Strawberry Wine
by: Sarah
(c) 2002

He was working through college on my grandpa's farm
I was thirsting for knowledge and he had a car

The day I met him for the first time will live forever in my memories. It was hot. Extremely hot for the first week of June. It was 1991; I had just graduated from high school and decided to spend the summer visiting my grandparent’s in North Carolina. I loved it there. Everything was always so beautiful. And the slow-moving days on the farm were definitely a welcome change from the fast pace that I had grown accustomed to back home in Detroit.

I hadn’t been on the farm and unpacked for more than a few hours when I saw him. He was working out in the fields, a bandanna wrapped around his forehead, sweat glistening off his bare chest. Well, at least now I knew who that beat-up Chevy truck in the driveway belonged to. My grandma caught me staring at him through the window and laughed.

"Why don’t you go on out and get some fresh air?" she recommended, a knowing smile on her lips. "We’ve still got a few hours before supper."

I nodded, my mouth dry, and left the kitchen. I wandered outside slowly, hesitantly, just enjoying the view. The golden sun sat high in the brilliant blue sky. Everything around me was so colorful. So very different from the big city, which had always seemed a little gray to me.

Without realizing it, I had begun to stare. And when I say stare, I don’t mean at the beautiful scenery. I felt my pale cheeks turn a flaming shade of red as his deep chocolate eyes met my soft blue ones. I swallowed hard.

"Hey," he called out to me, stopping his work just momentarily and taking a long, slow drink of water from the jug at his feet.

"Hi," I called back, my voice sounding completely unfamiliar to me. He didn’t have a southern accent, so I knew he wasn’t from around the farm. My interest was immediately peeked. I wanted to know more about this absolutely gorgeous boy standing in front of me.

"Christopher," I heard my grandfather’s stern southern drawl from somewhere behind me. "This is my granddaughter, Stacy Marie. She’ll be staying with us this summer."

I turned around and greeted my grandpa with a smile. Despite his gruff voice there was a twinkle in his eye.

"Stacy, this is Christopher. I’ve hired him on for the next few months. He’s going to college in Florida and his grandmother is an old friend of mine. He’s a hard worker. I trust that you’ll stay out of his way."

"Of course," I replied immediately. But I had absolutely no intentions of staying out of Chris’ way. And I think my grandpa knew it.

"Supper is in two hours, Chris. You should be stopping soon so you can get ready."

"Yes sir," he responded, looking very serious. "Don’t worry, I won’t be late."

As my grandfather sauntered off I turned back to Chris. "Nice to meet you."

Much to my surprise he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips. "The pleasure is all mine. I look forward to sharing the summer with you. I think I’m living just down the hall from you, actually."

My mouth dropped open in shock and try as I might, I couldn’t get it to close again. He was staying in my grandparent’s house? Thoughts raced through my mind that, prior to that moment, I hadn’t been aware I was able to conjure up. My skin boiled underneath the soft and billowing sundress I was wearing. He just smiled. A perfect, sweet, completely unnerving smile.

Seeing that smile for the first time, that’s when I knew. I was falling for this dark eyed, dark haired stranger from Florida. I was falling hard.

I was caught somewhere between a woman and a child
When one restless summer we found love growing wild
On the banks of the river on a well beaten path
It's funny how those memories they last

The next month seemed to fly by. And unless Chris was working out in the fields; which he was, a lot; we were basically inseparable. My grandparents quickly realized that it was pointless to argue with me about it. I didn’t care that he was 21. He didn’t care that I was 17. I felt mostly grown up, anyway, so why should it matter?

I say mostly because the time that I spent with Chris made me realize how much I had to learn. I wasn’t exactly a sheltered child, but I certainly wasn’t all that experienced either. Chris’ slight maturity only made me love him more. I wanted him to teach me all that he knew. I wanted to soak up all that he could give me. But mostly, I just wanted him to sing to me.

Chris had the most amazing voice. And I lived for the evenings when we would sit on the old porch swing and he would play for me on his guitar and sing whatever came to his mind. I always giggled when strands of his soft brown hair would fall into his eyes as he leaned over his guitar, completely immersed in his music. I often wondered if he even realized that I was still there. Music was his passion. And he was mine.

