It had been a beautiful ceremony. My niece, Christine, looked like an angel as she walked down the aisle. My wife would have simply loved to be here. We'd always had a soft spot for Christine and knew that she'd make a beautiful bride. Unfortunately, her wedding was about nine months too late for my wife.
I sat at the table under the huge tent top, nursing a beer and a small cup of peanut M&Ms. I couldn't NOT come, but part of me didn't want to be here. It was the first time in forty years that I'd come to a wedding alone. Usually we came to these together, both of us enjoying the opportunity to dance with each other at the reception. Not that we were great dancers, but these were one of the few opportunities we had to dance with each other, and we did so enjoy the slow dances.
Everyone was being nice, those that hadn't made the funeral made the usual obligatory well wishes, but the reality is that I felt and probably looked like someone's dog that had been kicked one too many times. I felt about as low as was possible. My sister and her husband tried sitting with me, but I told them they didn't have to hover over me, and they finally moved off to socialize, something I just didn't feel like doing. I guess losing your partner in life after so many years will do that to you.
Oh, I'd made all the usual promises to Shelly on her death bed. I wouldn't curl up and let life run by. I'd find someone and find a way to move on. I wouldn't let myself waste away. You know the promises a wife will make you make because she knows you all too well and knows that is exactly what you'll do. She'd made her best friend promise to make me date again. Yeah, like that's going to happen any time soon! At sixty, I'm way too damn old to start over.
Do I miss companionship? Yeah. But it's that of a certain person I want, and I know I'll never have again, so why bother? That was what was occupying my mind as I sat alone, nursing the same beer for at least half an hour. I'd thought about leaving and going back to the little motel I'd managed to find a room at, but I really did want to stay at least long enough to see Christine do all those bride things, not to mention she'd lined up a special song for me to dance with her after the obligatory dances were done. I didn't want to let her down.
"Mind if I join you?" I heard a soft feminine voice ask me from behind.
"Um. Sure," I answered a bit awkwardly, my brain taking a few moments to shift gears and drag itself out of the pit it was slowly digging.
"Thank you," the young woman said as she pulled out the chair to my left. "I think you found the perfect spot."
"The perfect spot?" I asked as I let my eyes travel quickly up and down the curvy figure encased in the simple yellow sundress. I'd guess she was late thirties or so, slender, but not super model skinny, nicely filled out chest, strong athletic looking legs that looked quite attractive as she slipped easily into the plastic folding chair next to mine. Her skin was the color of heavily creamed coffee, showing some family history of maybe African American or other similar dark skinned race. Her hair was deep brown, almost black, with a little bit of bouncy wave and soft looking. Her face was extremely attractive with full red lips, a short perky nose and extremely attractive green eyes.
"The fan?" she said questioningly, making me realize that she'd had to repeat herself.
"Oh yeah. The fan," I blurted out, twisting my head to look at the huge four foot diameter fan that was blowing air into the open sided tent.
"It could have been a little cooler," she said, waving her hands to move some air across her obviously sweaty face and chest. "I know it's only eighty, but it feels a lot hotter in the sun."
"Yeah. It does that," I agreed, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the handkerchief I always carried. I held it out for her. She looked at it, then at my face, and thanked me with a smile as she reached out and took it from me. She used the soft cotton material to dab the sweat on her forehead and down her face before using it to wipe away the sweat on her neck and finally her chest and cleavage. She looked over at me again, almost as if pausing to think, and then down at herself again. She unbuttoned the two top buttons of her dress and used the white handkerchief to dry down between her breasts as far as the edges of the white lace bra would allow, showing me even more of her easily C or D cup breasts. I was never really good at guessing cup size, but then I didn't have to. It was either "small", "nice" or "big" in my book. I enjoyed big. Sandy had been a triple D. Not when we married of course. She was only a C cup then, but nursing three kids had really made them fill out and it was something I always enjoyed. The young woman next to me was somewhere between nice and big. It took me several seconds before I realized I was staring at her tits, and embarrassingly jerked my eyes back up to her face.
"Thank you," she said softly, setting the handkerchief on the table next to my hand before reaching back to her dress and closing the top two buttons again. "That was nice of you."
"You're welcome," I answered, trying hard to return her smile, but just pasting it on without feeling it inside.
"So? You here alone?"
"Um. Yeah. Fraid so."
"Me too. Your wife couldn't make it?"
I felt the pasted on smile disappear and the look of kicked dog return all too quickly. "No. She's wasn't able to make it."
I looked back up at her just in time to see her eyes search mine for a moment. "You're William?" she asked softly.
"Yeah. Do I know you?"
"Oh. No. I just heard some people talking and all of a sudden... well... I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude."
"It's okay," I answered, even though it really wasn't. But I knew that if Shelly were here, she'd be pissed if I was rude to her.
She suddenly twisted in her chair to face a bit more in my direction and held out her hand. "I'm Charlotte, but my friends all call me Charlie."
"Charlie?" I asked curiously as I tentatively took her soft delicate hand.
"Yeah. When I was younger I loved the movie Top Gun. And since my name was the same as the woman Maverick fell in love with, my friends started calling me Charlie and it stuck."
I chuckled, the first time in months that humor actually managed to penetrate the darkness shrouding me. "It was a good movie."
"Still is. Classic now though, which of course makes me feel old."
I couldn't help but chuckle again. "Not hardly. Me? I'm old. You're way too young and good looking to consider yourself old," I said, instantly regretting the comment. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.
"Sorry for what? You should never apologize for complimenting a woman," she said with a soft smile. "But just for the record, how young do you think I am?"
"I'm afraid I'm not too good at guessing age," I said, not wanting to insult her if I guessed wrong.
"No? Well, thank you for the compliment anyway, but I'm most definitely NOT young, at least not in my book," she said without the smile leaving her lips. "So? Drinking beer?"
"Oh. Yeah," I said, pushing the half empty cup of warm liquid. "Sort of."
