The Gift, page 22
“I always come to your concerts if I’m free. You know that.” He pats my thigh.
“I do.” There are those wedding vows again. Just do it, Toni. Rip the Band-aid off and GO. “I made us an appointment with someone.” My voice trails off as the sentence continues.
“Who?” He looks dead ahead, though we’re the only car on this side road.
“A couples counselor.” I don’t dare look to my left.
“What?! Why would you do that?”
Let me count the reasons.
“We seem to be having difficulties communicating lately.” I throw in the last word to lighten the intensity for him. “I thought it would be healthy for us to go and talk through some stuff. You know, it’s just as normal as going to the dentist these days.” What am I, eighty, using phrases like these days?
“It may be okay for other couples, but we don’t need some outsider in our business. We’re fine. I know we’ve had our issues, but they’ll pass.”
“I’d feel better if we got things out in the open.”
“Like what? Why can’t you just talk to me? You always dance around topics. Spit it the hell out, Toni!” His yelling fills the car, prompting me to cringe and wish I could evaporate into the leather seat.
If he only knew that I can’t freely speak my mind because he’s a different person than he was years ago. I could never tell him my true feelings or my worry about the possibility that I’ll be single again because he’s so fricking stubborn and unbearable. I imagine the roof blowing off the car from the smoke that’d blast from his head. “It would be nice to talk through the winery idea with an unbiased person.”
Why did I choose to start there?
“We’re still on that? Oh, come on.” He emphasizes each pointed word.
My skirt is getting too hot to take, so I hike it up above my knees and push the three-quarter-length sleeves of my blouse higher up on my arms. This allows me to say calmly, “Yes, we are.”
“Leave it to you to ruin a good night with hogwash. I’m not talking about that topic anymore.”
“So, the subject is closed. Just like that? Who are you?” Oh crap. That slipped out. But maybe more needs to escape. Maybe it’s time.
“Excuse me? I’m your loving husband who’s trying to avoid destroying our financial future.”
I crack the window, needing more oxygen. “Christian, I’m not happy.”
Bombs away.
“Something has to give here,” I add.
“What do you mean you aren’t happy? What are you trying to say?” The edge in his voice subsides, reminding me of the old softie I fell in love with—the one who cared.
He continues, “And who are you, by the way? The Toni I knew would never give up a life dream to chase her tail. I can’t believe we’re even arguing about this still.”
“We need help. I don’t feel like I can talk to you anymore, or be myself.” I finally glance at my husband and old best friend.
“I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t changed. You…you’re the one who’s like a stranger, impulsively changing all of our life plans.” He digs in his heels but keeps dulling his voice.
“Well, maybe it is me who’s different, then.” I take full blame, giving in to him again. I’ll do anything to have peace.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Toni.”
“I want to go to counseling with you.” I clutch the top of his hand that’s laying on the shifter and squeeze, bringing it to my lap.
“Well, I need to think about it.”
“To me, that means you need to think about us.” I release his hand, but he holds it in place.
Stopping at a red light, he peers at me. “You know that’s not what it means. I love you. I just don’t know why we can’t seem to get back on track and why we need the help of someone else.”
“The help of a trained professional, not just some creep off the street.” Somehow, the imagery of a kooky stranger talking to us on the corner provides slight comic relief.
“When is this appointment you made and didn’t have permission for?” Since the light turned green, his attention returns to the road, along with his hand to his own side of the car.
Like his Tad appointments? His intentions were good, and so are mine. Hopefully, he can see that. “It’s after the 2CELLOS concert next month. That was the earliest I could get us in because of the holidays. The front desk person told me it’s a hectic time—you know, holiday blues, New Year’s resolutions, and all that. I made the appointment when we’re always both free, but I can move it if needed.” I finally lower my skirt back down. With Christian’s attitude losing steam, the hot air also decreased.
“I don’t like that you didn’t ask me, but…”
Wow, he’s actually going to agree to go to counseling.
“…I’ll let you know.”
I deflate in my seat.
“I guess I’ll have to accept that answer. Thanks for thinking about it.” Playing to his ego is nothing new. Hopefully, this will give me brownie points, although I want to demand that he stop the car so I can break out of the trap.
My mind wanders to the real possibility of us separating. But keeping our marriage should be our reality…and our goal. Counseling can’t be that much of a miracle, though, can it?
Chapter
Forty-One
Since Christian handled my vulnerability in his usual way all week—with silent treatment and snippy interactions—I had to do something for movement. That something was applying for an agricultural loan today. The lady at the new bank said it may be much easier for me to get this type of loan because of my good credit, with or without Christian agreeing to using our savings, so I went for it. I’ll go from there when I know what’s what.
With all this energy spent on the multiple balls in the air, I can’t wait to have time to relax tonight when I meet up with Flora and David at our wine tasting and pairing class. Looking forward to it has been getting me through the hurdles of the week. Well, one hurdle I can jump over is the LA Phil show pieces. At least I’ve played them before now, since they’re common holiday-oriented songs. Every cellist knows this music like the back of their hand, though some arrangements are slightly different.
