Wine, women and song
“You'll do fine, Pauly tell me as his long fingers straighten up the last details of the uniform, he insisted I wear to Ann’s fete. “Just tell them you're headed to Vietnam where your old man died.”
“My father didn't go to Vietnam; my uncle did, and he came
back just fine,” I say although fine is the wrong word.
“They won't know that,” Pauly assures me. “They'll believe what you say because you're in uniform.”
“That doesn't mean they'll sell me wine,” I say. “I'm barely 18.”
“They will. it would be unpatriotic for them not to.”
“I would be lying,” I say as we stand outside the liquor store Pauly had Rob drive me to in order to get the wine he promised the girls he would bring.
This is my third day of a three-day pass and I have to get back to Fort Dix before nightfall, a fact Pauly is aware of and has promised to get Rob to drive me to the bus that will get me back on time if only I do this small favor for him
“It's all about wine women and song,” Pauly says knowing how big a crush I have on Ann and how I would like to impress her as much as he would though what he really wants is the pot she is promised to bring to the luncheon if he also brings some wine.
He pushes me through the door with the tips of his fingers, leaving me alone with the store clerk the moment the door closes, the array of bottles making up spiked walls of glass down each aisle.
A grim Man with gray hair greets me from behind the register, more my grandfather’s age than my uncle’s, asking me how he can help me then frowning when I tell him as if he can guess my age; then asking me what kind of wine I want when I don't know, having never bought wine here or anywhere else before, sipping only what I could steal at Thanksgiving at my grandfather’s house, drinking weak beer they sell on the base.
I can't get the words out about my uncle dying or even about going to a war I'm still not sure they will send me off to and say instead, “I need to impress a girl.”
The old man smiles, a knowing smile, a smile that tells me he once stood where I stood and made the same request I am making and I see the pain deep in his eyes, over someone maybe a son or nephew who did die in war, if not this war then one of the many before that needed young men like me to give up our lives to win.
“I know just what you need,” he tells me and takes me back along the shelves and bottles to where he picks out one for me and when I tell him I don't quite have enough to pay for wine that fine as this one is, his wrinkled fingers takes what I have, puts the bottle in a bag, and presses this into my hands, his eyes so full of pain I ache inside, his smile a smile meant not for me but for someone else, someone who never got to see it or carry a bottle like this to some girl long gone or forgotten.
“Enjoy,” he says as I stumbled back outside to where Rob and Pauly wait, each whooping at my success, Pauly patting me on the shoulder
“I knew you could pull it off, he says.
I only nod.
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“They won't know that,” Pauly assures me. “They'll believe what you say because you're in uniform.”
“That doesn't mean they'll sell me wine,” I say. “I'm barely 18.”
“They will. it would be unpatriotic for them not to.”
“I would be lying,” I say as we stand outside the liquor store Pauly had Rob drive me to in order to get the wine he promised the girls he would bring.
This is my third day of a three-day pass and I have to get back to Fort Dix before nightfall, a fact Pauly is aware of and has promised to get Rob to drive me to the bus that will get me back on time if only I do this small favor for him
“It's all about wine women and song,” Pauly says knowing how big a crush I have on Ann and how I would like to impress her as much as he would though what he really wants is the pot she is promised to bring to the luncheon if he also brings some wine.
He pushes me through the door with the tips of his fingers, leaving me alone with the store clerk the moment the door closes, the array of bottles making up spiked walls of glass down each aisle.
A grim Man with gray hair greets me from behind the register, more my grandfather’s age than my uncle’s, asking me how he can help me then frowning when I tell him as if he can guess my age; then asking me what kind of wine I want when I don't know, having never bought wine here or anywhere else before, sipping only what I could steal at Thanksgiving at my grandfather’s house, drinking weak beer they sell on the base.
I can't get the words out about my uncle dying or even about going to a war I'm still not sure they will send me off to and say instead, “I need to impress a girl.”
The old man smiles, a knowing smile, a smile that tells me he once stood where I stood and made the same request I am making and I see the pain deep in his eyes, over someone maybe a son or nephew who did die in war, if not this war then one of the many before that needed young men like me to give up our lives to win.
“I know just what you need,” he tells me and takes me back along the shelves and bottles to where he picks out one for me and when I tell him I don't quite have enough to pay for wine that fine as this one is, his wrinkled fingers takes what I have, puts the bottle in a bag, and presses this into my hands, his eyes so full of pain I ache inside, his smile a smile meant not for me but for someone else, someone who never got to see it or carry a bottle like this to some girl long gone or forgotten.
“Enjoy,” he says as I stumbled back outside to where Rob and Pauly wait, each whooping at my success, Pauly patting me on the shoulder
“I knew you could pull it off, he says.
I only nod.
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