CW 22: Beautiful Wine

I wrote this today as part of my commitment to the Clarion West Write-a-thon. A dedication means that person sponsored it by donating to CW, and then provided me a writing prompt that sparked the piece. If you would like something written especially for you, please consider sponsoring me.

Enjoy.

Beautiful Wine

For Jude Berg (again!). Thank you for your friendship and support.

Jimmy and Helen came out of the restaurant into an afternoon of green turning burnt-gold and rust-red, the shadows longer, the world cooling as the sun slipped west. “I did not like the ceviche,” Helen said, “but I liked the chicken, and the wine, oh my god. Beautiful wine.”

“Want to maybe go to a movie? Make a real day out of it?”

“I know you, buster,” she said. “You’ll be snoring before the trailers are done. Let’s go home.”

She did know him. “Sure,” he said.

They turned toward the car. She took a deep breath. “What a pretty day,” she said, and then, in a funny voice, “Jimmy–” and reached for him and stumbled and went down.

And now Jimmy was sitting on the sidewalk holding her in his arms, and she was leaning against his chest, looking up at him with that quizzical frowny-smile that hadn’t changed in forty-seven years, the smile that meant Hang on, is this another goddamn adventure? And he was trying like hell to smile back. I think maybe so, kiddo. Around them, people fluttered and phoned ambulances.

“If you don’t want to go a movie, you can just say so,” he said.

“You know me,” she said, “I like a big moment.” Then her gaze went briefly internal, and he did know her: whatever she saw in there made her feel like something needed doing right now. “You were a big moment. I knew that from the first second I saw you,” she said. “I knew you right away.”

“Helen–”

“It’s not what I expected,” she said, with that quizzical smile again.

“Helen–”

“Forget the ceviche, Jimmy,” she said. “I liked it all.”