110 comments/ 157741 views/ 66 favorites Love and Trust By: Slirpuff Love and trust, two things I thought for the longest time I'd never achieve in my lifetime. I was an innocent boy, untouched by the ugliness that life sometimes throws at you when the incident happened that set everything into play. There is a line from a Charles Dickens classic that best describes my childhood, 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..,' Forget my parents, if it weren't for my grandmother and my best friend in the world Jeremy, I never would have even made it out of grade school much less through college. It took twenty years before I could finally look in the mirror every morning and not think about what it took to get me this far. The nightmares are all but gone. And the anger? Well, that too is under control. Regrettably, however, there was a price to pay. We buried my grandmother just before my twenty-fourth birthday, a loss I still feel today. Jeremy and his wife, Cindy, continue to be there for me when I need a sounding board, which thankfully isn't often anymore. Regina, the love of my life, says she understands how I feel because she, like me, has seen adversity in her life but always had the backing of a loving and caring family, which I didn't have. So I smile, give her a kiss, and thank her for being in my life. ***************************** It was three days before my fifth birthday when my mom walked out on my dad and me. Looking back the first thing I remember about that day was it being loud—louder than it usually was around our house. I couldn't hear what they were arguing about, and at five I probably wouldn't have understood it anyway. However, when I heard glass breaking along with screaming I walked from our living room, where I'd been trying to watch television, to the doorway leading into our kitchen. My mother was pulling everything out of the cupboards and throwing it on the floor, all the while screaming at my dad, who was standing less than five feet away on the other side of the counter, screaming right back at her. Frightened, is how I felt at that moment. All I could think was grown-ups don't act like that, or weren't supposed to, were they? I must have started crying because I heard my dad yell at Mom. "Look at what the hell you're doing! You're scaring the shit out of your own son." I remember him coming over, picking me up, giving me a kiss and a hug while carrying me out of the kitchen. "You really are a piece of work, you know that?" he yelled over his shoulder at my mom. She yelled something back that I would have had my mouth washed out with soap for saying, and continued throwing everything around the kitchen. He put me down telling me to go watch television, but I wasn't going anywhere. They went at it again. Names were flung back and forth and when Mom stopped, I figured it was over—until the next time that is. "I don't need this shit," she yelled, grabbing for her coat and car keys. "I'm out of here, and I'm not coming back!" "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out, you tramp," was my dad's quick reply, but all I heard was what my mom said—she was leaving us. Crying hysterically, I ran after her, out the kitchen door, and into the garage. "Mommy, Mommy," I yelled, following close behind her. "Damn it, go back into the house," was all she said to me, but I wasn't going to let her leave. She was practically running to reach her car parked in the driveway. When I caught up to her tears were running down my cheeks as I reached for her. "I said go back into the house, you hear me?" I was reaching for her, grasping at anything I could get my hands on. Now with both my arms around her waist I figured I'd stopped her from leaving. She pried my small arms off her. "Stephen Joseph, I said go back into the house, now!" I was reaching for her one more time and that's when it happened. Whether she meant it or not, she still did it, and to this day it's burned into my brain. I felt the sting and heat from the slap immediately, and for me, time stopped. My mother had never slapped me before. Hell, she had never even spanked me. I was in shock. I just stood there looking into her tear stained eyes. Something died inside of me that day. I was innocent, untouched before that moment, and now I would be marked for the rest of my life. "You bitch! Get the fuck away from him," my dad screamed. He grabbed me and carried me back into the house. But even that move didn't stop my little brain from trying to process how my mother could have done this to me. I thought she loved me. I wasn't crying anymore. I was numb. My dad sat me on the couch. He stared out the front window watching my mom drive off. Those neighbors who were home at the time got quite a show that afternoon, and to this day they still talk about that little display on our driveway. