The Truth is in the Wine Page 9

  They went to the reception area and were seated near a fireplace. He held the chair for Ginger and placed her cloth napkin in her lap.

  “Look who’s suddenly Mr. Chivalry now,” she joked. “I guess good sex brings out all kinds of stuff.”

  “Especially good sex after not having any for about a year,” Paul said.

  “Excuse me, but we had sex about two months ago and two months before that,” Ginger asserted.

  “That’s a pretty sad timeline. But it wasn’t anything like what just happened,” Paul said. “We had sex then. Just now, we had sex and we made love at the same time. Know what I’m saying?”

  Ginger blushed.

  Their parents arrived at that table about that time. They had killed a bottle and a half by themselves and it was obvious. They were as giddy as schoolgirls, laughing and joking as if they were life-long pals.

  Ginger and Paul were amazed.

  Everyone ordered the holiday dinner of turkey, dressing, yams and greens and enjoyed it to the hilt, all the while engaging in lighthearted conversation that made it feel like a family meal.

  Madeline and Brenda passed on wine with their meals, but they allowed Paul to order a bottle as a nightcap, Shiraz, and when all was poured in the glasses, he offered a toast.

  “This is what family is about—enjoying each other and loving life. I’ve always wanted this for us, so if feels good to finally have it.”

  They tapped glasses and, for Paul, he felt on top of his world. He was healthy, his wife seemed to be coming around and he was a millionaire. He felt the urge to tell the ladies of his luck, but thought better of it. Not yet, he said to himself.

  “Look at you two,” Brenda said, staring at her son and Ginger. “Y’all look like you just had sex.”

  Paul practically choked on his wine.

  “You know what? You’re right,” Madeline chimed in. “Look at you, Ginger. I noticed it when you first came down, but I let it go. You all been up there doing the do.”

  “Mother,” Ginger said. “I don’t believe you. Doing the do?”

  “Yes, but am I wrong?” Madeline asked.

  “If you were right or wrong, I wouldn’t answer,” Ginger said. “I can’t believe you would even ask me something like that.” Brenda said. “Paul’s just a smiling. I recognize the look. He ain’t said a word.”

  “ ’Cause he doesn’t have a thing to say about that,” Paul said. “This is a case when too good much wine goes wrong.”

  “Can we get back to the meal?” Ginger said.

  “Why isn’t Helena with us?” Madeline asked. “It would be perfect if she was here, too.”

  “I know,” Brenda said. “I don’t get to see my granddaughter enough as it is.”

  “Who’s fault, is that, Ma?” Paul said. “Helena wanted to go to her roommate’s home and spend the holiday there. She’s loving her college experience and sometimes that’s a part of it. She’ll be home for Christmas.

  “And this is a grown people trip. Would you be drinking as much wine as you have if she were here?”

  “Yes, I would, because I’m grown and can do whatever I want to do,” Brenda said. “And the reason I say she should be here is because I remember what it was like for me when I went to my roommate’s hometown for a weekend in college.”

  “Well,” Ginger said, “Miss Wall, we spoke to the young lady’s parents and they are aware that they are teenagers who are young and can get wild. I’m not stupid: Helena isn’t an angel, at least not around us.

  “I spoke to her earlier and she said she is fine and enjoying herself. It’s a parent’s nature to worry. But I’m not going to drive myself crazy with it by making sure she’s with us all the time. She needs her freedom to build responsibility.”

  “Yes, but this is family time and she should be with her family,” Madeline said.

  Ginger resisted the urge to snap at her mom, and instead reached for the wine. “Well, in reality, it was our decision, Mother,” she said.

  “I’ve never seen you sip so much wine,” Paul quickly added, attempting to advance the conversation.

  “I never needed to sip so much wine,” Ginger said.

  Paul smiled, but no one else did. He looked at his mother and the look on her face was not a good one.

  “Ma, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I don’t feel good,” she said. “Too much wine.”

