Friday, February 26, 2010

Zinfandel

He kept reaching for zinfandel that wasn’t there. These twilight years, these medicated days. He lived in a state-subsidized box, adorned with square window. When Ellen was alive, together they would sit by the window, watch rain hit the glass. She liked to drink zinfandel too, in their lives before, on weekend spring afternoons.

A glass of zinfandel on the ledge, next to the cold window. On the nightstand, near the TV Guide, pill bottles, pictures of Ellen. But that drink was a phantom. His brain fired that same impulse; it would not go away.

He resisted telling the nurses his condition, fearing their voices changing to high-pitched tones suitable for children. More medications, new diagnoses of mental deterioration. Murray down the hall, a widower for a decade, often had contraband Coors. He’d sneak in, pockets stashed with cans. They’d talk: old baseball games, shared acquaintances, restaurants and cinemas long gone.

Beer wasn’t the same as zinfandel: it brought back memories of lonely nights in smoky bars, years before Ellen. He’d arrive home, collapse in bed, reach for Ellen, who for him didn’t exist yet. Now some mornings he’d wake and feel drunk, even though he was sober.

On the best days, there would be Ellen, sitting at the bed’s edge, smiling, holding a glass of zinfandel.

19 comments:

  1. Really great writing here Christian. Tight, but great detail, great pacing. Wonderful read.

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  2. This is a good one, babe. Your discipline inspires me.

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  3. And what better medication for these twilight years? Zinfandel and Ellen - a powerful prescription to keep decay at bay. A beautiful sketch in a tight space here, Christian.
    Simon.

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  4. What I love about this tiny, powerful piece is that not only do I know the narrator from the reading, but also Ellen. Pitch perfect. Peace, Linda

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  5. Yeah great work - that last line... imagine that!

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  6. How lovely.
    The high pitched noises reserved for children, reaching for an Ellen that doesn't exist yet...

    Wonderful stuff.

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  7. Really enjoy this one, Christian. As I near 40, I'm making the move from beer to wine. I still like beer, but at night it's more relaxing to have a glass of white wine. Beer also reminds me of bars, of that hunt for something more than what I had.

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  8. Great short - phantom zinfandel.
    I felt for him, understand the reluctance to tell the nurses. You made me feel for this guy in such a short space.

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  9. very well written. gave a fantastic characterization and allowed connection in just a snippet. i very much enjoyed this.

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  10. Just had a glass or two (OK, I actually had three) of Zinfandel just the other night. What a sad, lonely story. Wonderful job capturing so many emotions with saying so little. Very Hemingwayesque, in its own way.

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  11. Wonderful details and hints of character. There is so much said about the narrator and about Ellen in this tiny piece. Letter perfect.

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  12. This is wonderful. Poignant, full of emotion. I hope his imaginary wine stays firmly on the window ledge.

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  13. Beautiful and sad. Really well done!

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  14. I know it's all made up 'n all, but I can't help but hope the guy goes out on one of his better days.

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  15. Love the sentence fragments. You're one of my favorites to read. :)

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  16. Beautiful. Memories & present days merging-- seems like a gentle way to walk off into the twilight, holding hands with ghosts. Cheers.

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  17. This is fantastic. Very emotional without going over the top. An absolute pleasure to read!

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  18. Zinfandel... you couldn't have picked a more poetic-sounding wine for this story... and Ellen, as clear and beautiful name as the wine itself. Sometimes I struggle more over the names of the characters than the story itself. It's so important. These two names lent a cool, studied glamour to that point in this old man's life. It is no wonder he prefers these to the more mundane Murray and beer.
    Really enjoyed your story. And god help us that we don't grow old.

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  19. Thanks, everyone, for reading and commenting on this story! I lift up a glass of zinfandel to all!

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