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours were a blur. My grandmother came over, and some type of plan was made about the who, what, where, when, and why of my meager existence. From that day forward my grandma was there every morning when I woke up and would stay with me until Dad got home from work. And my loving mother? Well, that became my problem after my dad and his family washed their hands of her. It was almost a month before I saw my mother again. My grandma brought me over to her parents' house. I got to spend all of Saturday and most of Sunday with her. Loving and caring is what she was that weekend. Nothing was said about what she had done the day she left, and all I really cared about was that I was with her again. "As soon as I get settled you'll come live with me," she kept promising over and over, and at five I had no reason not to believe her. But no matter how many times she said it, it never happened. Her weekly visits became bi-weekly, then once a month, and finally it seemed I only saw her on holidays and special occasions, especially as I grew older. I think things came to a head when I was dropped off at my grandparents one Friday after school and she never showed up to see me all weekend. Her parents, my grandparents, always made sure I was kept busy, but they weren't the one I had come to see. I wanted—no, I needed—my mother, but did she still want me? "Honey, your mom had to work this weekend," they told me. "She has an important job and you should be proud of her." I didn't care about her important job. I just wanted her. Guess I just wasn't important enough. After that weekend, if Mom wanted to see me, my dad made her pick me up at our house. She said she loved me, only when I saw her now she always had some man with her. I think I was thirteen when she came to pick me up one Friday night with another one of her boyfriends in tow. I took one look at her and shut the door. I never spent another weekend with her after that. She would call, e-mail, and text me, that was about it. As I said, in her eyes I wasn't important anymore. I'd been replaced by something or should I say someone else in her life. I finally came to this realization: I no longer wanted to be another obligation for her. Kids can be mean, especially if you're not a member of their special group or clique. At first it was just questions about why I didn't have a mother. I would tell them I did have a mother, she just didn't live with us anymore. Later came the taunting, name-calling, and finally the pushing and shoving. I don't know how many times I came home from school in tears. My grandmother was always there for me with a kiss and a hug. As I grew older that did nothing for my cuts, bruises, and hurt feelings. After a particularly bad day at school I came home with a black eye. A kid at school said that his father told him my mother was a tramp and my father had kicked her out because of it. We went round and round with 'is not, is so' probably a dozen or more times before I finally ended up pushing him. He and two of his buddies then proceeded to kick the shit out of me. If it hadn't been for Jeremy I don't know what would have happened. He came up from behind them and dragged them off me. With two against three we put up a pretty good fight, still we got the worst of it. Hard not to since they were older and bigger than us. After that day Jeremy and I became inseparable. When my dad saw me he was livid. He looked at my face and his turned red with rage. "Who did this to you?" "A couple older boys," was my reply, looking down at the floor, embarrassed to look him in the eye. "How many were there?" When I told him the full story, including what Jeremy had done, he sat me down on the ottoman in front of his chair. "Steve, life sucks most of the time. Unless you're willing to fight for what you want, someone is always going to be there to try to take it from you. You're never going to be a fighter—you're too small—but that doesn't mean you have to give in to them, it only means you have to be smarter and willing to do whatever it takes to win. You understand?" I didn't, but I was soon to get an education on what an equalizer is. It was eight inches long and had a leather strap I could slip my hand into. It was made from what used to be the handle of my old wooden baseball bat. Now it was my equalizer. "Don't look for fights, however if one comes up don't run away. If they see they can't bully you anymore they'll stop, and if they don't, make them pay until they do." My grandmother wasn't happy and told my dad the Good Book said to turn the other cheek. "Ma, the only thing that does is to give them another place to hit. The sooner he realizes that nothing in this world is free, much less easy, the better off he'll be." Dad showed me how to use it, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid to walk to school. Three days is all it took. Jeremy and I were walking home from school when the group that attacked us, plus one more, stopped us. "Your mom's a slut and your dad's a pussy," the big kid in front said, with a stupid smirk on his face. I remembered what my dad said about trying to avoid a fight, so we tried to walk around them. "You hear what I said? You're dad is a pussy, so I guess that makes you one, too," he yelled. Laughing, he grabbed me from behind and pulled me to the ground. I was able to reach into my backpack, slipped my hand into the leather strap and waited. I was just getting to my feet when he tried to kick me. With my equalizer in my right hand I swung it hard and caught him on his lower left leg. His screams were music to my ears. I swung it again and caught him on his upper left arm. He was the one now on the ground bawling like a little baby. With newly found courage, I turned around and faced the stunned group. I saw fear in their eyes. I watched as they all took a step back. I turned and faced my attacker. "If I ever hear you say another word about my mother or father, or touch me again, I'll break one of your arms, do you understand?" I whacked him on the arm again when he didn't respond. That got his attention. "Okay," was all he said, looking up at me. Jeremy and I walked right through the group. Even though I was still scared shitless, I felt good just the same. My heart was beating a mile a minute, I was covered in my own sweat, but for the first time in my life I didn't feel like a victim. When I told my grandma she read me the riot act. "Violence