Grandpa went to the fridge grabbed a coke. Reached above the fridge into the cabinet and pulled down some whiskey. Grab a glass and poured himself a mixed drink. More whiskey than coke.
He walked over and took a seat at the table in the leaving room and motioned for me to sit too. He set the bottle on the table.
"Well, where should I start?" He was always like this before he started to tell one of his stories. Gathering his thoughts making the form and shape of a story. The longer he thought the better the story.
Braking the silence he asked, "How old do you think I'm?"
"Probably in your 60's may be in your 70's. Mom's in her upper 30's and you can't be much older than double that." It was my best guess.
"Good guess, and you would be right. If I was normal." He grimaced seeming to remember something.
"What do you mean by that?" How could grandpa be anything other than normal?
Taking a long drink from his glass. He started telling his story.
"I was born on the 21st of June 1826, in a small village of what is now the middle of Mexico. In those days it would have been considered near the bottom of our territory. We lost a lot in the Mexican-American War. My life until about 19 was pretty normal. I helped harvest food and the people were still running on the fumes of independence from Spain." He took a sip of his drink again.
"But how cou---" He cut me off rising his hand telling me to stop.
"I was 17 when I first saw her, Violante. Gods she was beautiful. Dark hair and good tan which meant she actually went outside. Which so many people of the higher station didn't, the whiter the better. Smarter than me by far and well breed. She was well above my station. I was a lowly farmer. Her dad was the governor's, right-hand man."
"It took me three months to find a way to talk to her. Since I did have the same circles as her. Another three months and I had worked my way into a job printing for the government. I knew would allow me to have contact with her." He took another sip of his drink.
"Things were good. We talk at least once a week. She was funny and I tried to hold up my end of the conversation. I had to learn a lot of politics, art, and other things. But it was worth it. She over the year she would seek me out to talk when she was picking up her prints. I'm sure her father knew by I did nothing untoward. Just talking and meeting of the minds." He emptied his glass and breathed out slowly.
"She is the reason I knew about the territory issues we were having with the United States and Texas. She was also the reason I joined the army. If I could come back a war hero or even comeback a success soldier I would have a better chance of marrying her."
"When I told her. She wasn't excited but though it might work if she could hold off Rodrigo. He was close to her father and would be likely to ask for her hand soon." He breathed deep and poured another drink straight whiskey this time.
"Going to war changed everything. It's how I lost her and how I ended up here." He gulped down some whiskey. "It was all a mistake."
