The Glass of Chardonnay

She tossed her head back with laughter, her hair flipping off her soulders only to float softly back to place like a duck filled with helium being thrown from a jetliner slowly caosting back to the oceans from whence it came.

I knew now she certianly enjoyed my company. Heck, I'd been saving this humorous anecdote -- the one where the camp counselor called my boss's office to inform him his child had died when it was actually my son who had drown in that canoeing accident -- all night; if it hadn't gone over well, I'd be very hard up for conversation. So finally I let my guard down and comfortably moved into my "B" material: primarily consisting of my hatred of Eskimos, American Indians, you know, native North American races. Wait 'til she hears of my distrust of the Aztecs!

She smiled, her lips tightly grabbing at their center, but soon they would be grabbing at my penis, I said aloud.

Her interest in me waned. I should really get back to serving the other customers, she said something to the effect of.

"Oh them," I laughed. "Have another glass of Chardonnay."

We both glanced around: there were no other customers. Caught in her lie, and clearly a tad bit of a lush, she took a seat and I poured her a glass.

She sighed, "This job is not for me."

"Why not just finish your engineering PhD?" I inquired. "I don't know why they kicked you out of Brown to begin with. Throwing paint on a panda, everyone's thought of it."

"I hate China. Communist bastards," she scowled.

But there was silence... And then I swear I saw her cry.

When I was a child, I used to wait for the bus by an old wooden fence that was tilted at a very precarious angle, probably having been hit by a car in accident at some point within the previous few years. For a child, it made quiet a wonderful nook that could shelter me from the rain, if need be, after Mother had dropped me from her car. But when the wind whipped up, even just a little, those devious raindrops would be slung in on an angle pelting me mercilessly. As I watched Kerrisa's tears fall, I recalled that little nook, and I felt every tear that wet her cheek with the same sting I felt on my face from those clever little raindrops who realized they could fall without falling directly to the ground.

"When the shuttle returns from orbit, do you think he'll come visit me?"

"Your father's a great guy," I replied with a comforting smile.

But she wasn't so sure. She stood. "Well, now I guess I really should get back to the other customers."

Sure enough, a blind woman had entered with her seeing eye dog (who oddly resembled Jesus) and Miami Dolphins now second-string running back Ronnie Brown.

I called after her: "You forgot your glass of Chardonnay!"

Oh that sweet laugh as she said, "You realize that's a Pinot Noir. It's red for God's sake!"

And as she walked out of my life, I stared at that glass of Chardonnay.

And it was. It was red.