Page 10 of Que Será, Syrah

“Hey! Um…why don’t you come out of the water before you fall?” I suggested, feeling a little worried as I suddenly remembered that a girl had drowned a few years ago, not that far from here, at a similar party.

Her eyes met mine. “Why don’t you come in the water,” she challenged. “We can fall together.”

Yeah, that wasn’t happening. I glanced around and noticed that there was a grass-covered berm a few feet back from the riverbank. I hitched myself up to sit on it and counteroffered, “I think if either of us is gonna fall, we should do it here. It’s softer. Come and check it out.”

She studied me for a moment. Then she sighed and began picking her way over and around the rocks that lay beneath the water. She’s like Venus, I thought, when she finally emerged, barefoot and smiling triumphantly.

She bent to scoop up a pair of sandals, then came and seated herself beside me. For a moment she gazed into the distance, her lower lip protruding in a small pout that I found fascinating. “I really wanted to dance tonight,” she said, at last. “But I guess no one else wants to, after all.”

She sounded sad, and I wanted to rectify that. I’d opened my mouth to tell her that people were dancing. That, if she just followed the path back to where I’d come from, she’d see them for herself. But selfishly, I didn’t. I wanted her to stay here with me, rather than seek out better company elsewhere. “It’s good music,” I said instead. “I can see why you’d want to dance to it.”

“Yep,” she replied, popping the p in a way that suggested I’d hit upon another sore point. “It is.”

“Where’s it coming from—do you know?”

“Mm-hm. Sure do.”

Okay then. Clearly there was a story there as well. “So, what’s your name?” I asked, in an effort to change the subject.

“Legs,” she answered, which of course prompted me to look at hers.

“Ah. Okay. I can see why that’d be the case, as well.”

“What? Oh. No. Not those,” she held up the bottle and waved it in the air. “Legs like these.”

“Huh?” I looked at her blankly. She gazed back at me expectantly.

When it became clear I had no idea what she was talking about, she glanced at the bottle, as though to double-check that it was still there. “Oh,” she said, sounding slightly startled. “I guess you really can’t see them through the glass, can you? Okay, never mind.”

She lifted the bottle to her lips once again, and my gaze got caught on the way her lips pursed around the glass, the way her throat moved as she swallowed. “What are you drinking?” I couldn’t help asking.

“Wine,” she replied, frowning at me, as though I’d asked a trick question.

“Yeah, I know. I meant what kind?”

“Gooood wine,” she drawled, drawing the first word out provocatively. Then her expression changed and giggling slightly, she began to sing.

I recognized the melody right off. It’s an old song about a kid at camp writing letters to his parents at home. I vaguely recalled hearing it back when I was a kid myself, probably part of some cartoon. But the words she sang were new to me…

“Is it Sauterne? Is it Riesling? Sauvi-B can be so pleasing. Is it special, for entertaining? Or just a wine to drink whenever it’s not raining?”

“What?”

“Because it doesn’t rain much here—get it? So, it’s an everyday wine.”

“Yeah, but?—”

“Shh, there’s more.” Clasping a hand to her chest and shaking the bottle dramatically, she launched into the chorus. “Decant me, I hate my bottle. Can’t you see? I taste like rubble. Let me breathe before you try to share me with your friends and family.”

“Ah. That’s the wine talking,” I joked, earning myself an approving smile.

“Very good,” she said as she angled her body to face me, singing the next chorus while gazing deep into my eyes. “Is it Malbec? Or a Cab-Franc? Is it juicy, with a good rank? Do I need to keep explaining? If you decant your wine your guests won’t be complaining.”

“Who’s complaining?” I asked, a little breathlessly. I’d gotten caught in her gaze. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her. I wanted to fall back into the grass with her and touch her everywhere. But I also wanted her to keep looking at me the way she was doing, with that smile, and those eyes…

“No one is,” she answered. “That’s just the way the song goes.”

I found myself lost in confusion. “Huh?”

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