The Truth is in the Wine (16 page)

“Thanks, but I've always cared about Paul and always tried to be a good wife,” Ginger said. “We've had our problems, but no more than anyone else. I would like to ask you something, though.”

“Go ahead,” Brenda said.

“In the last month or so, Paul has been different,” Ginger said. “He's been happy and positive and it has thrown me off.”

“I noticed the same thing,” Brenda said. “I actually was gonna ask you if you knew what was going on with him.”

“What are y'all talking about?” Paul said from behind them.

“You,” they said in unison, and laughed.

“Forget it,” Paul said. “I don't even wanna know.”

“Well, I know this,” Madeline said. “I'm not walking back across that bridge.”

“I'll go back and get the car,” Paul said. “I'll call you when I cross the bridge and turn around.”

“Paul,” Ginger said, “you sure you don't want me to go with you? I don't feel so good, but I'll go with you if you want me to.”

He smiled. “You do care about me,” he said. “If you're tired, you should stay with them. I'll be fine. I can walk a little faster so I can get back here as quickly as possible.”

Paul went on his way, and the ladies crossed the bridge and found a place where they could rest and talk.

“Might as well tell you this now, Ginger,” Madeline said. “We have a dinner date tomorrow night.”

“Excuse me?” Ginger said. “A dinner date? With who?”

Madeline explained and Ginger was not happy.

“I don't think that's the point of us coming out here,” she said. “You don't really know these men. And you think I'm going to let you run off with them? I don't think so.”

“I wasn't asking your permission, child,” Madeline said. “I am your mother, not the other way around. I was giving you the courtesy of letting you know what we were going to do. I know this man and it's not like we're in jeopardy—or that we won't be in a public place.”

Ginger turned to Brenda. “Have you told Paul this?” she asked.

“Not yet,” she answered. “And I'm sure he will have the same feelings as you, that we shouldn't go. But we're not some young kids who don't know what we're doing. We invented dating.”

She and Madeline laughed. Ginger did not. And the look on her face told of her over-the-top concern. She had read about the Craigslist killer and the guy who met a woman on Christian
Singles.com
and killed her. Ginger could not see any good in them going out with men they hardly knew.

“Why is it that you young folks think we don't know what we're doing?” Brenda asked.

“Exactly,” Madeline chimed in. “We raised you. I taught you how to deal with young boys and then men. So you know I know what I'm talking about because you've told me as much. So, it really comes down to this: You think I have lost it as I have gotten older? You think all the stuff I shared with you has somehow departed my mind and I'm some lost little girl going out into the dating world?”

“I'm not saying that, Mother,” Ginger said. “I'm saying that things are different now. People are more crazy than ever and you have to be careful about who you sit across from at dinner.”

The back-and-forth went on for several minutes, with neither
side budging. Finally, Paul called to say he had crossed the bridge in the rental car and had turned around and was headed their way. He met them near the tollbooth and they jumped in the car and headed back toward Napa.

“By the time we get back, it'll be time for lunch,” Paul said. “You all feeling better? Think you'll be ready to eat? I found this cool place online where we could stop and eat outside if it's warm enough when we get there.”

No one said anything. “Hello?” Paul said. “OK, what happened?”

“These senior citizens are talking about they're going on a blind date tomorrow night,” Ginger blurted out.

“Oh, now we're senior citizens?” Brenda said.

“You're not too old for me to whip your butt,” Madeline said.

“Wait a minute,” Paul said. “What do you mean?”

“What she means is that my friend, Mitch, is visiting his cousin in Sacramento and he and his friend, Lionel, are going to come up and take me and Brenda to dinner tomorrow night,” Madeline said.

“You have a problem with that?” Brenda asked, almost daring her son to challenge her.

“Ah, yes, I do, as a matter of fact,” Paul said. “Who are these people? And I thought this was a family trip.”

“It is a family trip, and us having dinner with someone else will not take away from it, Paul,” Brenda said. “And you and your wife can have a nice dinner together without us around. It works out for everyone.”

