Page 33 of Grape Juice
She grins, holds her own ear to her glass, and giggles. “Sounds like first footsteps on fresh ice. That crackling.”
“Ooh, that’s a good one, I definitely hear it.”
“What is wrong with you two?” Pietro guffaws, astonished at the sight of us, contorting ourselves over our glassrims so as to listen without spilling the wine. “Are you drinking through your ears?”
“In a way,” I say with a smirk.
“Oh, go on. Try it.” Ruby flicks a wrist without moving her head.
One by one, the men obey, twisting themselves into serpentine postures for the sake of our experiment. We look like something Dalí might paint, too absurd to exist within the real world.
“Like techno, of course.” Pietro is the first to answer.
“Like bubbles. They sound like bubbles,” Julian mutters, deadpan.
“Like a million voices colliding in a bar,” Henri says, his voice low. “Adin.”
I flash him a look, and for a moment, it feels like something has slid back into place. Like whatever complication that exists between us is a feeble thing.
We all pause and listen to the human noise of the party lap against the shed—a sound not unlike Champagne.
“Well then, I propose a toast!” Ruby looks around, shiny-eyed. “In fact, I propose thateachof us propose a toast.” She picks up a small pebble, stands, and clinks it against her glass. I shift expectantly to face her. “You lot are a stone-cold pack of absolute nutjobs, and I adore you so very much. Julian, you’re so goddamn German. Pietro, you are a little beacon of joy. Henri, you’re an immaculate listener. Alice... God, I love your brain. I feel endlessly grateful for our strange, misshapen little family. So,santé!” She raises her glass, and we all do the same.
She plops down beside me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, and I nestle my head into her neck. “Love you heaps, honeybee,” I whisper in the most exaggerated faux-Australian accent I can muster, and she cackles in response. Below us, the raucous rumble of the party tugs gently like an undercurrent.
“Who’s next?” Ruby challenges.
“I’ll go.” Julian uncrosses his legs to stand, and as soon as he’s on his feet, he begins to pace, taking his brief role as master of ceremonies predictably seriously. “So... I’m not one for sentimentality.” He roots himself in place like he’s located his narrative entry point. “But I... I will admit... I feel very sad to be leaving you all. I didn’t come here to make friends, and in spite of my best efforts, it was impossible not to. So yeah... can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s true: Iamgoing to miss you all.”
“Here, here!” Ruby cries out, visibly rapturous with glee at the breach in Julian’s stoicism. We raise our glasses while Julian returns to his seat and Henri, beside him, ruffles his hair boyishly.
“Me next! Me next!” Pietro calls out. He’s lying on his side with his head propped up on his hand as if posing for a portrait, and from this position, he raises his glass. “I would kiss you all on the mouth right now, but I think Julian would kill me.” Ruby puckers in his direction and he winks back at her. “Ilooooveyou all so much. You will come to Milan, every one of you, and you will stay in my home, and we will party all night, all day. But always, when you come to Italy, my home is your home.Si?”
He raises his glass, Ruby mimics his posture of repose, and I throw my head back gleefully.
“Et moi?” Henri interjects, rising to stand. He assesses each person in front of him individually before lingering, with unwavering focus, on me. “Well, to start, I should probably mention that I just broke up with my girlfriend. And it’s no coincidence that I’m doing it now.” He pauses and looks down at his feet. Ruby elbows me in the ribs, and I chew on my lower lip. Perhaps it was my conversation with Emma, perhaps it’s the Champagne, but this time, the second time, hearing Henri share this news makes me feel light. Giddy, even.
“Obviously, there are some anxieties. But I... I feel really good about making big life choices. And changes.” He raises his head again, looking off at some unnameable point in the distance. “So, I guess I wanted to tell you all thank you. You’re bizarre, and fearless, and a nice reminder that the world is so much bigger than the one I’ve felt so trapped inside of for the last few years. I’m, uh, I’m grateful. And I’m hopeful. So, yeah, thank you. Also... thanks.” He returns to his seat on the ground abruptly, as if disinterested in the reception.
“Cheers tothat!” Pietro coos. “Free man, single Henri, watch out France!” Everyone laughs, myself included, and a smile erupts across Henri’s face. Some of the tension goes from his shoulders like I’m seeing his ligaments loosening in real time.
“New York, it’s your turn.” Henri’s voice is so low, it’s nearly a whisper.
I nod. “I’m not going to stand, OK?” My knees are tucked to my chest, my chin propped on top of them, my arms wrapped around my shins like some kind of armor.
“Lazy, much?” Julian taunts.
“Shut it,” Ruby shoots back, shoving his arm and spilling a splash of wine over his hand.
“You all make for a good metaphor,” I start, beaming my gratitude at Ruby. “For the most part, I fell in love with all of you shielded by the vines.” Ruby squeezes my knee encouragingly. “I’m not quite as stoney as Julian, but Iamprotected. I don’t share much, don’t lay much out on the line. But here, something about you guys, or about this place, or about the land... I don’t know. It unstuck whatever was so guarded in me. At least for a little bit. So, thanks for reminding me about awe. And about honesty. And for correcting my French. I’m... I’m not ready for this thing to be done. It feels like we’ve been buildingtowardsomething, and what a shame to dismantle it just because we’ve run out of grapes.” I can feel my eyes tearing. “Lucky to be here, lucky to know you.”
I release one arm from around my knees and raise my glass. For the last time, the group mimics the gesture. Ruby wraps her arms around me and kisses me on the forehead tenderly. “Me too!” Pietro cries, catapulting toward us and encircling us both in his arms.
“OK,fine.” Julian sighs and shuffles over to join. “Henri, hurry up.”
He does, and for a moment that is both too long andtoo short, we stay like that, this cocoon of too-new and too-familiar bodies.
“This is what bubbles sound like,” I whisper, and everyone leans in closer, squeezes tighter, holds harder.