It’s strange how I can still remember the night it happened so vividly. We were setting on that old swing and he was playing the most beautiful melody. I had never heard it before. When he finished, he looked up at me and smiled. I was breathless.

"Did you like that?"

"It was beautiful, Chris. What’s it called?"

He shrugged as he placed his guitar gently onto the porch. "It doesn’t have a name yet," he replied, looking back up at me seriously. He intertwined my fingers with his. "I wrote it for you. So maybe I should call it Stacy. Or Stacy Marie. Or maybe just…Princess. Hey, I like that. Princess. What do you think?" The serious look on his face had faded into that amazingly quirky smile of his.

I was speechless.

"Stace? Are you okay?" He paused and then his smile faded. "You hated it, didn’t you?"

Somewhere, deep inside me, I found my voice. "No, Chris…no. I loved it, really. I’m just…shocked. I can’t believe you would write something for me…"

"Why not?" he interrupted, his smile having returned. "I love you." The way those words rolled off his tongue nearly made me fall off the swing. He said them like they weren’t completely earth shattering. Like they didn’t change my entire world.

"You…you love me?" I managed to stutter, my eyes wide.

"Of course I do, sweetheart. I just figured you realized that by now."

My stomach was in my throat and my heart was pounding in my toes. "I love you too, Chris."

He smiled and leaned in, kissing me softly on the lips. "Come on," he whispered, taking my hand in his. "There’s something I want to show you."

He led me to the passenger side door of his old pick-up truck and, like a gentleman, helped me in. Lying next to me in the front seat was a bottle of my grandpa’s homemade strawberry wine. I eyed it nervously, wondering if I could possibly be right. Would tonight be the night? When we reached the edge of the river and Chris pulled out a blanket for us to sit on, I knew that my premonition had been correct.

Like strawberry wine and seventeen
The hot July moon saw everything
My first taste of love oh bittersweet
Green on the vine
Like strawberry wine

For a long while we did nothing but sit and talk, taking turns sipping from the bottle of sweet pink-tinted wine as the moon and stars twinkled overhead. It was an absolutely beautiful evening, not even a hint of chill in the air. After nearly half of the bottle had been emptied, Chris’s lips, teeth, and tongue began to tease the sensitive skin of my neck. I melted into his arms instantly.

"Oh Stacy," he murmured softly into my ear as I lay back on the blanket, bringing him with me. Funny, I wasn’t nearly as scared as I would have expected myself to be. I was a virgin and Chris knew it. And I knew that he would be gentle.

It was a slow, tedious, yet sensuous process, but eventually all of our clothing had been tossed aside onto the riverbank. Every inch of my skin was on fire. I was certain that he must have been able to feel the heat radiating off from me. But he didn’t say a word. He just smiled and kept kissing me. Slow, soft, drawn-out kisses. Kisses that made the world stand still and my heart beat so rapidly I thought it would burst from my chest.

His hands, hardened just slightly from all the work he had been doing, were everywhere. And his lips and tongue were never far behind. I was overcome by the sensations that coursed through me. I had heard girls from my high school talk about their first times. None of them had ever told a story like this one. I never wanted what he was doing to me to end.

And then he was there, hovering over me, his hands on either side of my head. "Do you want me to stop?" he just barely whispered.

That was the last thing I wanted. I shook my head vigorously. "No, Chris. Please, don’t stop."

He smiled and kissed my forehead; his eyes even darker than usual, clouded over with the lust that I knew he was feeling. "I’m sorry if I hurt you," he stated genuinely. "I never want to hurt you."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded slowly. My head fell back against the blanket as he entered me slowly for the very first time.

I still remember when thirty was old
And my biggest fear was September when he had to go

I have never since then encountered a summer that flew by so quickly. The hot North Carolina days were nothing compared to the steamy nights that Chris and I made together. I was head over heels in love with him and I was certain that nothing would ever change that. I was so young. So naïve. I honestly believed that our love for each other would never grow old. I thought the two of us could never change. I thought we would be together forever.

As the final days of August drew closer and closer, I felt my world begin to spiral out of control. I contemplated giving up all my hopes and dreams for Chris. I was ready to move to Florida just to be with him. I didn’t care that I had already been accepted at a wonderful school back in Michigan. All I cared about was Chris. Ironically, it was Chris who talked me out of running away with him.

