Page 70 of Before We Say Goodbye
“Faith? Far as I know, faith never fermented grape juice. It never built an empire.”
“Without faith, what’s the point in building anything?”
Otis couldn’t answer the question. Now into his sixties, Carmine had perhaps strayed too deeply into the ethereal.
The old man let go of him, and they started strolling again. “You see all this? I didn’t do it. I’m just along for the ride. The best thing is, it all exists without me. I’m simply a passenger. Soon as you realize and accept that, the ride gets so much smoother.”
“I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“The best wines are made when you know enough to control everything but are wise enough to control nothing. Balance comes from guidance of a natural process, not forcing an outcome. Come here.” Carmine lowered to his knees at the base of a vine and wrapped his hands around the trunk. “Down here, Otis. Now.”
Otis reluctantly obeyed.
“Closer, closer, what are you afraid of? Hold the trunk like it’s a ... no, not what you’re thinking. Hold the trunk like it’s the metal rod on a carousel. There you go.”
They sat on their knees, facing each other, the vine between them, their hands wrapped around the trunk.
“You feel that?”
Otis focused on his fingers and felt the tingle, a surge of electricity—a life force—traveling from the vine to him. It had been a long time since he’d connected in such a way.
“This vine and every other vine in this vineyard will go on with or without you. All you can do is arm yourself with faith and hold tight. Let them carry you; letlifecarry you.”
Otis offered a slight nod.
Carmine wrapped his hands around Otis’s. “This spaceship we’re on ... there’s something else steering. It doesn’t need you. You don’t matter.” He laughed to himself. “In not mattering, you will find your reason.”
Carmine retracted his hands, and Otis let go of the trunk.
“The world is sprouting before our eyes, vines growing from the ground, trees, humans, bugs.” He tickled the air with his fingers. “If you fight it, if you for a moment think you have any control over it, you’ll be swallowed whole. Find the balance, Otis. Find that space where you’re a passenger who trusts in where he’s going. We’re so unimportant to this wondrous world ... and yet, vital, but you have to quit white knuckling the wheel. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
“I suppose so.”
Carmine waited till Otis looked at him. “What I’m really saying is ... loosen up. Take it easy on yourself.” He jammed his fingers into the soil and brought up a handful of clay. “No matter what, we all fold back into the earth.”
“Are you saying that you’d compromise everything you’ve worked for to make white zin? That you’d sell yourself to rebuild?”
Carmine’s cheeks swelled with a kind and gentle smile. “I’m glad I’m not faced with the decision, as I’m not sure. But I do know,mio amico, that if you shake off the fear, that if you quit trying to proveyourself and simply climb aboard this ride, the answer will land on you like a butterfly on your shoulder.”
Otis understood what his mentor was saying, but it was too much. He felt far away from faith and connection, so very far from finding his way back.
Though the butterfly did not land, and the bell no longer sounded, Otis returned to the house at 10:00 a.m. every day to play with his boys. In early April, he hiked up the hill eager to join Cam and Mike for an hour of play, only to find several cars in the drive. Paul and Sparrow and Carmine stood from a circle of chairs to say hello. Above their heads hung the bell.
“What’s this?”
Rebecca stood and took his hand. She wore a silk blouse half tucked into jeans. Worry showed in her eyes. “Will you sit down, honey?”
He looked at his friends, then back to Bec. “Where are the boys?”
“With my parents.”
“What is this?”
“We want to talk to you.”
“About?”
“Sit down.”
