Stay Away From The Merlot

“You know I love you in that dress” my best friend compliments me breathlessly. Mila laid on my bed hunched up on her elbows looking at me sensually. I stare back at her through my full-length mirror and smile.

“I know that’s why I am wearing it” I tease. Not only because she loves it but because this black dress hugs me and ignites my confidence starting from my thighs, gliding its way up to the curve of my hips, surrounds my core, and then trickles up to my A cups. The straps hold me down and despite my petite figure I am assured by those straps it will not slide off. I got you the dress whispers throughout my body. I slide my hands over the dress replying thank you in the same whisper. This dress and I are one, we understand each other. I turn sideways in the mirror bending my left knee while keeping my right legs straight just to put a little more “uumph” in the dress. Mila laughs. I smile. I am excited about this date. I went through the ex-boyfriend cleansing faze for four years. The first year consisted of kiss and no tells, the second year followed with I am worth more and a few booty calls, I believed would potentially lead into something more, the third year involved celibacy challenging myself to get to know who I am and exactly what I wanted. Now, I am well into the fourth year charged up for this date I got by chance.

“So, who is this guy? You haven’t told me much about him besides you meeting him at the party last Saturday”. Mila sits up in the bed looking at me suspiciously.

She worries too much about me. Just like this dress she tries holding me down. I tell Mila the best way I know how to explain my encounter with Ezra. That Saturday, the party was filled with jubilant friends and strangers, I stood amongst them bored realizing the cliché saying “same shit, different day”. I smiled and chuckled when appropriate because I am not a party pooper. Mila told me earlier that day she had to get out and let off some steam. I too hold her down. I did my best to partake in conversations and enjoy the festivities until something shifts in the atmosphere. One glance away from the mouth I tried my best to pay attention to exposed the culprit of disturbance. An unfamiliar set of brown eyes grasped mine for just one second, then looked away as if it had seen enough. Curiosity took a hold of my mind as I too looked away pondering who those eyes belonged to. The company I was in increased its dullness. I thought of ways to escape, to look back into those eyes again and quench the question “who are you?”.

After a short while the disturbance leaves to be outside on the patio with the other half of the party. To avoid being a stalker, to control the swirling of emotions, and avoid being rude to the mouth that persisted emitting high and low pitches I engaged in the conversation regrettably; however, cleverly. All the while waiting for the opportune time to see those brown eyes I knew I was destined to see again. I left Mila with the conversationalist, trusting her alcohol level was still at the level to hold her own for the time being. Mila, being engulfed in her drink and the conversation she contributed heavily in, did not notice when I stepped away. I walked through the crowd feeling the door pull me closer enticing me to open it. When I walked through the threshold there he sat looking at me as if he was waiting for me the whole time. A chair sat empty beside him, I followed my path and sat next to him crossing my legs.

“Did you know there are people out there that still believes the world is flat?” I asked him boldly. His head was bald; however, a dark full beard surrounded his cheeks and lips. He smiled at my question his beard nearly touching his eyes.

“I can believe anything someone says you just have to convince me” He responded in one of the deepest voice I had heard in a long time.

“I’m not trying to convince you. I just thought it was interesting that there are people out there who still believe the world is flat despite the satellite pictures and the explorations in space”. I replied.

“When they say the world is flat I imagine being able to look across the ocean and seeing countries from left to right across the water with little help from a telescope”. He responded.

I liked how he took my mind to a blue ocean leveled out with Europe on one end of my line of view and Africa on the other end. I felt my mind light up. He held out his hand “I’m Ezra” I clasped mine into his. “I’m Olive”. I smiled brightly looking into his eyes seeing my smile reflect at me. I received a text from Mila asking me where I was because she was ready to go. The room just would not keep still and sitting down only made her feel like she was sinking. I looked at the text then at him hoping he would ask for my number. I was bold once I did not want to chance it again.

“I have to go. My friend is ready” I told him. I slowly uncrossed my legs to rise from my seat. From the corner of my eyes, I saw him smile, holding himself from laughing. I knew he was teasing me. I knew he could read my mind.

“Can I have your number?” he asked with a grin. I gave him my number readily, he texted me his name.

Mila watched me intently wondering if I was exaggerating the whole disturbance thing. “Well, I’m glad you found someone. It has been a while”.

“Yes” I respond happily while I grabbed my 3-inch black heels. I played around with my tight black curls in the mirror. I did not bother to tie it up or mold it down into a bun. My curls demanded to be seen tonight so I did not fight it. I wore it. I dabbed a little bit of lavender oil on my wrist and on both sides of my neck.

“Alright Mila, I’m ready” I said.

“Yes, you are”. Mila looked at me proud.

We walked to my car. “Olive”. Mila said my name in a warning voice. We both stopped at the driver side of my car.

“Mila” I say squinting my eyes at her trying to hear her before she spoke.

“Stay away from the Merlot” she responded seriously.

“Why?” I asked while laughing.

“You know how you get” she answered.

I looked at her perturbed as well as defiant. “OK Mila”. I open my car door and hear her tell me to enjoy my night as the door closes. Ezra wanted us to have dinner at Amo I’Italia. I arrived on time at six o’clock and saw him standing at the entrance again waiting for me.

“Good evening Ezra” I said once I walked up to him.

“Good evening Olive. Our table is ready” He replied with a smile brushing his eyes over me.

He opened the door. The dim lit Italian restaurant only held four other couples. He led me to our table. Lacy, our waitress, came over as soon as we sat down. She read off the evening specials. While Lacy expressed her love and recommendations on the menu I peeked a glance at Ezra. He sat handsomely in a dark green collard dress shirt. His beard was freshly trimmed and lined. His head smooth and glistening. The small candle sitting in the middle of the crisp white tablecloth played around with the oils in his beard; strands of hair shined in the light as he looked up at the waitress nodding to her recommendations, showing her he was listening.

