Free Till We Meet Again by Sylvia Crim-Brown

were starting something good here?”
     
         “We were, we are,” I said looking down at my hands.
     
         “Then you’re going to have to start trusting me and stop jumping to conclusions,” Charles said moving to the middle of the couch. “We’ve got to communicate.”
     
         “Yes,” I said still looking at my hands.
     
         “I’ll tell you what. Trust me until I give you a reason not to.”
     
         “That’s not so easy for me,” I said.
     
         “If you’re willing to try I’ll help you,” he said, moving closer.
     
         “That may not be so easy for you, too,” I said still looking down at my hands.
     
         “Maybe not, but maybe we can help each other.”  He lifted my chin with his hand. “You can start by looking at me and not at your hands.”
     
    As I looked into Charles’ eyes I was relieved to see the hurt in his eyes was replaced with compassion and something else I couldn’t quiet name.
     
         “I’m really, really sorry I yelled at you,” I said moving into his arms.
     
         “It’s a good thing one of us knows how to control his temper,” he rubbed my back as his chin rested on top of my head.
     
    We stayed that way for a moment.
     
    He kissed me gently and said, “I never had a chance to show you the rest of my place.”
     
         “There’s more?” I asked.
     
    I could have easily stayed in his arms, but I reluctantly got up and followed him as he took my hand.
     
         “Let me show you the media room.”
     
         “Media room?” I asked. “Ok.” Actually I was wondering if we had time to go back to the bedroom before I had to leave at noon.
     
    I walked into the media room forgetting all about my train of thought. It could have been a haven for most men. The room was huge. Directly across from a plush leather couch that reclines was a big screen Smart TV. Football season had just begun. I knew where I’d spend my Sundays. There was a fully stocked bar with stools. A snack table with jars of different candies, a movie style popcorn machine, and a poker table.
     
    On one wall there were pictures and posters of jazz musicians like Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, Duke Ellington, Wynton Marsalis and others I wasn’t familiar with. He had stacks of vinyl jazz albums displayed and an actual turntable to play them on.
     
          “I recognize some of the people but who are the others?” I asked looking at his collection.
     
    Charles answered his eyes glowing as he spoke, “Here we have Dr. John and “Buckwheat” Zydeco and…”
     
         “Buckwheat?” I asked.
     
    Charles laughed. “Yes, you know that song ‘Hey good lookin’ what you got cooking?” He sang off key.
     
         “Oh Lord,” I said laughing and shaking my head.
    In addition there were pictures of Charles in his college days playing a trumpet on stage. “This was one of the best nights of my life,” Charles looking longingly at the picture, “playing on the stage of ‘The Bayou Café’. I almost decided not to go to law school and pursue a music career.”
     
         “Really?” I asked. I couldn’t picture it.
     
    On another wall were football memorabilia. There were autographed jerseys and footballs….autographed pictures of Dallas Cowboy’s Troy Aikman, Emmitt Smith, New York Giants’ Michael Strahan and others. But the thing that caught my eye was an autographed picture of Charles standing with Lawrence Taylor of the New York Giants. LT himself!
     
    I turned and looked at Charles. He stood there with a wide grin on his face.
     
         “But I thought you didn’t like LT?”
     
         “I didn’t say that. I said he wasn’t the best defensive player of all time.”
     
         “Then who is,” I said getting my back up again I squinted my eyes at him.
     
         “L.T.,” he said laughing. “You have no idea how sexy you look when you get defensive over your