From Different Walks of Life

The First Christmas

    Christmas Eve was turning out to be a beautiful day. Tom had gotten up early and gone for a run, taking my dog with him. After we had both showered and loaded my Jeep with our luggage, we started the four-hour drive for Sheridan. Conversation came easily between us, with laughter, and a little arguing over what could be considered decent Christmas music.

    We pulled in to Sheridan right before lunch, and my stomach was growling as I drove to the Cowboy Café, a favorite dive of mine. We walked inside, Tom's large hand on the small of my back as we were directed to a corner booth.

    "You kids need menus?" The older waitress asked. Tom glanced at me, and I smiled.

    "Nope. We'll share a Bubba combo, with buffalo, sweet potato fries, and apple pie." I said, and I saw Tom staring at me, his eyes wide behind his glasses. The waitress grinned.

    "Sure thing sweetheart." She left us, promising to bring two waters, and I finally met Tom's gaze.

    "What the hell is a 'Bubba combo?'" Tom spat. I laughed.

    "It's a cheeseburger, made with buffalo burger. You can't come to Sheridan, Wyoming and not try buffalo." I put my hands in the air, and he shook his head, reaching for my hands.

    "You're crazy, darling." I grinned.

    "You'll like it. It's a lot of food, though, that's why I thought we could share."

    "You may have germs."

    "I'll use a knife."

    "Fine." He leaned back in his seat, keeping hold of my hand, tracing circles on it. I relaxed in my own seat, my eyes on him. He had his glasses on today, no contacts, and a baseball hat shoved down on his head. It reminded me a lot of our first lunch together in Cheyenne. I quickly glanced around the restaurant – it was pretty slow today, considering it was Christmas Eve, and I guessed most people were home or traveling.

    The waitress interrupted my thoughts by bringing our food, and an extra plate. I went to work cutting the burger in half, and moving half of the fries and pie to the extra plate for Tom. We ate in silence for a few minutes, though I watched him every so often to gauge his reaction to the food.

    "Terrible." Tom said once his burger was completely gone, and he had started on the pie. "I would pass yours over here, you won't want it." He carefully reached for my plate, and I swatted at his hand.

    "Back off, you dork." I laughed. "Mine."

    "I am." He caught my hand and brushed his lips over my knuckles, causing my heart to leap. I smiled.

    "You are. And I'm yours."

    After our quick lunch, we were parked in front of my grandmother's three-story home in the middle of town. I stepped out of the Jeep, Tom following behind me, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looked up at the huge Victorian-era architecture.

    "This is where your grandmother lives?" He asked, and I nodded, chuckling.

    "Yep. She and Grandpa moved to town for a smaller place." Tom glanced at me, catching the sarcasm in my comment.

    "Darling, this could be a movie set if one didn't know any better."

    "Really?" I looked up at the three-story home looming in front of me. I had personally always been fascinated by my grandparents' home, but I didn't ever think about anyone else really standing in front of it in awe. It was quite breathtaking, really.