Page 112 of Wild Abandon

I earned my keep by working at the vineyard. I quit my other jobs and devoted myself full-time to Ed. He didn’t like having me around, but I slowly wore him down.

I would be up earlier than everyone else, and I’d stay out in the field later than I had to. I’d cook supper most nights because I genuinely enjoyed cooking for people. When repairs were needed around the ranch, I’d use the skills I’d learned from construction to fix them, and when barrels needed to be moved, I was pretty good at lifting them without the use of machinery. All those years of being a box boy were paying off.

What I didn’t know how to be was a husband or a son.

Those were shown to me.

Ellie and I had enough love to get us by. It was the trivial stuff we had to learn. She called me controlling when I wouldn’t let her go on spring break with her friends. I called her irresponsible when she’d spent my paycheck on a new car we couldn’t afford. Yes, her parents had money, but I was the one supporting her. I was the man.

Rosemary guided us, showing us how to nurture each other’s passions and to never give up, even when the days were dark and the hours sad. Ed taught us marriage was hard work and how to provide for each other in the good and bad times.

When I wasn’t learning how to be a man, I was learning how to be a winemaker. Ed taught me everything he knew from cross-breeding vines to picking the best grape. Everything was done by hand. It was salt-of-the-earth work, and I loved it.

We made wine, and we sold a ton of it. Russet Ranch was a profitable business, and together, we created our own reserve—Ellie Creek. That was my favorite.

When I’d made my first few dollars, I mailed cash back to the bar owner in Boston who had provided me my plane ticket to salvation even if he didn’t know I’d stolen it.

As much as I loved the ranch, Ellie wanted to live in the city. She wanted to open a dance studio and couldn’t in the valley. On our fifth wedding anniversary, Ed and Rosemary bought Ellie her dance studio and the two of us a condo in San Francisco, free and clear. I hadn’t realized until then just how profitable the ranch was.

It was a long commute for me to go to Russet Ranch every day, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. We were happy for a while, but Ellie wanted me around more. She didn’t understand why I loved the ranch so much. She wanted me to open a wine bar in San Francisco. I contemplated it, but then Rosemary got sick. I put in more time at the ranch while Ed took care of her.

When she died, Ellie was devastated. She said me being home more in San Francisco would help her get through the pain of losing her mother. I couldn’t leave Ed. He tried to fall apart, but I wouldn’t let him. Every morning, I would get him up and in the field. I tended to Rosemary’s garden and placed the roses around the ranch.

After a few months, the old Ed was back.

The new Ellie was, too. She wanted me in San Francisco. Pushed for me to open a bar. Begged was more like it. I kept on promising I would, but I put it off.

And then Ellie had a stroke.

Twenty-seven fucking years old, and her entire life was over.

I lost Ellie. I lost Ed. I lost Russet Ranch.

I used to be a dreamer. I used to think good things were bound to happen. I used to think hard work meant a great reward. I used to believe in magic roses.

And then reality struck.

For four years, I wandered aimlessly, back to the twenty-year-old kid trying to find a home.

I wanted to take Ellie home, care for her myself, but the social workers urged me to put her in a proper facility that could care for her. Ellie went into a long-term care facility. My condo was paid off, so I spent every penny I made on her hospital bills.

Three days a week, I’d sit with my wife. Some days, I’d stare out the window. Most days, I’d read to her. When trying to talk to Ellie, who couldn’t speak and didn’t even know I was there, I found the best thing to do was to read to her. So, that was what I did. There was no genre I wouldn’t read to her. No story too romantic, no tale too sad. I thought she liked the murder mysteries the most.

I lost the few friends I had. No one wanted to hang out with a pissed off guy all the time. Even if he was hurting on the inside.

Ellie was the only person I spent time with. I couldn’t talk to Ed. Not like we used to. He hated me. Blamed me. I couldn’t blame him. I blamed myself, too.

I was a selfish bastard. I should have been with Ellie. I should have loved her enough to be there for her. Instead, I’d left her alone.

Working at Henley’s Pub has been a relief of sorts. I have a place upstairs with a bed I’m not afraid to sleep in. I am free to see Ellie on my assigned days, and I make enough to pay her medical bills. I want Ellie to have the best. I need her to live, so I can read to her and touch her palm and kiss her cheek. I would give my life for her to have hers back.

But life doesn’t work that way, does it?

No. Instead, Ellie is lying in a bed.

It’s Ed’s day. He brings her flowers and sits by her side. I always leave a bookmark in the novel I’ve been reading to Ellie. Sometimes, I come back and see the bookmark has moved forward. Those must be the days when Ed needs something to do. I like the idea of us reading to her together. Makes me feel like we’re a family again. The only family I’ve ever known.

Is this enough of a sad sack story for you? Sorry, but I seem to be living in my own head a lot. Willie Mays is a good listener, but I can’t bring him down to Henley’s even if I am the temporary owner.