“Would you like to start off with something to drink today?” Lacy asked.

Ezra turned to catch me staring at him. Blood immediately rushed to my face. On impulse I touched my right cheek to cool my face down then placed it back into my lap.

“Yes, I’ll have a glass of Merlot”. I said pushing back Mila’s warning.

Lacy turned to Ezra to find him smiling. He cleared his throat.

“I’ll have Merlot as well; however, bring the bottle”.

Mila is going to kill me I thought. As Lacy walked away we both look down at the menu. I was nervous, but I already knew what I wanted.

“Do you see anything you like?” I asked him.

“No, I’m still looking” He responds with his eyes still on the menu.

“I would recommend something with a red sauce. It goes well with Merlot” I suggest.

“Really?” He stares at me intrigued with an eyebrow raised.

Lacy comes back before I responded with two glasses and a bottle of Buccella Merlot. She opened the bottle and pours our wine into the glasses then placed the bottle on the table.

“Are you guys ready to order?” Lacy asks.

“I’ll have the lasagna with meat sauce, please” I said.

“And I’ll go with the traditional spaghetti and meatballs with marinara sauce” Ezra ordered.

“Nice choices. I’ll put the order in, and your dinner should be out shortly”. Lacy grabbed our menu’s and sauntered away.

He is looking at me. I glance back while picking up my glass of Merlot. I twirl the wine around in the glass watching it turn from a deep dark red to a deep velvet red as it dances along the glass. I smell the aroma of fruits and spices that were awaken during the dance. I take a sip of Merlot and close my eyes as it leaks into my mouth. My tongue dances in my mouth excited about the various visitors caressing it. I open my eyes and exhale deeply from my nose.

“That was delicious. I haven’t had Merlot in a while” I smiled looking at the glass then resting it on the table.

“How come?” Ezra wondered.

“After enjoying something for a long time I tend to take a break from it, you can call it a cleansing or a fasting.”

“Is that why you’re single. You enjoyed your ex too much?”

I shifted in my seat uncrossing my legs. I smile a nervous smile.

“I don’t do that with people. I still have my family and a best friend; I enjoy their company very much. I like to think of refraining from drinking as a way of obtaining and maintaining self-control and discipline. To answer your question men are mean”.

Ezra takes his glass of merlot and mimics my movements. Swirls. Smells. Closes his eyes then allows the wine to leak into his mouth and I find myself in that glass leaking too. His tongue dances then he opens his eyes.

“That is lovely, indeed. I typically go for Cabernet Sauvignon” He says smiling at me.

“Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot are closely related. Merlot leans toward more of the fruity side. Don’t think I didn’t notice you moving past my comment on men” I challenge. I sit up a bit taller standing by my words. I already assumed he was going to give me the cliché response not all men are mean.

“Many women your age typically go for the Moscato, I’m actually surprise you chose Merlot”.

“I guess you would know what women prefer when it comes to wine” I poked taking another sip while keeping my eyes on him.

“Oh come on!” He breaths out rubbing his right hand along his beard. I can see his frustration in my insinuation.

Lacy returned with our dinner placing our plates on the table. The steam rose from our plates. We stared into each other’s eyes and as seconds passed it felt like the steam came from us. Lacy could feel the tension. She quietly said enjoy while walking away.

“Yeah, I’ve been on a few dates. Have you not been on dates? As a matter of fact, where you not there at the party?” He asked me.

I looked down at my plate of food wondering what did me being at the party have to do with anything? I said a silent prayer and picked up my fork.

“Yes, I was there. What’s your point?” I cut into the lasagna waiting for a response.

“What drinks were being passed around in those glasses?” he questioned still looking at me. My eyes lit up as I reflected. He responded verbally “Exactly! The world-famous wine at the moment: Moscato.” Every woman had a glass of Moscato in their hand besides you. I could see straight through all those women glasses except yours because you didn’t have one; however, as you drink down the finely pressed grapes, your glass slowly becomes clear.” He leans forward on his last word. I lean back.

“I like how merlot doesn’t influence me with its sweetness. It does not trick my mind or tickle my taste buds with sugar. Merlot doesn’t make me want to devour it in large consumptions. The darkness makes me wonder what’s inside, it makes me take my time to appreciate the flavors, texture, and the sensation as it flows through me”. I look away embarrassed at my confession. Ezra picked his glass up and raised it towards me.

“Not all women are the same”. He waited.

I picked up my glass and raised it towards him.

“Not all men are mean” I said. Our glasses clinked and we sip together.

The rest of the conversation flowed gracefully. It was like wine tasting. The questions we asked created the wine glass; holding all the outcomes. Moments we used to pause and think of our responses was the swirl of wine in the glass as the answer prepared itself for release. The color of the wine became our expressions from our verbal tones and physical gestures. The aroma converted into our ability to sit patiently and listen to the answers, inhaling our words as it drifted across the table. The texture and taste of the wine developed into our willingness to relate and understand each other. Allowing the liquid to travel down our throats signified us accepting each other for what we were made of. My body warmed. Mela’s voice warned “stay away from the Merlot”. I understood, as I glance up at Ezra, that we were amid making our own bottle of Merlot. I felt our fruits compressing together and soaking to create a Merlot only we will be able to taste. Ezra smiled at me genuinely. I returned it whole heartedly. We both knew for this Merlot to be the best we will have to let it age.