21.10.

Your body disintegrated beneath my touch.

Molly Anne Barrett

Sotto Voce, Chapter 21

It had been weeks since the crush, since the nightly babysitting of tanks of fermenting juice, of staying up into the early morning hours to push the rising cap of wine must back down and through the tanks of Rhapsody’s youngest vintage.

Kurt stayed up with Blaine most nights, and visited other wineries undergoing the same process by day. Within a couple of weeks — the bulk of fermentation behind it — the winery undertook a second round of intensive labor. Blaine oversaw the pressing of juice off the skins so it could be poured into freshly cleaned tanks and barrels for a first racking, letting it rest for a couple of months before it was strained off and poured anew into a fresh set of tanks and barrels.

This was the treasured down time — though every winery had plenty to do while its maturing wines took a winter’s rest, especially Rhapsody.

Kurt used the free time to edit and polish some lingering columns, and convinced Blaine to step away from the tanks and the computer long enough to venture out to some of the region’s more obscure tasting rooms, or to enjoy a picnic by the reservoir. He impressed himself with his negotiating skills, betting Blaine a night in San Francisco and a blowjob that Quinn would insist on last-minute copy within 24 hours of Thanksgiving. To his professional consternation but personal delight, he won the bet.

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