The following is my entry into this month’s Monthly Wine Writing Challenge #7 (#MWWC7), hosted by last month’s winner, the SAHMmelier. Voting is slated to open tomorrow, so if you like my writing, be sure to head over there and vote!
Valentine’s Day.
And her husband was out of town.
Again.
They had only been together for four years, but he had managed to miss each Valentine’s Day. She was not sure why she was upset, but if once is an accident, twice is coincidence and three times is an enemy action, what is four times?
She got home early from work, changed, and quickly headed right back out. She was devoted to her husband, so once she left the neighborhood, she immediately felt guilty sneaking around on him: She was headed to her secret yearly rendezvous, one she would not, could not break this year.
She had initially met him some time ago, a couple of years before she knew her husband. She walked into a wine shop to buy a bottle of wine to celebrate graduating from law school. He instantly caught her eye, standing guard behind the counter, the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. She knew immediately that she had to “have” him. Back then, she was young, single, and popular, but she was not the type of woman who would spend the night with a total stranger. There was something about him, though, that she found irresistible and before she knew it, they were on their way back to her apartment. Sure, she thought at the time that she might regret it in the morning, but she also knew that she was tired of being paralyzed by her propensity to over-think just about everything in her life.
It was time to be spontaneous.
That first encounter was memorable: romantic, passionate, even magical. By the time she woke in the morning, he was long gone, but she did not mind. She knew that there was no chance for a long-term relationship and waking up to find him gone actually made it much easier. She wrote it off as a typical “one-night-stand.”
The following year, however, she was still single with no serious prospects (it would be another year until she met her husband). On Valentine’s Day, feeling a bit depressed about being alone, she found herself driving to the same wine store where they had met the year before. She had no idea if he would still be there, but she had a strange feeling that he would. As she approached the door to the shop, she paused, wondering if she should go through with it. She had never told anyone about the previous encounter, mostly because it was so out of character for her that no one would have believed her.
Standing there outside the door, she decided that she had to go in–she wanted to experience that same excitement from the year before. She needed to break away, if even for a night, from her normal, predictable life. So she nervously opened the door.
She tried to be cool (although she really had no idea how), she tried to act indifferent, and she tried not to look at the counter right away.
Fail.
Fail.
And fail.
There he was right behind the counter as she remembered first seeing him, as gorgeous as ever. And she was giddy. The rest of the night was almost a carbon copy of the year before: a passionate night and his being gone in the morning.
Perfect.
Even though she met her husband shortly after this second rendezvous, she maintained her secret Valentine’s Day affair each and every year. She did feel guilty, but she justified her actions by the fact that her husband continued to be gone every Valentine’s Day and, after all, it was only for one night.
This year was going to be no different: She knew she was taking a risk. She knew that her husband could find out. She knew that her nosy neighbors might see her bring him home, but she did not care. Yes, she was devoted to her husband, but she had become devoted to this secret man in her life, albeit in a different way.
Shortly after they got to the house, they sat down on the couch, and after removing his hat, she put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him toward her. She instantly became lost in him–he had an effect on her that was difficult to describe. There was a certain sparkle that was clear and vibrant.
A moment later, she heard the front door open.
“I thought I would surprise you and come back for Valentine’s Day!” her husband declared from the foyer.
There was no way to hide her secret love now. Her husband would be in the living room in an instant and she would be exposed. Knowing that the “gig was up” she decided that she would take a different, somewhat risky tact as he entered the room:
“Hi honey, do you want to join us?”
“Us?!?”
“Yes, me and my….
Dom Pérignon….”
the drunken cyclist 
If you’d written that in the first person or a male third person, I would have argued it would be too autobiographical….but that way: genius. 🙂
LikeLike
No, not a stitch of autobiography in this one, nor biography concerning my wife (at least as far as I know!)….
LikeLike
I really enjoyed reading this – my vote is yours!
LikeLike
Thanks so much Laura–glad you liked it!
LikeLike
how do i officially enter my entry?
LikeLike
Just put #MWWC7 in your post somewhere and include a link to the SAHMmelier’s website somewhere in the post. I will also re-blog it onto MWWCBlog.wordpress.com and make sure that you get entered.
LikeLike
I posted it here and put that tag in there. here’s the link, and thanks!
LikeLike
Thanks! Will do. Posting shortly.
LikeLike
Great! Looking forward to it!
LikeLike
haha totally got me!
LikeLike
LikeLike
Well that was a story with a twist! And lots of bubbles:)
LikeLike
I have been trying to branch out a bit….
LikeLike
Who knew that there could be “devotion” with Champagne. Great entry.
LikeLike
Thanks John!
LikeLike
Fantastic! I knew there’d be a twist, but I did not see that coming. Well done, sir!
LikeLike
Why thank you….
LikeLike
Reblogged this on mwwcblog.
LikeLike
Thanks for the reblog–you must be one cool dude…
LikeLike
Pingback: Monthly Wine Writing Challenge #7 – Devotion: The Politics of Wine | The Food and Wine Hedonist
Luv it! I have an occasionally salacious fling with this widow named Cliquot, But your protagonist going for a blind monk – that’s kinky…
LikeLike
Yeah, I envisioned her as a bit of a repressed Catholic….
LikeLike
Pingback: One Devoted Group | SAHMmelier
Perfect twist.
LikeLike
Thanks Sally!
LikeLike
Very fun. Although I guessed from the “dark” descriptor that it would be a Petit Sirah. Love it.
LikeLike
Yeah, I was thinking of the bottle there, pretty dark….
LikeLike
Way corny, but I love it!
LikeLike
Thanks (I think?)!
LikeLike
That was a compliment. My humor gets lost in these comments. If you met me in person, you’d totally get me. I’m funny. Really. I am.
LikeLike
Ha! I have no doubt–I was just having a little fun with you as well!
LikeLike
I was getting creeped out. Should have expected the twist (but I didn’t. Caught napping).
LikeLike
Yeah, my wife was not real thrilled with it either (and in no way does it represent her in any way), but said she liked it in the end…
LikeLike
I enjoyed it, but I admit I figured out that tall, dark, and handsome was a bottle of some kind. I didn’t expect him to have such a bubble personality (although I should have guessed, knowing your love of champagne).
LikeLike
Ah, alas, as my favorite president once said: “You can fool all the people some of the time and some of the people all the time, but you can not fool all the people all the time.”
LikeLike