Grapes to Wine
Francesca Dodaro
Squish, Squish. Skins separate from the innards as grapes get mushed into wine. Dorothy keeps stomping, squishing grape bits and liquid between her toes. It’s the only way she can think to make ends meet. Ever since prohibition has been in effect, alcohol has been selling for a higher dollar, and Dorothy has been a smart little lady to take advantage of the circumstances. Maybe school was good for something, she thought. Not a single soul on this Earth would have ever thought that Dorothy Kirian, the “used-to-be” goody-two-shoes, would do something so criminal: straight-A student Dorothy, the kind of Dorothy who was dressed to the nines for every occasion. She had become a mere shell of her old self as life had ripened her nearly rotten. All the years of hard work and outstanding grades amounted to nothing, and the only one Dorothy could think to blame was herself.
Ever since she’d gotten out of school and married that good-for-nothing Donald Weebler, she’d seen her fair share of struggles. Three years into the marriage, Donald picked up and left. No rhyme or reason, either, just pure dumb impulse. The only fitting way he thought of to leave was running out on his birthday, right after Dorothy had cooked his favorite dishes. She never saw him after he went out for that final pack of cigarettes. Getting him to quit was another one of many problems Dorothy had failed to fix. The warmth of freshly baked bread and the smell of roasting turkey wafting throughout the house, Dorothy looked out the window and never saw Donald again as he drove off in a big yellow cab. Funny how it reminded her of the long bus rides she used to take on the school bus, strewn with stressful assignments and gossip about the neighborhood boys.
Ow! Dorothy thought as a drop of grape juice squirted into her eye. This clued her back in to what she was doing, and she quickly finished mushing the grapes into juice where she added yeast and put a cloth over the batch that would be ready to consume as wine in a couple of weeks. After getting cleaned up, she scrubbed her legs to get most of the grape stains out; Dorothy couldn’t risk anybody finding out her secret business to make ends meet; jail time for these activities was a minimum of two years. Satisfied with her appearance, she decided to throw on her most risque outfit, a knee length skirt she’d had since high school, with skin colored stockings to hide her stained legs, and a sparkly sleeveless top to show off her slightly-toned arms. Dorothy never was the feminine type of girl, so dressing similar to the flappers she saw every night made her feel a bit more girly and human every time she went dancing. The night time was her only escape from reality, and dancing was a passion she’d never had an opportunity to cultivate. Tonight Dorothy was going to forget about everything and just dance until she felt the airy nature of cloud nine. You never know, maybe she’d find Mr. Right tonight, but then again there are plenty more shadows waiting to grab her as well.
Walking into a club called The GrapeVine, she shed her lacy white shawl to feel the draft through the windows cooling the dancers on the floor, and shivers racked through her body. Stomps could be heard all around the room as men and women danced the foxtrot and the band sung with a newfound enthusiasm. Immediately after finding a placeholder for her shawl, she mingled with all different kinds of people, completely forgetting about her earlier illegal endeavors. Eventually, she found a partner out on the dance floor. He was a tall blonde with green eyes and a muscled figure, which was glaringly obvious through his tight dress shirt. Usually, Dorothy had no problem dancing alone, after all she was an independent woman, but tonight she craved company. Donald had been invading her mind lately, and a distraction was well deserved.
“You dance much, stranger?” Green eyes asked.
Is he talking to me, who would ever notice me?
Dorothy answered, “Not much, but enough to know some steps.”
He spun her around and pressed his body closer to hers as they both fell into a waltz. Sweat dripped down Dorothy’s back and she matched his pace.
“Does this little dancer have a name?”
Dorothy blushed. “Dorothy, but my friends call me Dotty.”
“Well Dotty, the name’s Charles,” he replied. They both seemed to change dances as they inquired more about one another. Dorothy discovered Charles was more than just a dancer. He was actually pretty young too, younger than her. The only thing they hadn’t discussed was what type of work each did, which seemed a bit suspicious on both sides, but everyone kept their secrets. While they both wished this night didn’t have to end, Dorothy uttered she had to leave.
“I’ll walk you home,” Charles insisted.
“I don’t want to be a bother, and I came here alone. I should be able to walk home alone.”