“Toni?” Christian breaks my internal dialogue with a rare, kind tone—as well as talking to me at all.
“Yeah?” I put down my phone, not realizing I’d been mindlessly scrolling on it the last few minutes.
He makes himself comfortable in the chair across from the couch. “I decided I’ll go to the counseling appointment with you.”
“Oh. I…” Wasn’t expecting that… “I’m glad.” I grab a throw pillow and hug it in my cross-legged lap.
“I know I haven’t been the greatest this week, but I needed to think about things.”
“And?”
“I think we can use some help too.” He looks down and to the side.
“There’s the man I know. Thank you,” I reply, not sure what I’m feeling. Am I relieved?
“We’ll see how good this counselor is, though. Give me their name. I want to look them up for myself.”
“You got it.” I want to laugh and cry at his insistence of control but would want to know who I’m facing as well.
“I was thinking that maybe we can go out tonight. What do you think? Maybe some Italian fooood?” He grins and shifts his weight in the chair toward my direction.
I hug the pillow tighter. “Uh, I made plans with Flora…and David.” Here we go.
“See, that’s what I mean.” His outburst is so loud Nala darts out of the room. “You just go off and do whatever you want, not thinking about whether I’d want to do something tonight.”
I wince. “Christian,” I say, keeping my tone serene, “you weren’t even really talking to me the last few days. I wanted to do something on a Friday night. That’s not unreasonable. I think I deserve a break.”
He rolls his eyes.
I guess we’re back to a hissy fit.
“And what are your plans with your sister and boyfriend?”
“Stop saying that!” So much for the calm voice or having a civilized conversation.
“Come on, Toni. He loves you. Just admit it.”
I exhale with all of my heated breath. “That’s in your head.” Each word chops the air.
“I can’t believe you don’t see it. He follows you around like a little puppy. No real man would do that. Tell him to grow a set. And while you’re at it, get a brain for yourself.”
I rise and throw the pillow to the floor. “That’s enough about him. He’s one of the sweetest people I know. And he’d never talk to me the way you do.”
“You need help, Toni. Good thing you have that counseling appointment. Maybe you should go by yourself.”
Arghhhhh.
While I walk over to our bedroom, he adds, “What, are you going to go call David? No, probably text. When I checked your phone, there were enough of those on there.”
I scream, “You’re snooping in my phone now?! Oh, that’s great. You’ve sunk to a new level, Christian. No wait, you also went through my work tote. Yeah, I know about that. How long has this all been happening?!” How long have I been blind?
“I do these things because I love you. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t check up on you?” His voice eerily softens. “You’re lucky to have someone who cares about you so much.”
He believes his actions show love? Ugh, the thought makes me sick. And how many times do I have to say David is just a friend?!
Christian chuckles. “I’m surprised there weren’t love notes from David in your planner.”
“You’re something else.” A normal person would hide bad behavior, but good old Christian leans into it, doubling down. “Leave my stuff alone, and leave me alone!” Before closing the door, I add, “Oh, and we’ll be learning about wine tonight. I know you love hearing that,” and slam the door. I lock it without delay, needing space for eternity.
A strange silence ensues outside the four walls of the room, but I sit on the floor next to my bed and tap the ground for Nala to come out of hiding.
She army crawls toward me, and I scoop her up, for both our sakes. Petting her tiny, furry body is just the emotional support I need in this moment. “We’ll be okay,” I whisper, only half believing it for me if I stay with him.
Chapter
Forty-Two
"Let’s try the first glass in front of you.” Hudson, the wine shop owner, instructs our small class in his tasting room while standing in front of our high-top tables. “It’s a sauvignon blanc. Follow the tasting steps we just went over—see the color, swirl it to aerate it, smell it, sip it, and swish it in your mouth. You may choose to then savor or spit, but I always savor.” He adds sassiness to every S word.
Flora’s and my eyes meet as we follow Hudson’s advice, then we each take a bite of the paired goat cheese.
“Nutty and herbal goat cheese is a great match for the notes of citrus and minerals in the sauvignon blanc.” He nods as he scans his students in action.
“I love goat cheese,” David says after swallowing a bite.
“Me too,” Flora agrees.
“It’s hit or miss for me. Sometimes I like it, but sometimes it’s too…something. Tangy? I’m not sure what the word is, but it’s a little too much for me here and there. This one’s delicious, though.” I swizzle another bit of wine after my bite.
“What we’re experiencing, awesome humans, is a pairing that’s complementary to the wine. This varietal has a high acidity, so the goat cheese helps to lessen its heaviness.” Hudson’s eyes enlarge with his information.
A few people murmur, “Ahh.”
After most of us complete round one of tasting, Hudson continues, “Now, there’s also congruent pairing, which enhances the richness in the food. That would be what’s next in your setup.” He pauses and points to our tables in a back-and-forth motion. “It’s much easier for a beginning wine lover to use congruent pairing. Think, matching. So, a bold meat needs a bold wine.”