"I love you, Stacy," he confessed to me, sitting on the bank of that same river where we had first made love. "You know that."

It was our last night together and I was a mess. I couldn’t even speak, too afraid that I would begin to cry again. I just nodded my head numbly.

"But sweetheart, you can’t come with me."

I felt the tears begin to fall. I knew there would be no use in trying to hold them back now. I wanted to ask him why, but I couldn’t. But I guess I didn’t really have to. My eyes gave me away.

"Stace, I want to be with you. Honestly, I do. But you have such a bright future ahead of you. I can’t let you give it all up for me. I would hate myself for making you do that."

"But…I…want to," I choked out around my tears.

"Oh, darling," he sighed, pulling me to him, placing my head on his chest and running his fingers through my soft blonde hair. "Baby…I love you so much. We’ll make this work. I’ll call you and we can write each other…and we’ll see each other on our vacations. I promise, if this is meant to be, it will happen."

I nodded again, more slowly this time. "Chris, I love you."

He smiled, looking down on me with those beautiful eyes. Then he kissed me and made love to me for the very last time.

In the morning he left…back to Florida. He took my heart with him.

A few cards and letters and one long distance call
We drifted away like the leaves in the fall
But year after year I come back to this place
Just to remember the taste

Like I said before, I was so naïve. Our long distance relationship amounted to very little. I wrote him several times. It was rare that he returned my letters. And when he did, he was always talking about this band that he wanted to start. I believed in him from the very beginning. I knew he would make it. I also knew that there would be no more room for me in his life.

I have to admit that I wasn’t completely surprised when the letters stopped coming. He was my first love. I would always hold a very special place for him in my heart. But I was busy and he was busy and, well, life happens. What did surprise me, however, was the phone call I got from him almost three years later. I still remember it like it was just yesterday.

"Stace, phone for you," my roommate Sarah shouted across our extremely small apartment. "Some guy…says his name is Chris."

I was amazed at the way my knees almost gave out at the sound of his name. For supposedly being over him, I wasn’t acting much like it. I picked up the receiver in my bedroom hesitantly.

"Hello?"

"Hey there." He sounded exactly like I had remembered him. Except maybe a little more grown up. More like a man. I had to remind myself that he was 24 years old now. He was a man.

"Long time no talk," I joked, having absolutely nothing else to say. Actually, I had a lot to say. But none of it would come out of my mouth.

"Yeah," he responded. I could sense the uneasiness in his voice. After all this time I could still read him like an open book. "Look, I’m sorry about not keeping in touch."

"It’s been three years, Chris," I snapped, surprising even myself. "I hope you didn’t call me just to apologize. It seems a little late for that." Why was I being so mean? I had convinced myself that losing touch with Chris wasn’t a big deal. So why was his phone call affecting me like this?

He sighed. I could almost picture him running a hand through that beautiful dark hair I loved so much. "Actually Stace, I called to say thank you."

"Wha…what?"

"Thank you…for believing in me. I finally got the group together. We just got signed to a major record label. We’re going to Germany tomorrow to start recording. Not a lot of people thought I could do this. But you did. So…thank you."

I was crying when we hung up. I knew that I would never hear from him again.

And I haven’t, not to this day.

I’ve kept track of what he’s done. His group, of course, is huge. It’s fairly easy to find out any information that I want on him. I’ve watched from afar as he’s gone through the ups and downs of his career. A large part of my heart is still his. That’s probably why I was so devastated when I heard about his new girlfriend. That beautiful blonde. Tall, leggy, every man’s dream woman. That’s probably also why I cried for him when they broke up. I had never seen him so sad…except maybe when he had told me goodbye that warm September morning.

As I stand here now, looking down at the old riverbank where we first were together, I wonder if he remembers me. He probably doesn’t. At least not like I remember him. I’ve come back here every year since 1991 and every year it all comes flooding back to me.