“Why can't we all have dinner together?” Paul asked. “The six of us.”

“Because we don't need you and Ginger trying to chaperone us,” Brenda said. “What are we? Teenagers?”

“I can't believe we're still talking about this,” Madeline said.
“We appreciate your concern. But we're not going skydiving or mountain climbing. We're having dinner. So relax.”

“And I don't want to talk about it anymore,” Brenda said.

Paul drove on and glanced over at Ginger, who shook her head.

“Wait, what, exactly, is the problem?” Madeline said. “Could you please tell me? If it's something more than you thinking we shouldn't go with them because they are men and we don't know them that well, you can keep quiet. But if there is more to it, then please share with me.”

Again, Paul's and Ginger's eyes met.

“Well,” Ginger began, “it's basically like this: I've never seen you with another man or even heard of you with another man or even conceived of you with another man. It was always you and Daddy; that's all I know.

“So to tell me you're planning to go out with someone, well, that doesn't sit well with me. And I realize it might sound crazy; I do. I'm a fully grown woman but you're still my mother.”

“I appreciate that, baby,” Madeline said. “But your dad—God rest his soul; he was a good man who was good to me—but he's gone. It took me a while to accept it, to deal with it. I'm
still
dealing with it. But it has been almost a year and I have got to live my life, whatever time I have left. And it's not like I'm trying to marry this man. I met him at church and I have seen him a few times.

“He lives in San Diego, but he happens to be visiting his family near here. Why wouldn't we see each other? What's the harm? And above all, why wouldn't you trust me enough to enjoy the company of a man without dishonoring your father? And I knew him better than anyone in the world. Your dad would not want me mourning him for the rest of my life.”

Ginger appreciated her mom's points.

“If he's her friend,” Paul asked his mother, “how did you get involved in this, Ma?”

“Because I asked Maddy to ask if he had a friend,” she answered. “Why not? I'm single. I like adult male attention, too. And don't bring up your father. I'm sure he's living his life, which is what he should do. I have to live mine.”

Neither Paul nor Ginger had any retort of consequence, so they rode on in silence, admiring the wonderful landscape.

When they got into Napa, they took Route 29 all the way in to St. Helena, a quaint little mountainside town in the heart of the Valley. And they really liked it because of its name, Helena, same as their daughter. They admired the wineries they passed along the way: Beringer, Sutter Homes, Peju, Milat, and the endless row of restaurants and shops that begged for a visit.

“You feel like eating?” Brenda said to Madeline.

“I finally feel like myself, for the most part,” she answered. “Well, at least I can eat. My body isn't quite right, but that walk did me good. Shoot, I'll be ready for some wine with lunch.”

“I have a cool place for us to eat,” Paul said. “It's up ahead, I think. Looked it up on the Internet. It's called Gott's Roadside.”

“There it is,” Brenda said, pointing to the left. And so it was. It had an American flag hanging in front, high above the street, and a huge patio filled with umbrellas, people everywhere and smoke rising from its chimney.

“It must be good because it's packed,” Madeline said.

“Very cute,” Brenda added.

Paul parked the car and they made their way in and ordered. They were lucky; they were able to secure a table under an umbrella up against the white picket fence that surrounded the patio.

Madeline had the Chinese Chicken Salad, Brenda the Shrimp Tacos, Ginger a bowl of chili and a Classic Tuna Melt and Paul
the Classic Tossed Cobb Salad and garlic fries. He also ordered a bottle of LaFollette 10 Pinot Noir for thirty-three-dollars.

“Can't have good food without good wine,” Paul said. And no one argued with him.

Madeline said grace and they ate. “Hey,” Paul said, looking at his and Ginger's moms, “you all think you're slick. You were supposed to tell us an embarrassing story that you haven't told anyone.”

“That's right,” Ginger said. “Who's going first?”

“I'm not sure I can tell mine now; we're eating,” Madeline said.

“That's a cop out,” Brenda said.

