100 Love Letters I'll Never Send (A Family Affair Part III) (c) 2018

All around the long Thanksgiving table at Mom's we sat. There were about thirteen of us. Most of them guest. There was talk over the table. Of course, good friends of my mom and step father were curious about the new guest; my love Carmelita.

"Where did you grow up?" Then she'd tell these stories I did not recall ever knowing. She'd tell them about how she was a country girl raised on a farm. She eased herself so easily to win everyone's favor. Especially, talking about how great her mother was, and how much she looked up to her.

When the questions seemed to feirse my sister would jump in to save her saying things like, "Ya'll gonna' scare her and she'll never come back," my sister would giggle a bit. So would Carmilita.

By the end of our visit she won over everyone at the table. My mother even gave her a big hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

Our next stop, 12:30 pm, "We're running late dear," we held hands to the car. I did my gentle man thing that I had wished I had done with you. I opened the door for her.

Twenty minutes later we're at my Father's house. "We been expecting you," my step mother answers the door.

He's got the ultimate spread. My step sister with her two kids, my father and my step mother.

Carmelita seemingly becomes another person around my father. Now she's all intelligent. Talks about relatives she knows who struck it big. I was amazed in a very uncomfortable way.

She acted so loving, so kind, so fun around my family. Yet, when we got back in the car she was silent. Something had to be wrong. Is this a 'deal breaker?' Is it just my mind playing tricks on me? I bet she's all tired from all those stories she told; showing off for my family.

I reach my hand to hold her hand. She pulls back. Then quickly falls asleep.

...and I'm feeling that nervous knot in my stomach. I'm losing her and this is all my fault.

"Hey dude," my cell phone vibrated the text. Then my phone rang, "Hey man," it is my childhood friend Carlton. For most of the drive back home we talked. Mostly, about our childhood.