Southern Roots

Camilla had lived in the South all her days. She was now twenty-nine years of age and still single, which was an unheard of occurrence in the small Southern town she called home. All of her hometown friends had been married for several years and most were parents of at least two children. Camilla didn’t understand the prerequisite. She’d finished college and decided upon returning home because her mother had been ill, but since doing so, she’d been chastised by family, close friends, acquaintances, and even strangers whom she did not know beyond a nod of greeting, for not ‘settling down’.

“My goodness, girl,” they'd all say. “I don’t understand why a pretty little thing like you hasn’t already found yourself a man, settled down, and had children.” And it was always followed by a “well, bless your heart,” comment when she replied that she had no interest in marriage at this time in her life. Camilla was far too used to these reactions, and she had actually grown blissfully immune to them.

Despite not being interested in settling down with anyone, she had agreed to tonight’s blind date, because her best friend, Mary Dallas, insisted she had the perfect man for her. She loved Mary Dallas and didn’t want to insult her by rejecting her best intentions. After all, it would be just one date. Mary Dallas believed Camilla would absolutely adore Duncan, who was someone with whom she had gone to college. Duncan would be passing through and visiting for a few days before heading down to Florida. He worked for a publishing company in New York City, and since Camilla was an aspiring writer, Mary Dallas was sure the meeting was predestined. Camilla did not have the heart to argue the point with her dear friend. It was just much simpler to go on the date, since it would be over soon enough anyway.

So, here Camilla sat, patiently waiting for Duncan to arrive at the Salty River Grill. It was only March, but the air was already humid as she sat outdoors on the patio. Fortunately, there was a slight breeze coming off the water, so she didn’t feel as uncomfortable as she might normally be due to the unseasonably warm weather. The waiter had just brought the bottle of Chateau Blaignan and poured a glass. As she lifted it for the first sip, she immediately smelled the blackcurrant, black cherries and a hint of spice that permeated the wine. It was lusciously vibrant in color, embodying the fruity and velvety flavors that made it so desirable.

As she sipped the wine and waited for Duncan, her mind touched upon a recollection from her childhood. She smiled to herself as she remembered her first experience with wine while growing up in the heart of the Bible Belt. Her Mother had opened a bottle of wine when she was only ten years of age.

“Momma!” she had screamed in horror born of disillusionment. “Mimi and Pastor Brown say that wine is the fruit of the Devil!”

Her mother had smiled at her reassuringly as she poured the rich, burgundy wine into a small juice glass. “Camilla, as much as I love your Mimi and Pastor Brown, wine is not the fruit of the Devil. As in all things in this life, it’s exactly what you perceive of something that makes it so. And with wine, it’s also how much you partake of it. A glass of wine is not a forbidden thing. After all, Jesus turned the water into wine, didn’t he? And Jesus would never want us to drink the fruit of the Devil. Now you just run on and play sweetheart and remember what I told you, because such things apply to more than simply wine in this life.”

And indeed, those words had taught Camilla much more about life than they had about wine. Nearly everything in life was rooted pretty much in the way one perceived it or as to what one made of it. For example, she had been a huge Harry Potter fan while growing up despite the many people in her small town who had wanted to see the book banned, because it was ‘witchcraft and the work of the Devil’. Again, Camilla had easily deduced that the book was about good and evil, much like the Bible, and with good coming out on top, so she really didn’t understand all the fuss. Sure, if you wanted to put an evil slant on it, she guessed that you could do so, but it wasn’t necessary when it was a fictionalized account of magic. She fondly remembered her Mother’s words that day when she’d caught her opening the bottle of wine. Her Mother had been very wise, and she was thankful that she’d listened to her and thankful that she’d applied what she’d said to many different things over the years.

Camilla glanced up to find an attractive man nearing her table. Was this Duncan, she wondered?

The tall man stopped beside her. “Camilla?” he questioned.

Camilla quickly rose and extended her hand in greeting. “Yes, I’m Camilla. It’s so nice to meet you Duncan.”

“Same here,” Duncan replied as he inconspicuously gave Camilla the once over while he shook her hand. She noticed immediately that there was something to which she could not lay a finger about this man, but whatever it was, it did not sit well with her. What could it be?

Once settled in chairs across from one another, Camilla smiled across the expanse of white tablecloth. Duncan was attractive and had beautiful blue eyes. Was it possible that tonight’s date would be more enjoyable than she anticipated? Still, she felt a bit of wariness creep deeper into her being.

“I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of Merlot. Would you like some?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “I love a really good red wine. And anything will do compared to that awful iced tea that you drink here,” he commented. Ignoring Camilla’s look of annoyance and not waiting for the waiter, he picked up the wine bottle and poured a generous measure of the Merlot into his glass. “This is delicious,” he said as he took his first sip. “Fruity and yet a bit of spice. Full-bodied and velvety in its richness,” he noted.

