Clarity 2 (12 page)

“I heard that,” I tell him, “and it’s not funny.”

A feminine hand rests gently on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Winter,” Caroline says in a grave voice. “Owen never has any trouble poking things into the right place.”

I clear my throat.
“I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be reassuring... but thanks.”

Liam laughs.
“Alright, you crazy people. Let’s get back on the road. There’s a party waiting for us.”

As Liam begins to drive away from the antique shop, I cont
inue staring at the ornate mirror in my hand. I can feel the heavy metal object, and I can trace its intricate details, but I can’t even see a speck of light illuminating a single corner. It might as well not exist. What if nothing actually exists, and nothing can actually be seen, and it’s all some elaborate lie everyone has fabricated to torture me? It’s a silly thought, but I often wonder if this darkness is all there really is. Having lived so long with this reality, it’s terrifying to think of how great the change would be. How could I accept and adjust to anything else?

I continue to search the obscured mirror for answers as we drive along. What if when I can finally see a girl staring back at me, I don’t like what I see?
What if she’s just another stranger I wish I could escape?

I gently circle
my wrist as it cradles the wine glass, swirling the liquid around to release its aroma. I inhale deeply, allowing the piquant scent to fill my sinuses.

“There’s no way she can guess this one,”
someone in the room whispers.

“Why not?” says Caroline. “She’s guessed everything so far.”

“But this wine isn’t quite so mainstream. I bet she doesn’t even get the continent right.”

The corner of my lips curl in pleasure at everyone’s whispers. Needless to say, I have been able to impress
Liam’s peers with my vast knowledge of the grape. I have easily beaten out every competitor, which isn’t saying much; forced to drink blindfolded from dark glasses, some of the people at the party have been unable to tell red from white. They have made some ridiculous guesses that have caused me to erupt in laughter.

Now, as the sole victor, everyone is continuing to test me to see how far they can
strain my knowledge before I break. Liam has been standing off to the side and boasting about me, and I must say that it feels good to be the best at something. Due to my genuine love for wine, it is also quite effortless. It is one of my few hobbies and interests that I kept up with even when I was isolated from society. I still took the time to order a good wine now and then. I would frequently browse the award winning wines for various competitions, and have a few of the more affordable selections sent over to my address. I don’t think I could live without the soothing flavors to transport me away on a bad day.

“Well, Winter?” someone prods me. “Are you going to taste it?”

“I bet she has no idea what’s in the glass,” another person says in a snooty tone.

“You’ll bet?” Liam says, and I can hear the sound of him pulling out his wallet. “How much, my friend?
A thousand bucks says she gets it spot on.”

“
Really, Liam? You’re nuts. I don’t have a thousand dollars on me—but sure. If she gets it, I’ll write you a check. If not, you can write me a check.”

“Deal,” Liam says, shaking his colleague’s hand. From what I understand, many of the people at the party are his old college buddies.

“Look at you, Liam,” says a woman’s voice. “Tossing around your wad. I remember when you were in school, you could barely afford a sandwich.”

“That’s because I was saving up
for my down payment, Alyssa,” he tells her.              

“Enough suspense!” declares the party host. “Winter, what’s your verdict?”

I take another deep whiff of the aroma. “It’s red. Vintage. Australia. I’m going to say... South Australia.”

“She hasn’t even tasted it yet!” someone
exclaims in horror.

“Oh, that’s right,” I say as though I have forgotten. “The taste! That will help me narrow it down.” I press my lips against the rim of the glass and tilt it to allow the liquid to seep into my mouth. I swish it around my tongue carefully, allowing the
flavor to dance around my taste buds. “Oh, this is very distinctive. You guys are trying to trip me up by using a very small winery, aren’t you? It’s not going to work. This is from Clare Valley. Specifically, Wakefield Estate.” I take another large sip, but this time, just for enjoyment. “2008, Shiraz.”

“Fuck,” curses the guy who lost his money to Liam.

“Yep. Hand it over, John,” Liam says smugly, clapping his hand on his friend’s back.

I can hear the other man pull out his checkbook and begin writing, while muttering insults.

“It’s not fair to bring a blind girl to a blind tasting, Liam,” says a jealous female spectator in the room.

“Why is it not fair?” he asks innocently. “Do you mean to say that it’s not fair she is
only
limited to blind tastings? That it’s unfair she has never been able to experience the color of various wines? Or to see their stylish bottles and labels?”

“I—I didn’t...”

“Sarah, she has no idea what the colors
red
or
white
even mean. Is that fair to her? Do you think her life is easy? Stop discriminating against the disabled!” Liam is obviously slightly drunk and messing with this woman, and I find it hilarious.

“You’re right,” says the woman meekly. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, wait!” says another person in the room. “It actually might be unfair. Really unfair. I think I recognize this chick.” He comes close to me, and looks into my face. “Aren’t you Helen Winters? Yeah! Her family owns a whole fucking winery!”

“Is that true?”
Owen asks.

“Not exactly,” I say in puzzlement. “We sold it years ago.
We owned a small private vineyard in Northern Michigan. We made a special ice wine that we called The Winter Grape. My sister and I would spend summers there and help with the cultivation. We never really sold the product commercially, though, so I’m surprised you’d know about us.”

“
I knew it! Didn’t your dad purchase a vineyard out in Long Island last year?” a man insists.

“I don’t know,” I say in confusion.
“Maybe.”

“Excuse us for a minute,” Liam tells everyone as he places his hand on my back. “Winter and I are going to step out onto the balcony.”

