The waiter set the bottle down carefully.
Not because it was expensive.
Because my friend ordered it with confidence loud enough for the rest of the table to hear.
He picked the bottle up before the waiter could finish opening it.
Turned the label toward us.
"Small producer."
A nod.
"Only eight hundred cases."
Another nod.
Then the region.
Then the year.
The waiter stood there the entire time holding the cork like nobody had dismissed him yet.
The restaurant was full in the way expensive restaurants usually are.
Low lighting.
Hard chairs.
Everybody talking just slightly too loud.
The kind of place where people straighten their posture when the wine arrives.
Two couples at the table.
One marriage felt easy.
One felt managed.
You can tell sometimes by how people hand each other things.
Menus.
Bread.
Water.
The woman across from me looked at the wine list every time it opened but never touched it herself. Her husband ordered everything without asking what she wanted.
Not aggressively.
Just automatically.
He did it the way people lock their front door without thinking.
The wine came around.
Everybody swirled first.
Tiny pause before drinking.
Like there might be a correct answer hidden in the glass.
My friend took a sip and leaned back.
"That's beautiful."
The waiter smiled immediately.
Small relief.
The table loosened after that.
Conversation restarted.
Somebody started talking about Napa.
Somebody else brought up a promotion at work they pretended not to care about.
One person emptied their glass fast and kept refilling before anyone noticed.
The woman across from me drank slowly all night.
Careful.
Measured.
Then halfway through dinner her husband made a dumb joke about the valet stand outside and she lost it laughing.
Real laughing.
Head back.
Eyes closed.
One hand on the table trying to steady herself.
Nobody talked for a few seconds after because real laughter changes the air in a room.
Her wine sat untouched beside her the entire time.
That's the only part of the bottle I still remember.
Later the waiter came back and asked if we wanted another.
Everybody looked at my friend automatically.
He reached for the wine list again.
The woman across from me looked at him and smiled.
"Can we just get the same one?"
He held the list for another second.
Then closed it.
© Jake Ruse — The No B.S. Wine Letter / Austin Texas Wine Society. All rights reserved.