  “I don’t feel good, either,” Madeline said.

  “Mother, what’s wrong?” Ginger asked.

  “My head. My stomach,” she answered.

  “What kind of wine were you drinking?” Paul said. “Both of you not feeling good? This is crazy.”

  “I’m feeling sick,” Brenda said. She pushed away from table and placed both her hands over her stomach. Her face became flushed, her skin clammy.

  “Come on, let’s go to the bathroom,” Paul said.

  “I’m going, too,” Madeline said. “I’m going to throw up.”

  Ginger and Paul hurried from the table and helped usher the women toward the bathroom.

  “Ma, wine doesn’t do this to you,” Paul said. “I don’t understand this.”

  Three feet from the bathroom door, Brenda threw up, a heaping splattering of her breakfast, lunch, dinner and drinks. Seeing that helped Madeline throw up, too.

  And passersby shook their heads in disgust. Paul and Ginger went straight to caregiver roles, trying to comfort their moms.

  “I got them,” Ginger said, as she walked the ladies into the bathroom. She glanced down at the vomit on the floor. “Maybe you should get that up,” she said to Paul.

  “Hell, no,” he said. “I’ll get some paper towels and cover it, but that’s it.”

  And so he did and then went back to the table to finish the wine, pay the bill and wait on the ladies. After about fifteen minutes, they came out, and he rushed from the restaurant area to meet them.

  “You feeling better?” he said to his mom, as he clutched her arm.

  “I feel woozy, but a little better,” she said. “Seems like I’ve got to get whatever’s left in my stomach out of it.”

  “I don’t understand,” Paul said. “For both of you to have a reaction like this over wine doesn’t seem right.”

  No one responded to Paul, which made him uneasy, curious. They continued toward the elevator without anyone saying anything.

  Finally, as they got into the elevator, the mothers looking totally worn down and intoxicated, Ginger let it out.

  “They got sick because your mother ordered shots,” Ginger said with anger in her voice.

  “Shots?” Paul said. “Shots of what?”

  “Tequila.”

  “Ma, you don’t even like tequila,” he said. “Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t know and I’m too sick to go into it now,” she said, her voice weary.

  Ginger looked at Paul with fire in her eyes. He looked at his mother with dismay as he helped her into her room. She collapsed on the queen-sized bed closest to the bathroom.

  “Paul, I feel like I’m going to throw up again,” Brenda said. “I need you to stay here and take care of me.”

  He did not know what to do, so Ginger spoke up.

  “Yeah, he can stay here with you and I will take Mother to our room,” she said.

  Paul’s head snapped in her direction. In his mind the night would be spent resuming their lovemaking of earlier in the day. Ginger knew what was on his mind.

  “That’s right,” she said. “You stay here with your mother since she created this…situation.”

  She and Madeline headed out the door toward Paul’s and Ginger’s room.

  “You’re blaming this on my mother?” Paul said. “Last I looked your mother is a grown woman and I’m sure no one made her drink that tequila.”

  Ginger said, “My mother ordered the second shot, but your mom shouldn’t have even brought tequila into the equation.”

  “Oh, she did?” Paul said, looking side-eyed at Gi
nger, who was standing in the doorway with her mother on her arm. “I guess I should be mad at your mom, huh?”

  Ginger turned and slowly walked three rooms down the hallway with her mother. There, she was glad they had two beds because she and Paul had littered the other bed, closest to the window, in their passion.

  Her mom said, “Let me lay down for a few,” she said. “I feel so weak and so…so drunk. I need to close my eyes and get my head together and my stomach right.”

  Ginger took off her shoes. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “I’m going to get a gown from your room so you can change.”

  In the hallway, she encountered Paul, who was headed to his room to get his toiletry bag and something to sleep in.

  “So you have attitude with me because your mother drank what she shouldn’t have?” Paul said.

  “Your mother had to take it to another level,” Ginger said.

