Wine Tasting

It was a night like a Tuesday night and the store was empty and full of glinting purple and yellow light.

"I'm not." Maggiano said.

"Yes you are." the man said. “It’s late and I appreciate it.”

"You shouldn’t. Believe me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t mean to drive you away,” Maggiano said quickly. “Thank you for saying I'm kind. Normally I'm very hospitable. On most days I could give you the histories of the finest wines and the less fine wines and make you buy more wine and spend more money than you’d like to. Here try this one.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s a white from Chile.”

“Sounds good.” The man emptied the glass. “It’s good. My, that is good. It’s good and interesting.”

“Sometimes the people like it.”

“Any awards?”

“No.”

“What does that say there? I can’t read Spanish. ”

“I don’t read Spanish either, but I know this wine does not have any awards.”

“How much?”

“Fifteen dollars.”

“That’s not bad at all.”

“You like it then, and you would like a bottle?”

“Sure, why not?”

“There’s much better for the same price. And much more expensive too."

“May I try something else then. Maybe a few of those?”

“I'm afraid not,” Maggiano said. “Tonight I have no interest in explaining to you what you are tasting. And the ones I might have you try aren’t open.”

“What the hell. I’ll take two bottles of this.”

“You’re in a hurry.”

“Not particularly. Just doing a little shopping. I’m having company over tonight and I would like to have something to drink and to talk about. If you could tell me a little more about this Chilean, I would appreciate it.”

“Can you count?”

The man leaned forward.

“Yes, of course. What are you asking?”

“See, it says 2010. That means it’s three years old. Three years is not a very long time, but it's not very short.” The man was beginning to smile. “It's from Chile,” Maggiano said, “but you already know that. Don't you already know that? Don’t people know where things come from just by looking?"

The man looked at his watch.

"I suppose nothing is simple for you wine people.”

"Maybe they could be." Maggiano tipped the bottle toward the man’s glass. The clear yellow liquid spilled from the neck. "Drink that. I'll go fetch you a bottle. No. Two bottles." The man stood impatiently not drinking the wine. “Then you’ll be on your way.”

The day prior, Maggiano’s wine store had been robbed by two young men, neither of whom had any patience, and one of whom had held a gun at Maggiano’s head.