“Wait!” says another partygoer, shoving a glass into my hands. “Can you tell what this is, Winter?”

I bring it to my nose and sniff it, and immediately make a face of disgust. “Ugh,” I say in displeasure. “You can’t expect me to taste this stuff? Is it even wine?
It smells like rancid nuts.”

Everyone
in the room begins to laugh.

“It looks like we’ve final stumped her,” someone says triumphantly.

“Yes, but this doesn’t count,” another person says. “That wine is sort of a trick question.”

“Give me a second,” I tell them, wrinkling my nose. I gather my courage and toss the wine down my throat. I scrunch up my eyes and try to avoid gagging on the bitter taste.
“That tastes like cat urine,” I declare, causing more laughter from the room. When the laughter calms down, I sip the wine again. “But it’s actually a 2001 Riesling from Southern Ontario. That horrible taste and smell comes from the fact that the region was invaded by Asian ladybugs around that time. It’s a rare wine flaw called ladybug taint. I believe they trashed most of this stuff so it wouldn’t be sold.”

“Damn,” says the party’
s host, and there is a tone of respect in his voice. “She wins. I give up. I can’t stump her.”

“Of course, you can’t,”
Liam says as he guides me away from the crowd. “She’s too damn good.”

I let him lead me out onto the balcony, and I am immediately refreshed by the cool night air.
The party is being hosted in a penthouse apartment, and the wind is rather strong; it tosses my hair around my shoulders a little.

“Here,” Liam says, pushing a plate toward me
that has been sitting out on the patio. “You’re supposed to be eating too. You’ll never get fat enough for the surgery at this rate.”

I feel around on the plate and discover toothpicks shoved into little cubes of cheeses. I pop one in my m
outh to try to overpower the taste of the ladybug-tainted wine. “Mmmm. That’s nice,” I say, taking another piece of cheese.

“You were amazing in there,” Liam tells me. He laughs lightly. “I made a few thousand bucks off betting on you.”

“I noticed that,” I say with a smile. My words feel a bit slow and slurred. “You shamelessly capitalized on my skill—you exploited me for personal gain!”

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says gently. “I don’t mean to keep treating you like a circus animal.”

“Or like you’re my pimp,” I add as I pop a few more pieces of cheese into my mouth.

“It’s an interesting dynamic,” he agrees. “I don’t know why
things seem to go that way. It might be due to the fact that you’re just so good at everything.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I tell him playfully, poking him in the ribs. I suddenly cast my eyes downward. “Liam, this was a lot of fun.
”

“It was,” he agrees. “Plus, I got to learn fun facts about your past. I knew you loved wine, but I had no idea your family used to own a vineyard!”

“You seem to have this weird intuition when it comes to me,” I tell him suspiciously. “I don’t know how you do it, but it’s like you can see into my head. Every activity you choose for us is amazing.”

“I think I’m just getting lucky,”
he admits as he puts aside the empty tray of cheese. “It seems like I’m putting all this effort into choosing events specifically for you—but we might just genuinely like the same things.”

“And maybe I’m just easy to please?” I say in a seductive tone, moving closer to him.

“Maybe,” he says, reaching out to slide his hands around my hips, “but I think I still have a lot to find out about that.” Lowering his lips to mine, he kisses me deeply. His hands slide around my back as he angles his face for better access to my mouth.

His touch makes me feel dizzy. Combined with too many wine tastings, I almost feel like I might fall over. He senses my unsteadiness and pushes me back against the balcony railing. I gasp a little, afraid of the
considerable plunge to dozens of stories below. I cannot see the drop, so I imagine the street to be an enormous distance away—maybe hundreds of miles below. His kiss makes me feel like I am falling even though I am standing still. We must be up in the stratosphere, for I am having difficulty breathing. The air is thin up here. All I can taste is Liam—I seem to be breathing in his skin. The scent of his cologne and the sweetness of his lips make me more light-headed than any wine or drug possibly could. I still feel like I am falling, directly through the atmosphere now. There is a heat blossoming inside me. My heart is pounding fiercely, and I really feel like I might somehow be in outer space. I can no longer feel the familiar tug of gravity weighing me down. I cling to Liam, somewhat terrified of the vast expanse of space below; but I trust that he won’t let me hit the ground. His arms are wrapped tightly around my waist, and they grip me with certainty and protectiveness. I continue to kiss him, allowing my body to melt against his rock-hard frame, holding him desperately for stability. I fear that if I let go, I’ll go hurtling out into some infinite abyss.

“Hey!” says someone stepping out on the balcony. “Liam, isn’t she your patient? What are you doing, bro?”

“Well...” he says nervously, hesitating. His voice sounds faraway and confused. I know that whatever distant place to which my mind had been flung, he was there with me.

“It’s my fault,” I say, trying to gather my composure and pull myself away from Liam. “I’ve had way too much to drink, and I forced myself on him. Just consider him my helpless victim.”

The intruder laughs. “You’re wild, Winter. Come on back inside. We just opened up some more wines I think you’ll love.”

When he disappears, I sigh in relief. “I’m sorry, Liam.”

He pulls me close again and places a few more kisses on my lips. “Worth the risk,” he whispers.

“Come on,” I tell him, grabbing his hand and leading him inside.
“I’m going to tell your friends the story about how I lost my virginity among the grape vines, when I was only twelve years old. To a French kid named Pierre. ”

“Is that true?” Liam asks in shock.