Of strawberry wine and seventeen
The hot July moon saw everything
My first taste of love oh bittersweet
Green on the vine
Like strawberry wine

We made love here so many times. And he was always the same. So soft. So gentle. So completely full of love for me and my body. He never hurt me. Not even that first time. He was so considerate. There are times when I wish desperately to feel his tender hands on my skin again. To have his kisses trail down my neck. To tremble as his fingertips make tiny circles on the small of my back while his tongue sweeps around my navel, moving ever lower.

Those nights we had together were so good. I may have been inexperienced but it never hindered us. Chris really did teach me everything I know about love. And I will be forever grateful to him for that. Even if he never knows it.

The fields have grown over now
Years since they've seen the plow
There's nothing time hasn't touched
Is it really him or the loss of my innocence
I've been missing so much

It’s sad, really, how much time has changed things. My grandfather died a couple of years back and my grandmother moved away. I inherited this place but haven’t really had a lot of time to fix it up. I’m only 26, after all. And I’m still trying to establish my place in this world. Someday I want to move back here. Get someone to clear out all the underbrush around the river. See if maybe I can save some of the crops from complete extinction. But right now it’s too hard. Too sad. Too many memories.

Tears come to my eyes, even now, as I remember all the memories. Funny, I’m not so sure the memories of Chris are even what make me cry. I spent so much time here as a young girl. So many happy events took place on this very farm, surrounded by these very fields and this very river. Letting a long held back tear slip down my cheek; I sit down in the soft dirt by the river and close my eyes.

Then I hear it. I figure I must be dreaming. But I hear it again. Slowly, I open my eyes. The sun is being blocked by a figure standing just a few feet to my left.

"Stace?"

I sit upright suddenly, my eyes wide with disbelief. He’s right here in front me. More importantly, perhaps, he remembers me. "Chris?"

"What are you doing here?" he questions softly, shocked.

"Me? I own this place now. What are YOU doing here?"

He looks down at his shoes. They probably cost him a few hundred dollars, I think to myself. Must be nice to have the luxury to spend that much money on a pair of shoes. But then I realize, quite suddenly, that they’re a simple pair of Nike…a lot like the one’s I bought my brother for Christmas last year. Maybe Chris hasn’t changed all that much. I know I haven’t. Sure, our lives are different and time has slowly weathered our surroundings. But on the inside are we really all that different? I smile.

"I guess I just came to…to reminisce. I never thought…I mean…I can’t believe…" his voice trails off and he looks up at me. Those dark brown eyes bore into my skin. I still feel like he can see into my very soul. "You’re here."

I stand up and walk to him, slowly, almost afraid that he will once again disappear into thin air as I draw closer. When I am just inches from him, he pulls me forcefully into his arms and wraps me in his warm embrace. Without having enough time to stop my reaction, I burst into tears.

"I’ve missed you," I confess.

He just holds me tighter and kisses the top of my head. I feel that his hands are trembling just slightly as he rubs them up and down my back. I know that he has missed me too. He doesn’t have to say it. I can feel it in his touch.

After several minutes I find the courage to look up at him again. He smiles down at me. His teeth are still perfect and that gaze still goes directly to my heart. He has me, still, completely and totally, even after almost eleven years.

"I’ve never stopped thinking about you," he confesses quietly, his fingers now tracing small circles on my upper arms. "I just…I never knew how to get a hold of you. Or what I would say if I did. My grandma told me about when your grandfather died. I wanted to come to the funeral. But…I was touring…and I know that’s not a good excuse…but I was afraid…I didn’t think…I wasn’t sure you’d want me there anyway…and…"

He still rambles when he’s nervous, that’s for sure. I put a single finger to his lips and shake my head. "You don’t have to explain anything to me, Chris. I understand. Your life is completely unimaginable to me. I have no idea what it must be like to be you."

"I’m still me," is his sad reply. He takes my hand and places it over his heart. "This hasn’t changed."

Very, very slowly, he leans in towards my lips. I lick them in anticipation. My heartbeat quickens. My knees turn to jelly. He smiles. I smile in return and cup the back of his neck with my hand, drawing him ever nearer.

"I still love you."

We both say it at almost the exact same time. And then he kisses me. And it is the same. Nothing has changed. I am finally home. And, in his heart he knows, so is he.

Like strawberry wine and seventeen
The hot July moon saw everything
My first taste of love oh bittersweet
Green on the vine
Like strawberry wine