The Truth is in the Wine (19 page)

“I've apologized about this time and time again,” Paul said. “And I will continue to apologize about it. I wasn't in my right mind. You've known me for more than twenty years. That was like someone other than me was speaking. I was in a bad place. But that's part of why we're here, to get beyond that.”

“I know,” Ginger said. “But this is something else. Please, let me get it out. I think it's the reason why I was so upset that day I told you I was all panicked in the garage. It was more than having to live with you without Helena there as a buffer. It was living with myself, what I did, that was also bothering me.”

Paul's mind immediately switched to infidelity. What else could it be that she would have trouble living with herself? And in an instant he was mad, furious, embarrassed, humiliated, jealous. It is with that speed a man can get to all those emotions when he believes his woman has betrayed him.

“What did you do, Ginger?” he said. He needed to hear the words. Not that they would be soothing. “What did you do?”

The server arrived with his glass of wine and Paul did not bother to even acknowledge her. “Ginger,” he repeated, “what did you do?”

She looked into his eyes, eyes that were far from comforting. “Paul, after you told me you wanted a divorce, I was lost and hurt and didn't know what to do with my life,” she began. “In that moment, I realized that my life was hinged on our marriage. I sunk everything into you and Helena and now it was falling apart. I didn't know what to do.”

Paul sat with his arms folded, waiting for the real news.

“The day before you told me you wanted a divorce, I learned I was pregnant,” Ginger added. Paul unfolded his arms and sat up in his chair.

“What?” he said, amazement all over his face. “I thought, I mean…the doctors said…you know…”

“I know; they said I couldn't get pregnant,” Ginger stepped in. “We tried for years but nothing happened. Well, that one time when we basically just needed to be physical with each other—we were in the middle of all our drama—produced a pregnancy.”

Paul was relieved, shocked and delighted.

“Are you telling me we have a baby coming?” he said, smiling while looking down at her stomach.

His response made the news Ginger had to share even more devastating.

“No, Paul, we don't,” she answered softly.

“But you said you were…” His voice drifted off as the realization of what happened hit him.

“I had an abortion, Paul,” she managed to get out.

Paul literally shook his head, as if the words would be jumbled and came out to mean something else. But there was no mistaking what she said.

“You had an abortion? What are you talking about?” Paul said, sounding confused.

“You told me you wanted a divorce,” Ginger said. “You said you didn't want me anymore. What was I to do? Bring a child into a world where we were going to split up? It seemed crazy to me at the time. I don't hate anyone, but I truly detested you. You were mean and cold and totally dismissive of me, as if I was some rag doll.”

“Still, Ginger, you don't get rid of a baby without talking to your husband,” Paul said. He noticed his voice rose and looked around to see if anyone was there to hear. There was not.

“We weren't talking at all, Paul,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “What was I supposed to do? You didn't want me. That's what you told me. How could I think you'd want a baby?”

Paul shook his head. He never expressed to Ginger how much he always wanted a child born of his genes. Instead, at the time, he comforted Ginger when the doctors told her she could not conceive. He loved Helena as if she were of his body. But if they could have had a child between them, it would have meant everything to him.

“An abortion?” Paul said. “I know we weren't talking. I know what I said. But, still. That's a pretty big deal, Ginger. You…Didn't you know how much I wanted a child with you?”

“No,” she said. “The next day after the pregnancy test came back positive—you didn't even notice that I was sick and sluggish—you came home and told me you didn't want me anymore. That's what I remember. And I knew then what I had to do.

“It was the hardest decision of my life. I wanted a baby so badly, too. But I wanted a family more. And if I couldn't have a family with you, it didn't make sense to have a baby…I was devastated when I couldn't have a child and I was shocked when I was pregnant. It told me the doctors do not have power over God. I was so happy.

“Why do you think I cooked that nice meal that night? We hadn't been talking or anything. But I had a nice meal and sat there with you at the table. That was the night I was going to tell you, hoping that the news would bring you around, make you see we had something to bring us back together. And before I can say anything, you tell me you want a divorce. I was livid and hurt and, to be honest, devastated. But mostly, I was confused. There was nothing to say after you so coldly told me what you wanted.”

“Oh, my God,” Paul said. “You might not understand it, but that was an unselfish act I was trying to make that night. I was basically saying you deserve better than me. I wasn't being the man I needed to be for you. I was at a low point and I didn't see
any way to come out of it. The way I lost my job, which you didn't even know about. The terrible job market. Doing the odd jobs to keep food on the table. I felt like I was dissolving into nothing. You deserved more.”

His voice drifted off. Ginger wiped her face and reached over to hold Paul's hand. He pulled it away.

“But you took the one thing away from me that could have changed my life,” he said, the anger in his voice distinctive. “You knew how much a child would have meant to me. We talked about it for years. Helena brought us the best joy we could have received. But she also was a blessing because we loved her so much we stopped talking about not being able to have a child. And now, you somehow get pregnant—a miracle—and you kill the baby? How could you do that?”

“Paul, that's a very mean thing to say, way to put it,” she said. “I didn't know what to do. I was confused. I—”

“That's when you talk to your husband, dammit,” Paul said. “You don't go off and get rid of a baby without talking to your husband. I don't care what I said to you that night. What you did was bigger than what I said.”

Ginger's emotions ran high, but she remained poised. “You've got to know that was not an easy decision for me,” she said. “But I had to do what I thought was right. I have beaten myself up about it every day since then. But I'm not going to let you beat me up, too. If you had been more of a man and faced your challenges instead of giving in to them, we wouldn't even be here. That's the hard truth and I'm sorry I am saying it to you like this. But it's the truth. So, you can blame me all you want—and I understand why you would—but you know the truth.”

