Till We Meet Again Read Online Free Page B

the best memories ever.
    On Christmas Day, our Uncle Willie would sneak away and dress up as Santa Claus. Our aunts and uncles would make all of us kids sit down on the living room floor and the next thing we’d hear was “Ho, Ho, Ho” coming from upstairs. We’d look up and there would come Santa down the stairs cracking jokes like only Uncle Willie could. People often compared him to the comedian Richard Pryor and always said for more reasons than his jokes. We kids would laugh so hard we’d cry. Santa would pass out envelopes with a brand new $20 bill in each. Even as teenagers we didn’t care if Santa, i.e., our grandparents, only gave us $20 we were having so much fun.
    The Open House/New Year’s Day celebration was for everyone. There was no sit down dinner, no kids’ tables tonight, there were food warmers filled with food on the hutch; china, crystal and silverware on the sideboard and the dining room table with its Egyptian tablecloth was filled with platters and bowls of food. Just about anything you could think of was there. The dining room as always was packed with people filling their plates and talking.
    My grandfather – who only stood at 5’7” - always seemed to be the center of attention telling one of his stories. But at this point, he was the center of attention to two of my little cousins, Andy and Sam, ages 9 and 10. He was conjugating Latin verbs. Grandpa was very fond of letting people know he was fluent in Latin. A language he learned back in boarding school, so many years ago. His cocoa brown skin and bright eyes showed off his pearly white teeth. My cousins watched Grandpa with a look of complete devotion on their face. I recognized that look all too well. As I have looked at him that way for most of my life. Walking by with a smile I ruffle the soft curls of little Andy who was so caught up in watching Grandpa, he didn’t even notice my presence.
    My grandmother sat on the high back dining room chair surrounded by some of our church members. She spoke softly to the members while quietly giving orders to the help hired for the party. As I watched her I was reminded of a Queen holding court. No longer the young girl with a tiny waist that my grandfather first fell in love with so many years ago.  A little plumb, her hair cut short and a little gray; not one wrinkle on her beautiful smooth caramel colored face. She glanced over at my grandfather, who happened to be glancing at her at the same time. They smiled at each other. And for just a moment there seemed to be no one in that room, in that large house but just the two of them, lovers and best friends forever. A love I longed to experience when I got older.
     
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    Sitting at a table for two, across from a sexy, successful man, surrounded by soft candlelight, and soft music playing in the background, all I could think of was “What the hell am I doing here?”
    I never did this before. Go out to dinner with someone I’ve only known for a few hours? This wasn’t at all like me. I had decided to make some changes in my life after the boys graduated from college, but was I going too far? What did I know about this guy, Charles? He could be a mass murderer for all I knew. I should have watched “America’s Most Wanted” last night.
    Well, if this is the end, I should enjoy the time I have left.
         “This is a wonderful place. I haven’t been here in quite a while,” I said looking around at the upscale Italian restaurant, “It’s really beautiful.”
         “Yes, it is,” Charles said, looking directly into my eyes.
    I reached for my glass and took a sip of wine, O.K., a gulp.
         “You seem nervous,” he said.
         “Do I?” I said, going in for a second gulp, instead taking a dainty little sip.
         “I don’t bite,” joked Charles while raising his eyebrows as if to suggest, “Unless you want me to”.
         “Are you playing some kind of game with me?” I asked