” she munched.
“We need to have more sex.”
Lydia’s eyebrows popped up, did Zack suspect? She stuffed another chip on top of the others.
“I counted three nights we spent together this last year. A year ago tonight was the last time. A sad anniversary of sorts.”
“I agree.” Lydia said, “But not tonight. I have a big meeting tomorrow –”
“On a Sunday?” Zack flailed his arms in the air.
“And this caffeine and the chips I needed to take the edge off the migraine I’m getting.”
“I think that’s the caffeine withdraw or caffeine imbalance since you are off schedule from whatever drink routine you have at work. I hooked myself on caffeine too so I could figure out what happens. Maybe solve it for us.”
“What do you mean? You’re studying me like some kind of lab rat. I get migraines. You’ve never had a migraine, what do you know?”
“I’ve had them.”
“Headaches so strong that you nearly want to vomit?”
“Yes.” Zack saw the snow in a blinding fog drive passed the windows as if their house hurtled down a freeway on an unseen engine. Faster and faster. Or Dorothy’s house at the beginning of Oz.
“It always comes back to you.”
“What does?”
“Whatever we are arguing about. I have this huge headache and you just want to argue. Let me sit and watch my show.”
“No. It’s always about you. I hear “get me pop, get me chips, get me, get me.” Often implying with your sweetness request that if I’m nice and do these things you’ll be nice to me later. It doesn’t happen unless I shame you into it, or beg.”
“I think we spent more time
together than that.”
“I kept a record.” Zack dug out his wallet and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it up.
“– You keep that kind of note in your wallet?”
“It’s in code … there are very few entries to worry about anyway.” His eyes looked over the top of the paper at her.
“I can’t believe you keep a record.”
“It’s easy. I kept records when we tried to conceive and we went months on whatever moon-star-zodiac system you read about.”
“I used the doctor’s office suggestions.”
“Then they were whacked. I understand it was hard at first switching from the myths and habits about avoiding pregnancy to the much fewer suggestions on actually getting pregnant. I did my own research of the medical research, newer work at leading hospitals, not a textbook chart put together with nineteen-seventies data.”
“– Not the Internet I hope.”
“I started there but I also went to the University Library. I know how to study and teach myself and do research. I kept a chart on you and took control of it. Only then did we get two great kids.”
“So you manipulated me.”
“No, I used science to ensure we met our goal.”
“You just like to be in control.”
“I’m not the one with the control issue. I just got tired of the fights about not conceiving, about it taking too long.”
“Maybe if you had more control you’d have a real job.”
Zack sat forward in his chair, “A real job? I understood we both made the decision that I’d stay home with the kids because I could get more flexible work than you.”
“And I was making more than you.”
“Yes. That’s also why we made the decision.”
“So, what’s your point?”
“Do you only measure a man by the job title he carries?”
“Lately that’s been important.” Lydia sat up pointing at Zack, “When we met you had a great job potential. What happened? Do you realize that out of the nearly forty people in my department that either directly reports to me or a layer or two below me, all make more than you?”
“They should. They are in the office all day long.” Zack almost added and they work for you.
“The kids are in school most of the day. Why don’t you get a part-time job doing something? Be a waiter at a restaurant serving lunch. Or a bookstore. Something.”
“You complained how long I was gone at the convenience store. You think grocery shopping takes no time. Laundry? Figuring out dinners that you and the kids are not going to complain about? Spending time with the kids when they get home from school? I do have this existing job that I’m on the phone and computer at all times of the day and have to be available for client meetings.”
“I don’t see you spending time with the kids.”
“Did you forget I spent two and half hours with Grace the week before I left for California on that school fund raiser? We put out donation collection bags in the cold and driving rain, too warm for snow but too cold to be out since it was still February, but we were out there. For two and a half hours. I was very proud of Grace because she did her job without all the craziness I saw with the other kids. I spent all that prior weekend on Noah’s science project with him, that he won – he was very proud of himself and rightly so. But I guess I don’t spend any time with our kids –”
“Then why do I have to sit with them to do their homework every night?”
“Because they want to see you,” Zack said. “Otherwise you just sit on the couch and order the rest of us around waving the television remote like a scepter demanding off with their heads.” Zack made an angry flourish with his hand mocking the Red Queen.
“I’ve had enough. I’m going to bed. I have this huge freaking headache and you’re arguing with me.”
“Do you agree we need to work on the bed side of our relationship?”
“ … Yes.”
Chapter 8
April
Zack took a chair off the storage dolly, flipped it open, and lined it up with the others.
“April Fools Romantic Comedy Festival,” Frank said as he aligned a few chairs in the row beside Zack. “I’m too old to care.”
“I think it’s a great idea. Our traffic at the winery leans toward the younger women who come here in groups and these movies are fun and always have protagonists their age.”
“Being out of the market for so long, yeah, hard for me to guess.”
