build me up. (ON HOLD)

TWO

chapter two.
blackberry wine
september 5th

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MY BRAIN couldn't process his name for a second.

He has the same name as my childhood friend, but there was no way in hell he just magically appeared after years of not seeing or hearing from him.

Should I feign ignorance or ask for his last name?

Either way, that lingering thought wouldn't leave until he verified my thoughts. I'll handle this the best way I know how; I was going to do this through a process of elimination.

"Oh! Nice to meet you, Peter. Are you from Huntsville, or," I trailed off.

I was pretty good with conversations. Admittedly, at times, I'd stutter over my words or my thoughts wouldn't come out coherently, but I always managed to make it work. I took the small seconds I had to look more at his face, and the closer I looked, the more it looked like...

"No, actually,"

Well, maybe he could be. Maybe he-

"I moved around my whole life; I'm a military kid,"

That answered my question pretty quickly.

The anxiousness I had felt at that moment dissipated. Peter wasn't a military kid, unfortunately, but his parents did travel frequently from what I remember, especially to Korea where his mom was from, and Poland where his dad was from. I may have only seen this guy around campus while walking around, which gave me that sense of familiarity.

Though dejected, I understood that some people simply never enter your life again and that the best thing to do is to let them go.

"Where are you-"

"Okay, everyone, it's now time to..."

___________

During the exam, I couldn't help but steal glances at Peter. He was truly a gorgeous man.

When we were all called in to take our exams, we all stood up to enter the room. He was tall, almost unnaturally tall (at least to me he was). His shoulders were broad, and his waist was slim. His legs were long but muscular from the outline of his joggers. He was your stereotypical Wattpad character but in real life.

To my dread, I wasn't able to let go of the thought of him being the Peter from my past. I wanted him to be the love that came back into my life to sweep me off my feet like a fairytale. But unfortunately, it wouldn't happen.

By the time I had finished my exam, Peter had already left, our conversation seemingly hanging in the air, never to be had again. Instead of allowing myself to wallow in my pity, I went on to my next class.

The rest of the day was filled with reviewing chapters and heavy debates that kept me on mt toes. I loved my classes and I loved school, but not the act of doing homework and taking exams. It was hard for me to come to terms with the fact that I loved school; many people would look at me weirdly and find more reasons for me to hate it. However, my college experience has been by far the most exciting journey of my life.

I was now in my car, heading toward the rehab center where my dad was being housed. The last few weeks have been quite tumultuous.

My father's stroke was very severe, to the point that it not only damaged his sight but impacted his cognitive function and his ability to move automatically. It was a large blow to my family as we already struggled financially, and now with him in this state, we have to move and buy new equipment, along with many other costly changes.

I was reeling from the stress it gave while also trying to keep myself together for my classes; it was my last year, and I needed to graduate.

By the time I made it to the rehab center, it was fairly packed, and parking was hazardous. It was a Wednesday after all, and they had a few mid-week events at the mall that was across the street. It was a giant farmers market, housed with a tailgate, and my plans of going home and studying ended with that one sight.

Visiting my dad never got easier. It was quite hard seeing him in that position, sickly and unable to move, but motivated enough to keep trying. His personality was so different these days; it felt like he was a different person each time I saw him.

Regardless of that fact, during the visit, I had texted my friend Noah, asking if she wanted to meet for dinner at the farmers market.

I had known Noah since 9th grade. Her parents are from Kenya and moved to the States right before she was born, and later, when she was around 10 she moved from Chicago to Alabama, a large jump if you ask me.

However, on the first day of classes, we instantly hit it off. We shared some of the same classes and happened to live a few blocks away from each other. From that day, we have always been by each other's side. Even when we argued or made some type of mistake that ended up hurting the other, we always made up and never held it against each other.

With her around, life was bearable.

She was going to meet me soon, and I had decided to take a little stroll before she came. I eventually found myself at a winery truck.

It was a small camper with the words, "Tasting History," on the side of it and painted pastel pink. It had a small little bar that had been unveiled to its wooden interior and a case of wines behind the bar table. I was instantly greeted by an older woman who introduced herself to me as Maria. She had tannish skin and brunette hair. She was rather adorable with her pastel pink button-up shirt and a black bowtie supported around her neck.

As strange as it was for a family-friend tailgate to have a winery, she was both adorable and enjoyed her job. She offered me a free wine tasting with a half-off deal on a bottle of my choosing. Naturally, I showed her my ID, and she got into action.

Maria poured me 4 glasses of slightly sweet wines that I was interested in. As I stood there eager to try my first sip, I heard a familiar voice in the distance.

I briefly looked behind my shoulder and was surprised to see Peter (not by Peter). He and what seemed a few friends had also come to the tailgate. Skittishly, I figured to stay quiet this go-around, not feeling as outgoing and personable, not only that but we had a very brief interaction and I figured it would be weird to say anything.

I turned my head back to the truck and was met with Maria's smile. She handed me a pamphlet with the title of her company name along with a bunch of information about her company.

"Okay darling, the first wine here is our famous blackberry wine,"

Nodding, I pick the glass up, rolling the purplish liquid around the base of it before smelling it. It was sweet but with a hint of bitterness. Taking a healthy sip, my tastebuds were invaded with a multitude of tastes.

"This wine was originally crafted by a slave, who was granted freedom, named Nancy during the late 19th century. She was rumored to be in love with a boy who had briefly visited her plantation, which was up for sale when she was around 9 years old. We have no idea who the boy could have been, but the archives show that an indigenous family by the American name, the Pipers, had stopped through to find land to purchase.

During this time, indigenous folk were being displaced, and maybe a few of them could purchase land by assimilating into society, but unfortunately, they were often faced with unwilling white sellers. We theorize that's why the Pipers were briefly there.

With all this in mind, Nancy worked on the plantation for many years, and during that time, she became the head nanny and eventually began creating wines that she would enter into community contests.

It was said this wine was in honor of her first love who got away and was never to be seen again.

Thus, its bitter yet sweet taste,"

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