“Honestly, I just want to know where I can pick you up next time I come looking for you. Plus a pretty girl such as yourself shouldn’t be walking home alone. Who knows who could be waiting out there?”
“Alright,” Dorothy finally managed to say, “but only this once.” Of course, she didn’t want anyone seeing her rundown apartment, but she hadn’t seen a man since Donald, and she didn’t want to let this opportunity slip between her fingers.
After a light twenty minute stroll, they reached Dorothy’s apartment. Charles didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was a bit surprised, yet he showed little expression on his face as he didn’t want to be rude by judging the crummy building.
“If you are alright with it, I would like to take you on a date at some point soon?” Charles politely asked.
Dorothy had no idea how to respond, but her mouth moved before she had a chance to think. “Yes, I would love to.”
Two weeks passed before Charles knocked on her door. It wasn’t like she really had the chance to think about him because of the bottling procedures which were taking place along with all the late night grape stomping. The cycle was constant, and Dorothy got used to working around the clock. Knock! Knock!
I wonder who that could be? Dorothy asked herself.
She quickly cleaned up and put on a floor-length skirt to cover her red legs. As the door swung open she caught a glimpse of the most attractive man she has ever seen decked out in a fully white suit.
“May I come in?” Charles implored.
Oh shoot! I never got to clean up! “Just a minute I… I need to freshen up.”
Promptly, the door slammed in Charles’ face as a fruity scent slipped between the crack under the door. Dorothy rushed around to clean up her shabby apartment, throwing all of her equipment into the bathroom and locking it immediately after. She dressed in a simple long skirt with a tight-fitted long sleeve shirt, and once she decided all of her grape-stained body parts were covered, she opened the door wide. Stepping inside, Charles made the apartment seem smaller than it was, his head nearly touching the ceiling. He noticed the windows were open in the middle of winter and smelled a bit of alcohol in the air. Now he was a bit suspicious, but he pushed the questions aside as he waited for Dorothy to lead him to the living room as she got ready.
A mere ten minutes later he saw her walking out of her room in a sequined top and a knee length skirt. They took a walk to a quaint restaurant and Dorothy found herself increasingly interested in Charles, and it seemed like he was reciprocating the same feelings. The night quickly came to an end and Dorothy sighed as she plopped on her rickety bed, thinking over their night together.
As the following weeks went by, Dorothy and Charles saw each other pretty frequently, and eventually they decided to start dating seriously. Dorothy was having the time of her life with Charles courting her, and she seemed to be making a bit more money, enough money to move out of her apartment into one in the nicer side of town.
Boxes littered the floor as Dorothy unpacked her belongings into her new apartment. Things seemed to finally fall into place. She had a man who treated her right and an apartment in the safe side of town with more space than she knew what to do with. Dorothy thought that nothing could go wrong and was excited to call Charlie to invite him to her new place.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Frantically, Dorothy ran to the door. I wonder who is banging so loudly, can’t they wait a minute?
“It’s the police, open up,” a masculine voice screamed through the door. The terror set in and tears billowed up in her eyes. I never thought I would go to jail. I finally had everything together.
“Charles?”
“Dotty?” They both asked each other at the same time.
Dorothy noticed his blinding blue outfit, and racked her brain for any indication that he had told her he was a police officer.
Charles finally spoke. “I didn’t think you were the one I’ve been tracking down all this time? Who really are you?”
“Listen, I’ve just been trying to make ends meet…”
“So the only job you could think of was making illegal alcohol?”
“I’m sorry,” Dorothy earnestly replied.
“I have no choice but to take you into custody. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked things out? Maybe found you a more promising honest job.”
Anger came rolling off her like waves, “Why would I have told you! You weren’t honest either. You never told me about your job!”
“I couldn’t have. I’m an undercover cop! I can’t betray my work like that!” Charles screamed back.
“I hope I never see you again!” Dorothy yelled as Charles slapped the handcuffs over her wrists. She probably would never see him again. Dorothy knew the consequences for making alcohol. On the drive over to the police station, Dorothy thought, Trusting men has never gone over well for me. I’m never putting faith in another man again.
Francesca Dodaro is in the class of 2024, double majoring in English and finance. Aside from going on adventures, she is fond of food blogging. When she’s not partaking in life’s ventures and tasty cuisine, you will find her burrowed between covers wrapped up in a story.