  “My mother?” he responded. “I might have not had a good flight here, but I did notice that your mother had liquor in a flask on the plane. So who’s zooming who?”

  Ginger stormed off to the other room to get her mom’s belongings. She thought Brenda was asleep, but she was not.

  “Ginger, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Sit down for a minute.”

  Ginger obliged her. “We didn’t mean to ruin our Thanksgiving dinner. We took that first shot because your mother and I came to a truce and we drank to it. It was my idea.”

  “What was the truce?” Ginger asked.

  “To make sure you and my son stay together,” she answered. “We might be old—or older—but we’re not blind or crazy. We knew you all have been having troubles for many months now. She blamed Paul; I blamed you.

  “What we realized in spending some time together today is that sometimes it’s nobody’s fault. Sometimes things happen just through living. It’s up to you and him to work it out. But we, as mothers-in-law, could help by being friends and not enemies.

  “So, your mom asked for the second shot—for family. And that’s why we got sick. Two shots. I haven’t had a shot in forty years. It was too much.”

  “You all are something else,” Ginger said. “I guess the best thing about it is that you all are now getting along after almost twenty years.”

  “In my heart, I only agreed to come on this trip to really learn about your mom, who she was, what she really was like. We never really spent any real amount of time together. Don’t get me wrong: I wanted to come to Napa Valley. But that was another big part of my reason for agreeing to come.”

  “Wow,” Ginger said, “the truth really is in the wine. And the tequila, too, I guess.”

  While that was going on, Madeline surprised Paul. “Don’t go yet,” she said as he was heading toward the door with his luggage.

  “Huh?” Paul said.

  “Can you sit down, for a minute?” Madeline said in a voice so low Paul had to strain to hear her. “The room is spinning but I want to apologize for that mess we caused down there tonight. I’m glad it didn’t happen in the restaurant. I also wanted to say that I am glad you planned this trip.

  “You probably didn’t want me to come; I haven’t been the best mother-in-law to you. Not because I don’t like you or even love you—I do. It’s just that Ginger has been my whole life. Do you know that when she was born, we both almost died? Yes, complications came up—I had some rare condition and my blood pressure dropped and it was all messed up—and they had to take her to save her. And her heart rate dropped, the cord was wrapped around her neck and she was breech.

  “But she…we both made it. Doctors said we were little miracles. Your child will always be special to you, but she was even more special to me. So I am a little overboard when it comes to protecting her and wanting the best for her, no matter how old she is.

  “But here’s the thing: You are the best man for her—always have been.”

  And suddenly she was asleep. So, Paul gathered his things and headed to his mom’s room. In the hallway, he and his wife’s paths crossed again. The brief chat with their in-laws tempered their anger.

  “Wild night, huh?” Paul said, smiling.

  “Crazy,” Ginger said. “I feel so bad for them. They are messed up. And we’re supposed to have breakfast at nine and then start touring wineries.”

  “If they aren’t up to it, we can drive around and see the area, eat and do wines later in the day—or the next day,” Paul said. “We’ll play it by ear.”

  “OK,” Ginger said. “Let me go in here and check on this woman.”

  “I’ll bring you a glass of wine later,” Paul said. “Keep your phone near by. I’ll text you.”

  But Paul never texted and it did not matter to Ginger; both listened to their respective mothers share news about themselves they never knew and were so shell-shocked by the information that they did not dare stop them. They listened…and listened…and listened until they fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 10

  HUNG-OVER & OUT

  The morning brought less pain for Brenda and Madeline, but they were hardly themselves. Madeline went back to her room. She and Brenda showered and got dressed around ten o’clock and sat on the bed waiting for Ginger and Paul.

  “I feel like a truck ran over me; then backed up and did it again,” Brenda said.

  “Same truck must have hit me, too,” Madeline said. “My head doesn’t hurt, but my stomach is not quite right and my body feels worn down.”

  “This is crazy,” Brenda said, as Paul knocked on the door. “We’re in the best area of the United States for wine and I don’t want to even see a bottle of wine.”