“OK, fine,” Madeline said. “You have to get closer because I don't want to say this too loudly.”

Everyone leaned in. “It's not a long story,” she began. “I was about twenty-two and dating this guy that I really liked. He was strong and smart and funny and he liked me for me.”

“Sounds like Daddy,” Ginger said.

“Ha, ha. It
was
your Daddy,” Madeline said. “So, we're dating like three months and we'd never been intimate. We spent a lot of time together because we enjoyed each other so much. I was holding out—not because I wasn't attracted to him or even really liked him. I was in love with him and I had to make sure he respected me.

“You know how men can put you in a category if you're too forward. They start thinking you're that way all the time and never once consider that you could only be that way with them because of something they did with you that freed you up.”

“Right,” Brenda jumped in. “Don't get me started with the double standard of how women are viewed by men.”

“That's a whole different talk show,” Madeline said. “But anyway, I had to make sure that he knew I wasn't easy. So, I was having a
hard time sleeping and took some sleeping pills one night right before he came over to my place. My mother was sick, I was thinking about graduate school; there was a lot on my mind and when it was time for bed, I would lie there on my back, looking at the ceiling.

“Well, I also had been sick—stomach problems—and when I was growing up there was no such thing as hot mint ginger tea. My mom gave us a laxative. So that's what I took to feel better.”

“Uh-oh,” Brenda said. “I see where this is going.”

No one else did. “So, he's over my apartment,” Madeline went on. “We're talking and having a good time and it's about two or three in the morning and we're both asleep on the couch. When I woke up, I couldn't ask him to go home.

“So I tell him to come on, ‘Let's go to bed.' He perks right up and I guess thinks we're gonna do something. Anyway, I change into a gown and he's in bed in his boxers. And we're hugging and kissing and I'm so tired that as soon as we stop, I fall asleep. The sleeping pills took over.

“I guess after a while your dad fell asleep, too. Around six in the morning, I wake up. The pills were so strong that I'm a little bit disoriented. I see him resting there peacefully. The sun is peeping through the blinds. Just a perfect little morning.

“Then I start to smell something. I start sniffing him, seeing if it's coming from him. I sit up in the bed and I'm looking around the room, and the scent is getting stronger and stronger. Now it's plain old stinky. So I move the sheets back and the funk bursts into my face. Again, I thought he had passed gas. But the reality was crazy.”

Madeline leaned in even closer so that she could lower her voice and they could still hear her. “It turned out that it wasn't him,” she said. “I looked between my legs and there was a small
pile of shit in the bed, all runny and wet. I had shit on myself in my sleep.”

The group burst into laughter so loud that almost everyone on the patio turned to see what was happening. Paul got up from his seat and leaned over the white picket fence, laughing uncontrollably.

It took them a few minutes to get themselves together.

“Mother,” Ginger said when it calmed down. “Are you serious?”

“The moral of this story?” Madeline asked. “Don't take a sleeping pill and a laxative at the same time.”

And the laughter started again. It took them a few minutes to calm down.

“I tell you what,” Brenda said. “If he married you anyway, he really loved you.”

“Wait,” Paul said, “how did you explain to him what happened?”

“Oh, well, that was funny, too,” Madeline said. “So, I was, as you might guess, panicked when I realized what happened. So I tried to cover up the pile with the sheets to mute the funk and then ease out of the bed without waking him. But all the movement woke him up. So, I tried to hurry to the bathroom, but it was on his side of the bed, so I had to walk right past him.

“Remember that nightgown I said I put on? Well, it was white and the back of it looked like I sat in a giant pile of dark chocolate. It was crazy. I tried to hide it but there was too much mess.”

Laughing, Ginger asked, “What did Daddy say?”

He said, “You OK?”

“I hope you said, ‘No,' ” Brenda said.

“I did. I told him to not move; I didn't want him to—God forbid—roll over onto that mess or pull the cover off of it. So, he just lay there. I cleaned myself up and told him to get out of the bed as I pulled the sheets off.