“That makes sense.” I reach for the next stemmed glass without waiting for further instruction, taking a sip after cruising through the steps. “Mmm, I always love reds more than whites.”
“I usually do too. Must be a family preference.” Flora giggles. “What isn’t, though, is collecting a spot of red in the crack of your mouth.” She giggles again.
I lick the corners of my lips. At least with her I know she finds my differences humorous, unlike an increasingly embarrassed husband.
“It’s her charm,” David chimes in then smiles.
I refuse to let Christian’s words about David enter my mind when he acts like a totally ordinary friend with a totally ordinary friend statement. Back to wine, thank you very much. And food!
“The second wine is a pinot noir from Napa Valley and will be tasted with the gruyere in front of you, if you wish.” Hudson’s speech has a hint of a French accent, but just like the goat cheese trait, I can’t put my finger on it.
I bite into the cheese since I’ve worked ahead of the class and already sampled the wine. “Oh, yes!” I exclaim maybe a little too loud, since our neighbors turn their heads.
“This wine is younger in age, so the tannins are stronger.” Hudson sips on water and waits while we taste.
“Hudson?” I ask. “This may be a dumb question, but can you explain exactly what a tannin is?”
“There are no dumb questions here.”
The way he pronounced his last word, missing the h, definitely sounds like a French accent. Okay, I’ve decided…because that’s really what’s important here.
“A tannin is a wine’s pucker power.” He raises his eyebrows repeatedly in jest. “The younger the wine, the more it usually has, coming from the skins, stems, and seeds of the grape.”
“Yeah, sometimes I swallow wine and can’t help but let out a, ‘Whaa.’” Flora smacks her lips.
“Exactly right,” he says. “This one is from a few years ago—a good year for Napa wine.”
“Thanks for that explanation.” I continue to taste the new favorite wine, thinking I’ll buy a bottle before leaving.
Hudson moves his head up and down in acknowledgment.
Once the class makes it to the last glass, the cabernet sauvignon, I’m more than ready for my ultimate varietal of wine. Skipping ahead again, I start the tasting stages and retreat to my own little wine world. The thickness of the red gold coats the entire glass in artistic drips, meeting the rest at the base. My mouth can’t delay a second longer to enjoy it, so I bring the glass to my mouth and move forward.
Are those trumpets outside or in my head, bopping in ecstasy? I direct my awe to both Flora and David. “My God, right?”
“I’m glad you invited me tonight, Toni. All of this wine tasting lately has made me a huge fan.” David nibbles on his cheese.
“Of course. I love that you’ve been on these wine adventures with me.”
Having heard Hudson say this cheese is aged cheddar, through my cloud nine lack of focus, I also go for a chunk. Perfection blends in my mouth. I guess I’ll be buying a bottle of this wine too.
“This cab from Temecula Valley pairs well with the fattiness of the cheddar. Its boldness…” Hudson continues, but I’m stuck on Temecula Valley and stop hearing his words.
When the sound from his mouth stops, I investigate. “Hudson, excuse me. One more question.” I’m that student apparently.
“Yes, madame.” His tone remains light.
“What do you think of the wines from there? Temecula Valley.” Maybe Pietro is nudging me to inquire.
“They’re lovely. I think that area needs more attention than it gets, personally. It’s a hidden gem of California.” He brings his fingers to his mouth and kisses then releases them toward us.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” I smile at him, turning my head to join eyes with my crew, but the joy fades fast. I need all the good words I can get about the place I love when my thoughts often drift to where I don’t love. What if Christian never comes around to wine time—or that loan? What will I do? I can’t imagine being offered an LA Phil chair, so am I destined to be dealing with the music jobs I’ve always had, leading to a lifetime of frustration and boredom?
But look at all the basics I still need to learn about the wine industry, even if all else works out. I don’t know how to plant grape seeds or use the equipment for a vineyard or... My chest tightens as I find myself clutching the stem of the wine glass in my hand so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break. That’s just what Hudson needs from me next.
“Toni, what do you think of this one? We didn’t see that winery down there, but we may have to go next time.” David points to a bottle at the front of the room.
Blinking in succession, I zoom in on the bottle in question. It’s getting more difficult to turn off my worry for the future, but I have wonderful support around me who can help no matter what happens. I stare at Flora and David as my heart fills with gratitude for them.
Squinting to read the label David’s pointing out, I also don’t recognize it. “Yeah, you know that sounds good to me. I’ll go to any winery anytime.” A grin disguising my inner battle emerges.
Smelling the blackberry scent at my nose, I hope to escape into wine’s flowing graces—my happy place. And that’s one thing I’m sure of today.
Walking on Santa Monica beach to make sure I’m sober to drive us to our homes later, I’m glad I brought this thick knit sweater. “It’s colder than usual this weekend.” I secure the red waist ties and grip the collar to shield my neck from the night ocean wind.
“Yeah, a fluke for sure,” Flora adds.
“It’s been a weird time, so why not have the weather match?” I chuckle, shifting my sandal straps between my fingers. The sand nestles my feet with each step, luckily not too chilly to enjoy.