Well, at least he appeared to appreciate good wine, Camilla thought. “Yes, I agree. It’s a lovely wine and the fruitiness of it will pair nicely with most dishes.”

“Speaking of which, have you eaten here before?” Duncan asked. “What’s good on the menu? I have been looking forward to fresh seafood all day.”

“There are many excellent choices,” Camilla began. “The Sea Island Shrimp & Grits is always a favorite, but I prefer the Benne & Poppy Seed Crusted Salmon.”

“The salmon it is,” Duncan said, giving a look of distaste as he added, “I don’t understand how anyone can eat grits!” Camilla could see a dimple in his right cheek as he broke into a huge smile, as if she would appreciate his comment. She was beginning to think his fine looks were certainly deceiving.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t like iced tea or grits?” Camilla asked innocently.

“Are you kidding? Only Southerners would think of such a thing. Tea is meant to be consumed hot. And don’t ask me where the idea came from for grits. They are utterly and despicably disgusting!” Duncan stated emphatically.

Just then, the waiter stopped for their order. Ignoring Duncan, Camilla leaned forward to eagerly rush ahead with a deliberate list of appetizers that they wished to order.

“We will have several things please: the fried catfish, the fried green tomatoes, the fried green beans, the pimento cheese, and some hush puppies. And please bring extra of all those wonderful dipping sauces. And also, we’d each love a huge slice of your special Southern Chocolate Cake with vanilla ice cream and whipped topping for dessert,” she added as an afterthought.

After the waiter left, she innocently glanced at Duncan through her thick lashes and shrugged at his questioning look.

“You must be very hungry, Camilla. But are you sure you want to eat all that fried and rich food? And extra sauces, too? It can’t be good for you.” Duncan was frowning with obvious distaste.

Camilla smiled sweetly. “Well, goodness,” she said in her strongest Southern accent, “It’s just a wee little sample of Southern food that I was sure you would appreciate. If that’s not enough for you, we can always add more!”

Duncan shook his head in disbelief and then looked about the restaurant, slightly uncomfortable.

“Have you any other observations you’d like to note about our lovely Southern culture, Duncan?” Camilla asked, eager for his response. “You’ve already made a distinct impression on me thus far.”

Duncan gave a derisive snort before he turned to her. “Yes, you guys seem to love everything fried and with whipped topping – as you've just proven. To be frank, I am very surprised you don’t weigh 300 pounds, but you surely will before the year’s end. And I’m surprised we aren’t drinking moonshine this evening instead of wine. But it’s highly likely we will be eating with our fingers to make up for it.”

Much credit to Camilla, she merely continued to smile at him – a sweet, innocent, ‘well bless your little heart’ smile. “Anything more, Duncan?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, “But I think it’s time for me to make my exit.”

Camilla barely gave him a glance as she said, “Past time, I do believe. I wish I could say it has been a pleasure, but instead, I’ll just say,....well, bless your heart, Duncan.” Camilla smiled to herself as she sipped the delicious wine and looked out across the water, refusing to acknowledge Duncan’s actual departure as he quickly exited the restaurant.

Moments later, the waiter brought every appetizer she’d ordered, along with bowls of dipping sauces, easily filling the small table. Camilla graciously thanked him and filled her plate with some of each of the delicious items as she contemplated her first – and thankfully, her last – date with Duncan.

Her Mother had been absolutely perceptive and wise about some things and people. And in the case of Duncan, there was no doubt whatsoever that one perceived exactly what one got: a buffoon of a man who had no respect or tolerance for anyone that exhibited any differences when compared to him. She supposed he thought that there was nothing left for him to learn about others, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Well, she was thankful for the fact that it had taken very little time for her to discern this about him, and that she had not wasted additional moments attempting to converse about silly things when the two of them obviously shared absolutely nothing in common.

Nibbling contentedly on the hush puppies while generously dipping her fried green beans in the sauce provided, Camilla reflected that life was pretty much what you made of it, just like her Mother had said. And right now, she was more than content in her own skin and own differences, and what she was making of this life. No, she did not have a man – and she especially did not have the one from tonight whom Mary Dallas had desired for her – but she was more than happy sitting here alone and eating fried food and drinking rich, velvety Merlot while surrounded by the moss hanging from the massive oaks and the breeze coming off the water. And soon she would have the richness of a huge chunk of chocolate cake all to herself, too!

Camilla smiled triumphantly. Yes, life as she knew it now, at this very moment, was good, and she could not be more content. Who could ask for more than good Merlot, delicious fried food, chocolate cake, and such beautiful scenery?