Page 71 of Before We Say Goodbye
Otis reluctantly sat and rested his hands on his knees. How dare they ambush him.
“Honey,” Bec started, “we’re worried about you.”
“Right.” He felt a smirk rise on his face; he was the only one who knew the truth: His hard work was the reason they’d made it this far.
“We’re here because we love you, and we’re here to tell you that you need to slow down.” He could see that she’d been pondering what to say for a long time.
“This again? Shall we double recess time?”
“This isn’t about recess, and I’m sorry if my idea belittled you. Can’t you see that hour of recess is the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”
He didn’t answer, because he would have had to agree, and he didn’t want her to be right.
“We can’t tie you down. All we can do, as the people who love you most in this world, is tell you that we think you’ve lost your way, and we want to help you rediscover it.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Paul spoke up. “We love you so much, Otis, and that’s the only reason we’re here. We’re worried. You’re a tractor running without oil, grinding your gears into oblivion. You freaking punched Lloyd in front of everyone.”
“Because he’s a thief, stealing everything from me. My wife, my vineyard, my kids.”
“We’re still here, Otis,” Bec said calmly. “No one is stealing anything from you. It’s time you take a big step back. No more travel for a while. Period. Our distributors will be fine. The new vines are in the ground and doing well. Reconnect with what got you here. Reconnect with what Carmine and Paul taught you. Find that joy again. Because I don’t see you having fun right now.”
“Oh, I’m having the time of my life.”
Otis looked at Carmine, who rocked silently in his chair. They held eye contact for a while; then he finally spoke. “It’s like we talked about, Otis. The only thing getting in the way of your dreams is you. You’re a passenger trying to take the pilot’s seat.”
“What pilot, Carmine?” Otis asked, unable to stay calm.
Carmine barely moved and kept his voice low. “Maybe we don’t need to know who or what it is, but to make a great wine, to be a great man, requires a certain amount of ...”
“Faith?”
“Or trust. You’ve just lost your way for a while. We’ve all been there.”
Everyone nodded.
“That’s why we’re here,” Sparrow said, “to help you find it again.”
Bec took over. “I think you need to take a step back, Otis. Recharge. Rediscover the young man who I met on the bus, the young man who set his eyes on vines for the first time.”
“I’ve heard all this before,” Otis said, seeing too much red to hear exactly what they were saying.
The conversation kept going, all of them taking their turns, Otis folding in on himself with each word.
After they’d left, Otis said to Bec, “I’ve gotta go for a little while. I’ll be back. I need some time.”
Tears puddled in her eyes.
“I’ll be back, I just ... I need some ... time.” He wanted to thank her, but he couldn’t. What she couldn’t see was that nothing anyone said could help him now.
After four days of hiding out at a hotel overlooking the Pacific while pondering the death of terroir and his own ego, Otis came home and found Rebecca and the boys at the table, eating dinner. Simon and Garfunkel played on the record player. The wordDaddysprang from his sons’ mouths. Rebecca stood and went to him as if he were actually a good man. She wrapped her arms around him.
“I hear you,” he said. “You’re right. About all of it. I’m going to try. Harder than ever before.”
Her deep breath sounded of relief.
“We can make white zin this year.”