  She opened it and Paul stood in the threshold, smiling, with two cups of coffee in his hands.

  “OK, party animals,” he said. “Here’s a pick-me-up.”

  “Very funny,” Brenda said, as she reached for a cup. “But this is exactly what I need.”

  “I don’t even drink coffee, but if it’s going to get me to feeling better, then I’ll try some,” Madeline said. “Where’s Ginger?”

  “She’s gone down to get us a table for breakfast,” Paul said.

  He walked with the ladies to the elevator. “That was some night,” he said. “I was feeling great about everything and then—”

  “Do you really have to remind us, son?” Brenda asked. “It was embarrassing enough. Let’s not relive it.”

  “I can’t promise it won’t come up again,” Paul said.

  “Did you get some pleasure out of us being so sick?” Madeline said.

  “Pleasure? Seeing you all throw up in the hallway? Seeing you intoxicated?” Paul said. “Of course, not? But I did speak to both of you last night while you were in bed. Do you recall that?”

  “You talked to me?” Madeline asked.

  “No,” Paul said, holding the elevator door open for them, “you talked to me.”

  “Oh my goodness,” she said. “I don’t remember that. What did I say?”

  “That you love me and I’m the best thing that ever happened to Ginger,” Paul said. “That’s the abbreviated version.”

  And then he laughed, making Madeline uncertain if he was joking or telling the truth. The elevator doors opened and Ginger was standing right there.

  “Oh, I was coming up to see where you all were,” she said. “Hi, Mother. How you feeling? How are you, Ms. Wall?”

  “OK,” they said almost in unison.

  “Well, the coffee should help,” Ginger said. “And maybe some oatmeal and toast.”

  “That’s about all I can take right now,” Madeline said.

  They made their way to the restaurant.

  “I hope no one remembers us from last night,” Madeline said. “That was so embarrassing.”

  “I know,” Brenda said. “I almost want to change hotels.”

  “Well, we’re not doing that, Ma,” Paul said. “We don’t know them and they don’t know us. So it really doesn’t matter.”

  “You weren’t the one who vomited in the lobby,”
Brenda said.

  “Touché,” he responded.

  They made their way to their seats for breakfast. Paul and Ginger felt refreshed. They slept about seven hours.

  “On the east coast, it’s about one in the afternoon,” Ginger said. “I’m hungry.”

  “My stomach doesn’t feel quite right, but I’m eating because it’s time to eat,” Brenda said.

  And so, everyone ate. Paul sat across from his wife and between his mother and mother-in-law. He felt a distance from Ginger that he could not pinpoint. He thought they had gotten past blaming each other’s mother for their intoxication the night before, but knowing her, he sensed something was amiss.

  “Gin, how you doing? How’s your food?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said without looking up. He knew then something was bothering her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. He figured she still blamed his mother for her mom getting sick and throwing up.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  The parents looked on, curiously.

  “Come on, I know you,” he said. “You can tell me. We’re among family.”

  Ginger raised her head and looked at him. “Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked.

  “Huh? No,” he said. “Tell you about what?”

  “About how you ended up out of work last year, which started all the drama we have had,” she said.

  Paul’s heartbeat increased, but he remained outwardly calm—and did not say a word.

  “Let’s talk about it since you want to talk so much, since you want to know what’s wrong with me,” Ginger said.

  “Maybe you should talk in private,” her mother said.

  “No, Paul said we’re among family and I should say what’s on my mind,” Ginger responded. “So I’ll ask again: Why did you lose your job?”

  “What are you talking about?” Paul asked.

  “I spoke to your mother last night,” Ginger said.

  “What?” Brenda said, shocked. “What are you talking about?”

  “See, that’s what a good buzz will do; you start telling stuff you didn’t mean to tell,” Ginger said. “You told me some harmless stuff and you also said, ‘I know you have been having issues because of why Paul got fired.”