What a Glass of Merlot Can Hold

Always in her head, she struggles to focus on the moment more times than not, but tonight Cynthia is making an extra effort to connect her mind with her body. It feels important to stay present. After all, James seems to be a promising candidate for her attention. Over the months spent sharing pleasant conversations in the office, they are finally taking a chance to get to know each other in a different setting.

Cynthia learned a lot more about James just from the location he chose for their rendezvous – a dimly lit, yet meticulously clean French restaurant, in other words, the classic formal date setting. He seems to be trying just as hard here as he does at work. This doesn’t surprise her, and she files it away mentally, with her other observations. She walks into this date feeling like she knows him decently well as it is and tells herself to focus on having a good time.

As they walk to their table at the back left of the dining room, Cynthia sees a black vest-clad server pouring a glass of Merlot for a woman in a red dress so dark it just about matches the wine. This familiar sight grabs hold of Cynthia’s mind. While the wine is far enough away that its scent should not reach her nose, she smells the rich stone fruits clearly and distinctly. If it is this wine or a wine from the cellars of her memory that is the true source of this smell, she cannot be sure; they are one and the same. The smooth flow of the liquid into the depths of that glass draws her back to a place she has no desire to visit in this present moment, but, alas, it seems she has no choice. The shining red memories wash over her.

Six years old, Cynthia tugs at the edge of her mother’s robe, begging her to play with her only daughter, to entertain her, to spend but a mere few minutes in her fantasy world. Try as her daughter may, Alice appeases her not and instead fills another glass with the deep red liquid from the box on the counter. Cynthia knows her attempts are futile, but, nonetheless, she hopes every time will be different from the last.

Eleven years old, Cynthia has grown to be somewhat numb to the red wine-induced stupor that her mother so frequently inhabits. She knows that if she wants to avoid the worst of it, she should come home, put her backpack down, microwave a frozen burrito, and retreat to the semi-comfort of her bedroom. If she stays out of the way, she knows it’s likely that she will be momentarily forgotten, like a spider that has stepped into the shadows. Being forgotten is better than being noticed in times like these.

Nineteen years old, Cynthia, after many failed attempts to prevent her mother from turning to a bottle or a box for answers that never seem to come, has accepted her role as the guardian of her mother, even when it makes no sense. She has fought the Merlot’s unwelcome influence for years, but now she reluctantly tolerates it as she would the presence of an unfriendly and uninvited family member. It is a part of her life, but she doesn’t like it. She would not choose it if given a choice.

Alice is a woman who tries. For years, she has worked two jobs that pay less than the one she hoped to get out of college. For years, she has told herself that she will inspire her daughter, that she will go after her dreams, that she will dream, but day after day, she feels like she’s falling short of achieving these goals. She tries her best, but she feels like it’s all too much. Giving Cynthia all that she needs is the one goal that Alice believes she is meeting consistently. She always makes sure there is food in the house for Cynthia, and that there is a house, for that matter, but she often overlooks that her daughter also needs her time. At the end of the day, when she believes she has provided Cynthia with all she can, Alice tries to clear her mind with a glass, or five, of her favorite red wine; her favorite being whatever costs her the least that day. Her favorite is usually boxed Merlot from the liquor store around the corner.

Too many times, Cynthia battled Merlot for the attention of her mother and too many times Cynthia lost. In the years since she moved out of her mother’s home, she has chosen to avoid running into this old opponent. She has been successful up until this moment, but now, when she sees that glass filling with Merlot, she is reminded of her mother’s indifference to her pleas for affection, the countless fights they had over what being responsible really looks like, and the rare occasions that the wine encouraged her mother to take a swing.

Back in the world of now, as she is taking her seat, Cynthia’s head fills with questions. She may know what types of music James listens to, where he grew up, and what books have changed his life, but she has no clue what he sees around him. How does he see the world? What does he see in that glass of Merlot?