“We’re close to LA and all the movie studios. It’s a perfect fit. And if the women bring any dates they have to huddle under blankets together – very romantic.” Samantha twisted the knob on the patio heater, “Not sure if we should have these on hot, or cool them down to force cuddling?”
Zack saw she had a whimsical grin, “Let’s keep everyone warm. Chattering teeth might chip our wine glasses.”
“That’s funny, Zack.” She turned the temperature up, “This will get a good glow around the patio.”
Frank looked at the darkening sky, “Won’t be long and we can start this movie marathon and sell some wine.”
Zack stood at the patio bar pouring wine as the first of the movies started playing across the large screen that hung from just below the roof eves. A large screen. He poured drink after drink collecting coupon cards from the customers.
“What are the A and B on the cards?” A dark haired gentleman asked, his blond girlfriend hanging off his arm like a dripping charm. She brushed her fingers through her long straight hair after setting her glass on the bar.
“The letters tell which wine you want; A is our current most popular wine, a Cabernet Sauvignon bottled last year, very tasty. It won silver and bronze medals at the judged events. The B choice is a new blend we put together this year. None of the judging circuits have opened yet for us to get it in competition and see how it compares, but it’s popular in taste tests we’ve done at the winery. If you’re more of a white wine drinker we have a little stash of option C for tonight, but red wine and romance seemed better to feature together.” Zack saw the girlfriend bump her date with her hip. Zack held up a bottle of each. “Depending on how friendly you are, several couples chose both A and B for sharing and selecting a favorite. We’re looking for feedback so during breaks fill out a quiz card at that table over there with the vote box.”
The girlfriend said, “Let’s do one of each. We can talk about it. It will be fun.”
Zack poured the wines. As they turned to walk back to their seats he said, “Thanks for helping us with the vote.”
Another person came up, “Second round, the wife sent me up for the B wine in both glasses.”
“Good choice.”
“A long hectic week and several movies ahead that we can sip these. Should be good.”
Zack smiled after him.
“Two glasses of A and a third with the B wine,” said a woman’s voice behind him.
Zack turned with the two bottles, “Claire! Nice to see you.”
Claire smiled, “I brought my friends with me.”
“Leiko and Alfanjo. I remember. How’s the fishing business?”
“Still A-Luring!” Alfanjo joked, “Sorry, I use that line every day.”
Zack laughed. He poured the wines. Alfanjo and Leiko scooped their two A wines and faded away to their chairs. Claire cradled her glass and came tight to the bar. The polished marble edge made her breasts bulge. Zack’s heart clamped hard seeing Claire’s eyelashes. He knew extra mascara covered her eyelashes and that she must have used a tool to curl them at the edges. Yet, her eyes pulled at him with a mix of mystery and happiness that seemed to reach through his whole body and pull him inside out.
“I heard version B is the blend you made.”
“Yes. I hope you like it.” Because I thought of you when I mixed it. He should have convinced the other investors to call his Cabernet Zinfandel blend Claire. That would have been more accurate and probably romantic.
&nbs
p; “I’m sure I will.” She hooked her hair behind both ears with her fingers, “Are you working this bar all night?”
“No. Frank or Samantha will be switching in after the movies get going.” He wiped the bar down. “It’s been a long day setting up but I can feel the energy from the crowd. There is even a new Indie movie in the second half of the show. Made by a few of the farmers we work with and their friends. True independent film makers.”
“That seems like fun. Are you an actor in it?” Her finger tips touched his wrist.
“Oh, no. Not me. They said hardware and software performance plus Internet distribution has improved so much they can nearly compete with the big studios. Now the defining separator is the story and that is a quality where they think their craft and skill can compete fairly. Ah, excuse me a moment,” Zack saw a stream of couples approach, drawing his attention away from Claire. He poured wines for them, advising, “Blankets are on that big table at the back.” When he saw the last of the surge leave toward the blanket table and their chairs, Zack turned back to Claire. Her space at the bar was as empty as her glass.
A napkin, with corners fluttering in the dusky breeze like moth wings trapped under the wine glass, was marked with ink. Zack pulled the glass and napkin across the smooth marble bar. He lifted the stem of the glass away revealing the words, I’m sorry.
Zack looked around the bar to the building and across the gathering crowd. He saw Leiko and Alfanjo huddled under a blanket on the far side of the patio but nowhere did he see the gossamer glow of Claire’s dress. She vanished. Zack was not left a moment to contemplate as more couples arrived and needed wine before the show started. The press of guests escalated at an alarming rate for Zack. His mobile bar was surrounded six or seven people deep. They rushed him with glasses while he saw the bars inside the winery maintained a healthy four or five deep line. He wanted to look for Claire. He started thinking he should roll a barrel from the wine cave up here and tap that because his pours slowed when removing corks. Then the first movie started and the rush returned to a trickle. Zack cleaned up the bar and filled empty cases with empty bottles, washed glasses, and got everything straightened up for whoever might relieve him.
CABERNET ZIN (Cabernet Zin Wine Country) Page 9