“Oh, so it's my fault that you went out and did what you did?” Paul said.

“It's my body and my life,” Ginger said, getting angry. “I'm not going to let you make me feel more upset about it than I have already been. But until the last several weeks, I didn't feel that badly. I felt like I did the right thing. You weren't fit to be a father to a baby. You were acting like a baby yourself.”

“Kiss my ass, Ginger,” Paul said, rising from the table. He turned to walk away, but turned back to pick up his glass of wine off the table and stormed off, leaving his wife there with her thoughts.

She was so angry she could not even cry. He made her question her decision, but she believed she did the right thing at the time. Still, his words could not be ignored. Maybe her decision was hasty. Maybe she should have thought about how the news of her pregnancy would positively influence Paul. Maybe she should have taken her friend Serena's advice, which was to consult with Paul. But she did not want him to want the marriage for a baby; she wanted him to want
her
. But her struggle with the decision from that moment on was an indicator of knowing she was not happy with her decision.

Ginger decided she would find Paul and let him know how she felt. But when she got to the room, he was not there. She called him on his cell phone, but it rang in their room; he left it there. She was frustrated, and went to the parking lot to see if the rental car was still there. It wasn't.

Paul had taken his drink and his anger and his pain to the car. He started driving with no destination in mind. He needed to get away, to clear his head, to figure out his feelings. The disappointment in Ginger did not diminish his feelings for her. But it did upset him in a way he could not articulate or even identify. His mind took him to several dark places—Ginger going under the knife to have the abortion; what the child would have looked like; and even his role in her decision. Paul was a mental wreck.

He ended up on in the northern block of Napa's downtown district at 1313 Main, a swanky wine bar that had a warm and inviting feel. That was exactly what he needed.

Paul was lucky to get a small corner table on the lovely patio that was fenced in by lush greenery. After nearly fifteen minutes of contemplation, he ordered a bottle of Caymus 2008 Cabernet Sauvignon. It cost $163. He did not care. He wanted to lose himself in the wine.

He did not bother to ask his server about the wine. He wanted to test his senses. He looked around at the mass of people smiling and enjoying each other and it saddened him. He learned something about his wife that he thought it was best he did not know: That she had the capacity to deceive him.

Never mind that he kept the truth from her about why he lost his job. That did not come into his mind. He could only see what was in front of him, and that was that he had a chance to father a child and Ginger took it from him.

When the wine came, he had to shake himself of his thoughts. The Caymus was a lush wine, rich in color and flavor. He inhaled it deeply to let the aroma rise through his nostrils. He closed his eyes to appreciate it.

He then set it on the table and placed the stem of the glass between his index and third fingers and began slowly swirling it around, to help the wine breathe and to release all of its flavors. After a minute or so of that action, he smelled it again, and this time the aromas seemed to burst into the air, causing a small smile to crease his face.

He was having the best time—and he hadn't even tasted the wine yet.

He swirled it some more and finally, deliberately moved the glass toward his mouth. It was a delicate and careful maneuver,
as if he were placing one of Ginger's breasts in his mouth. When he finally creased his lips to place the rim of the glass between them, he took in another deep smell of the wine, and he was almost mesmerized by it.

The wine funneled into his mouth and he let it wade there so his tongue could consume it all. He detected a complex mix of dark fruit, blackberry and plum with a hint of licorice and spices. It was a full-bodied wine, one that had a strong finish but no aftertaste.

Paul was in love.

It was the best wine he had ever consumed, and he treated it as such, pampering it and seducing it as he ingested it. It was so good and fulfilling that for a time, he did not even think about Ginger and the mess he considered his life to be.

By the fourth glass, he was officially on buzz—and the reality of his life came back to him. He wished Ginger had kept that secret to herself. Knowing it confused him. Part of him despised that she made such a major decision without his input; another part of him admired her honesty. Those conflicting emotions and the wine clashed to make his head spin.

One moment he thought of calling her to talk it out, but it was then that he realized he left his cell phone in the room. The next moment he actually pondered getting a hotel room and staying away for the night as a way of clearing his head. The truth was that it would be a way of punishing her, and, as mad and disappointed as he was, he couldn't bring himself to torture his wife.

As he finished the last glass, he wondered what Ginger was doing, how she was feeling about him not being accessible. He was always in reach of her. To be as disconnected as he was at this time with the issue hanging over them had to be driving her crazy, he thought. And he did gain a little pleasure out of that,
but not so much that he would allow it to linger much longer.

He enjoyed the last sip, paid for the bottle with his debit card and headed to the car to go back to the hotel and face the issue that was impossible to ignore and likely would take quite a while to overcome. Before leaving, his server asked if he would like a glass of water; he could sense Paul's equilibrium was off.

“I can't put water on top of a wine like that,” Paul said. “Thank you, though.”

And he made his way to the rental car and started back to the hotel, well enough, considering his thoughts were all over the place and that he was drunk. He did not know if he could ever forgive Ginger for aborting his child, and that scared him because he loved her. He was anxious to talk it out with her to see if he could arrive at a different emotion.

However, when he reached the second light on Main Street, he stopped in the middle of the intersection. He was not sure why. He thought the light turned red and that he actually stopped at the proper place. He also thought he heard sirens, so he stopped in adherence of the emergency vehicle.

But he was certain there were police lights behind his car a few seconds after he stopped. He looked into his rearview mirror and said, “Damn.”

“Pull your vehicle out of the intersection,” the officer said through his loudspeaker.

Paul did as instructed, but he knew a bottle of wine—not to mention what he consumed at the hotel—probably took him over the legal limit for alcohol consumption while driving. He did not want a DUI. Worse, he did not want to go to jail.

So, before the officer reached the car, Paul closed his eyes to gather his balance. “You can do this,” he said.