Mini Prose: The Prospective Wine

Danilo entertains beautifully. As they say, he makes a great spread. The starters, genuine architectural treasures, combine crudites and home-made sauces. The well-matched courses speak of shrimp, vegetables, roasted pine nuts. Wine never lacks, and Danilo chooses it up to the meal.

We cooperate in the kitchen, open over the garden. The weather is mild. As my husband washes chicory leaves, our host waves a bottle before my eyes. The sun went down since we arrived and I first believe that dusk misleads me. I draw the wine closer to the light emanating from the stove. The label definitely indicates 2028, however it is barely 2024.

“Check this out, Danilo, what a fabulous mistake!”

Surprised, our friend grabs the bottle.

“But you are right! I can't believe it. Four years, that's quite something.”

The label definitely indicates 2019.

I seize the strange bottle and plant a corkscrew in it. What if a spirit surfaced from the dark red liquid? Instead of that, once the cork is extracted from the neck, a subtle aroma frees itself in the room. I pour the drink in our three tumblers. We raise our glasses and clink them.

“To friendship!” says Danilo.

“To life!” says Côme.

“To love,” I finally say.

We drink a sip of the prodigious liquid.

For a few moments, no one says a word. Even though it is in all likelihood a labelling mistake, the improbable is still possible. What will happen? Will the wine flavor be astounding? Will we jump four years forward? I close my eyes and picture several scenarios, while the aroma deploys in my mouth. When I reopen them, will Danilo be accompanied by a significant other? What if I disappeared, and another woman replaced me next to Côme? Or what if, at the contrary, a tiny baby arose out of nowhere, sound asleep in its bassinet?

None of this occurs. We agree that the wine is delectable. Slightly round, maybe. It may not come from the future, but it is no less exceptional. Indeed, it allowed me to realize, beyond all rational debate, that I would like to have a child. Côme will be glad.