Merlot Aroma

The deep plum Merlot swirled around the glass releasing its olfactory aura. It wafted hints of plum and maybe chocolate. Its sensory invasion transported me back so many years to that night – the first date. My mind travelled back and then further back.

We had grown up together. Our families lived a block apart and were friends, mostly for evenings of cards and drinks and laughs. While they played and drank and partied, we would go adventuring in the large yards creating worlds of our own of imaginary foes and heroes. That song echoed in my brain “He wore black, and I wore white; he would always win the fight. Bang bang, he shot me down.” Yes, I would often be the loser and he the winner in our play fights.

Throughout elementary school we were inseparable. Where he was, I could be found and where I was, he was always nearby. High school found us still close, eating together in the cafeteria, joining the same clubs and when there were dances, we would go together. We were wickedly good on the dance floor. We anticipated each other’s every move and would tear up the floor often with encouraging chants from around the room. No one doubted that we were a couple. It was inevitable that he would take me to the Prom. First date, you ask. No – to us it was just what we did. It was another dance. We were too busy planning our lives – the business we intended to build, to really consider dating. In fact, we would sometimes ‘date’ other people and then compare notes. I admit, we were not too kind to our respective dates. None measured up to our exceedingly high, specialized standards. We would viciously tear them apart – their deficiencies were many. Then we would laugh and carry on with the serious planning ahead of us.

College came and we had it worked out. He would do culinary school – he was the creative genius, and I would do the business courses – I was the math whiz. College also found me experiencing my first heartbreak. As always, ‘he’ was there. I cried it out on his shoulder. He held me and comforted me and helped me call the heartbreaker every name in the book. He also made me laugh again and had me back in the saddle, so to speak. We carried on, completed our degrees and diplomas, and started the process to building our business. We were going to conquer the world.

When did I first realize that somewhere along the way, I had begun to see him as more than a friend, more than a business partner? Not sure. Perhaps those long days and nights of refurbishing the old stone building and transforming it into a charming yet elegant restaurant. We worked tirelessly to rebuild it, decorate it, put in a top-grade kitchen. Endless hours of cleaning and building and polishing and then finally it was ready to open. And I was seeing him through different eyes.

He was the chef. His mastery of the kitchen was only a part of his genius. He designed and decorated the three dining rooms, making each a cozy, inviting escape from the drudgery of every day for our soon to be customers. He trained the staff both in the kitchen and on the floor. He demanded the highest delivery of service; yet he also commanded complete respect from each of the people he selected to work with us. His many talents; his command of the personnel; his charm and wit began to weave a spell around me I had been completely immune to until then.

For the first time, sometimes I felt shy around him. However, as the restaurant opened the need to pay attention to every detail to ensure the best for our customers and from ourselves kept me thoroughly engaged – until closing. Then it would creep back up into my conscious awareness. As I cleaned and tidied and cashed out, my mind would slip to moments in the day. Watching him cook or train someone in making the best risotto or listening to him banter with the customers. The moments his hand would brush against mine as we reached for something or the time he would throw his brilliant smile my way as the restaurant filled up…. all of these would parade through my thoughts now that I had time to absorb them.

Our first year was tight but we made all the payments -rent, taxes, payroll with enough left over to re-invest. There was a small apartment above the restaurant which we used as an office or a place to crash. Most of the time, I was still going back to my parents’ place to sleep and eat. Every other spare moment was spent in the restaurant. Occasionally he and I would crash in the apartment, especially around tax time or when we were expanding our business plan. There was little time for socializing but then the restaurant became our social hub. Our regulars became our friends. Some had businesses of their own. The other restaurant owners would often come in and we would reciprocate by patronizing their places of business. This became our social life, even if driven by the business. Just as in high school, everyone assumed we were a couple. It was obvious – to everyone except us. Our outings were not dates, they were our connection to the community that fed our business.

I began to notice how adept he was at training people. We were planning to open a second place. This training was vital to ensure that we maintained the high standard and quality our first place was becoming known for. He was going to select a second in command chef for that place soon as well as the necessary kitchen staff from our current staff. While his expectations were always high, he would manage to push-pull each member on his team to excel. He trained, he challenged, he cajoled, and he got results. As I watched his techniques, I found myself falling head over heels in love. Did he feel the same way I wondered? Could we transition from life-long friends and business partners to lovers and maybe romantic partners?

I began to daydream about us – Helen and Brandon – it sounded so right. Now every movement from him held hidden meanings to me. Surely, he must feel the same way. Or was I being delusional. I would go back and forth and with each change my mood would slide joyously up or dismally down. While I functioned in the restaurant and on the floor, I found carrying a conversation with anyone difficult. My mind kept straying. I was perpetually distracted. Soon, I knew, I had to face the issue head on regardless of the outcome. What if he rejected me? How would we continue as business partners? No, I had to keep this to myself. We had spent too much of our lives building this, I could not afford to risk it all on a romantic flight of fancy. He could read me though. He knew or would know soon enough there was something. No, no I had to tell him. And round and round the thoughts would circle ceaselessly tying my tongue in day-to-day conversations.

It happened one day as we were closing. The kitchen staff had closed out and cleaned the kitchen and left including Brandon. I was working with one remaining wait staff – our top server to finish cleaning the dining rooms, placing chairs on the tables so we could wash the floors and finally cashing out. Adrienne was my right hand. She was dynamite on the floor and could get the evening clean up done in record time. She also served the best after closing drinks to help with the cashing out and final closing. As I finished the tally and placed the day’s revenue and receipts in the bank pouch, she handed me my drink and we sat down – finally. I did not dare sit down before this. I knew I would never get up again. Adrienne smiled at me and said “I noticed Brandon leaving with our top steaks and a bottle of our best Merlot. Looks like someone is getting a special dinner tonight.” Did she see me blushing? I tried to pretend to be completely blasé about it. She wasn’t fooled. She continued “So when IS he going to pop the question? You two are practically tied at the hip.” Pop the question? We hadn’t even been on a proper date – ever! But I didn’t tell her that. I just smiled and said – well you know we’re really just friends. “Yeah right!” We finished our drinks and she left. I decided to go upstairs to the apartment – you know – just to check. As I walked into the hallway, I could smell the aroma of the food. Could it be? I walked into the kitchen and saw in the dining room the table set for two with the bottle of Merlot and two glasses – half full. It dawned on me – there had been a dinner here for two people, but I was not the second. Just then Brandon walked into the kitchen. He saw me there and said “Helen what are you doing here? I thought you were heading to your folds tonight.” The look on my face must have said it all. Brandon was beside me in a heartbeat. His arms wrapped around me and I looked up into his warm brown eyes. “I thought…..” “Oh Helen, I had no idea.” He held me and hugged me. The tears rolled down my face as I gulped out “I love you Brandon. I do and I don’t want to just date others and….” He put his finger on my lips and hugged me again.

Now I looked up as my husband poured some more Merlot into my glass. I lifted the glass and gazed over the rim into his soft blue grey eyes. “Penny for your thoughts” he said. “I was remembering how Brandon met his husband. Was it really so long ago? And here we are godparents to their first child.” “Only fair, they were godparents to our first. You know there was a time I thought you and he…”

My thoughts echoed – so did I, until that night Brandon had his first date with our sous chef. It wasn’t long before they became a couple and moved in together. It would be a couple of years before I met my husband. Actually, Brandon and his partner introduced us or rather re-introduced us. He had been part of our social circle but somehow, we never really connected until Brandon and Dave set us up on a blind date. And the rest, as the story goes, is history.