The girl with the butterfly hair - part 2: A lonely wine glass

Before you read this blogspot, I suggest you read part 1, that you can find here.

She took another sip from the wine he had given her. It was probably a very nice wine, considering she was in Spain and considering how rich his family must be, living in a presumably big house behind the high stone wall she was leaning towards. When he had given her the glass of wine, he had asked her to wait just a little while, so he could prepare his family for another guest.  
So here she was, outside of the garden where the party was taking place, sipping on a glass of wine all alone. She was starting to feel silly. What was she doing here, standing outside of a house where there was a party going on, a party to which she did not seem to be welcome?

They had had fun tonight, she and the boy with the longest, darkest eye lashes she had ever seen. Much more pronounced than hers, even when she used "super volumizing mascara". It was not just the eye lashes of course. It was his shy smile, the jet black hair and the wonderful paintings he had done in art class. All of them illustrating animals of one kind or another. They had had so much fun together that it had seemed like a good idea to come along to this party. But now she had her doubts. He had asked her to wait just a few minutes. 
Now, she had been in Madrid long enough to know that "a few minutes" in Spain meant something different than a few minutes in Sweden, but still. She had waited quite some time already. If he would not come back within ten minutes she would leave.

"Have you gone insane? Do you want to ruin your big brother's graduation party?"
They are in the kitchen, he and his mother. She holds her slim arm across the chest, the other hand holding a wine glass. 
"You know how difficult this is for him. All these people. It only works because he knows them all very well and everyone knows how to treat him. And you want to bring in a new person, some foreign girl we have never seen?"
He looks at his mother, searching for words to say even though he knows he will not find the right ones.
"There are already more than twenty guests here. One more or less is not going to make a difference", he says weakly, Too weakly.
His mother puts down her wine glass on the counter.
"Don't pretend you do not know your brother, you know how strangers can upset him!"
He knows very well. He knows his brother's condition is the reason they live like they do, now that they can afford it. Away from the busy part of Madrid, behind a high wall, with access to a garden where the family has a lot of space just for themselves. No unexpected noises, no strangers coming in unannounced. A predictable world for his intelligent but socially handicapped brother. His very own Rainman. He was about to agree with his mother when she said something that really hurt.
"That you even think about this only shows that you do not really care about your brother."
His wounded look makes her step back.
"I love my brother more than you will ever understand! I know him a lot better than you and father do. But you, you only care about him, about his condition. That you have a healthy son that also has needs is something you don't care at all about!"

He grabs a wine bottle from the kitchen counter and storms out of the kitchen, out of the house, into the garden where groups of people are sitting around the pool, eating the tapas the catering firm has brought. All talking loudly while drinking wine and other drinks. 

His big brother stands on the other side of the pool, in a suit that is tailor-made for him but still looks like it belongs to someone else. When he spots his kid brother his eyes light up and he walks towards him, smiling. When he gets closer he slows down. Wants to show his affection and happiness, but wants to avoid physical touches. Not that he needs to worry, his kid brother knows very well. He just lifts his hand in their brother to brother -type of wave they have used since they were both little. 

When he has congratulated his big brother he rushes to the gate, while he wonders how he will explain to his queen of light that he really wants to be with her, but that he cannot invite her in. With the wine bottle still in his hand he nods to the guard who unlocks the gate. When he looks out his heart falls down to his stomach. 

The only thing waiting for him is an almost empty wine glass standing next to the wall.

I was inspired to this story when I encountered this wine glass outside a big garden with a stone wall during one of my morning dog walks.
The real story about this lonely wine glass? I don't know, so I made up my own.

What story would you make up?

Read part three of this story here.

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