never solves anything. If you would have just walked away they would have left you alone." I loved my grandmother to death, but she was from a time when people were nicer. That just wasn't the case anymore. All my dad did was smile when I told him. He cautioned me about getting too cocky, saying maybe now they would leave me alone. Even though the fight hadn't happened on school property, two days later my dad and I, plus all the other parents and kids, were called into the principal's office for a conference. My dad told me to say nothing as we listened to the parents of the kid I'd hit. They went on an on about how much pain Timmy was in and that I could have broken his arm and ruined his chances for a potential baseball scholarship. The other parents also said their children were greatly traumatized by the violence they witnessed. It was not looking good for me. When my dad stood up and started walking out the principal asked where he was going. "After listening to all this bullshit for the last twenty minutes I think I need some fresh air." "Mr. Moore, you don't seem to be taking this matter very seriously," the principal said, standing up to confront my dad, a bad move. "But I am or I never would have made that club for my son and shown him how to use it. Maybe the next time four bullies decide to pick on one smaller kid they'll think twice about what can happen." My dad turned to confront the parents of the boy who had initially attached me. "But to tell you the truth, I wish to hell he had broken your son's fucking arm. Then maybe he would understand what it feels like to get picked on day in and day out. And if you're interested, I also have a witness who will testify that the four of them started it. My son was only defending himself." It was now pretty quiet in that room. "As I see it we have two options here. One, you can give each of these little creeps detention for being general pains in the ass, or I can contact the school board and inform them that the principal of our school is openly allowing the bullying of his students." My dad turned and faced the principal. "The choice is yours." With the principal now stuttering, my dad grabbed me by the arm and we started to walk out with our head held high. Just before we walked out the door he turned to the father of the kid I'd hit. "Oh, by the way. I knew your wife when she was in high school, and she was one of the biggest sluts around, I guess that makes you a pussy too." My dad smiled. He didn't wait for the reply he knew would ever come. Instead we just walked out. I loved my dad. I'd like to say that growing up my dad was there for me all the time, but why lie. He gave me everything I physically needed, but didn't give me what the two women in my life had, love and warmth. To him it was important to be strong and hard, and to never show your vulnerability because it was a sign of weakness. Real men aren't weak was what he instilled in me. It was my grandmother who became my surrogate mother and always went the extra mile for me. She made me feel loved, wanted, and did her best to instill in me how to treat others. And by others I mean the members of the opposite sex. Though my dad dated on and off he made it a point never to flaunt the women in front of me. He always made sure I was in bed if he did bring someone home with him. Every once in a while I'd hear my dad and his date in his bedroom, but I never said a word about it. With him, there was to be no birds and bees discussion. He simply assumed I knew, or would pick it up on the street like he probably had. However, when I did get old enough to date, he told me if I even thought about doing it with a girl without protection, he and I would have a heart to heart and I wouldn't like it very much. Three days later I found a box of condoms on my bed—guess he was taking no chances. "Your dad is so cool," my best friend Jeremy said. "My dad would never have done that for me." I gave him half the box because at the time I wasn't even dating and he was. Jeremy and I were best friends ever since he had helped me ward off those bullies that one day after school. We were in the same grade just not usually in the same class. We lived a couple of blocks from each other and after school we congregated at either my house or his. My grandmother called him her adopted son, and his parents liked me enough that there was always an open dinner invitation. They knew about my mom and dad, but never once brought it up. When we hit high school Jeremy played football while I ran cross country and played soccer. We were still thick as thieves. Even when we started dating it seemed we continued to put each other first. Well, Jeremy did until his senior year when he met Cindy. He fell so hard and fast I told him he'd need a shovel to dig himself out, he was so deeply in love with her. She wasn't the most beautiful girl in class, but you'd never know it by the way he talked about her. I wished I had someone like that. I had my share of dates. I just never found that special one like he had. Most of the girls I dated were scatterbrains and thought they were God's gift to men, or boys in my case. When a couple of them played games with me I called them out on it. If they didn't want to go out with me, all they had to do is say so instead of lying to me, because I always found out. Guys, unlike girls, weren't good at keeping dating secrets and were usually bragging about it the next day. I supposed I could have gone a little easier on them, but lying and trust were two huge issues with me. In college I thought I was in love not once, but twice. Debby was great. We jelled in many ways, then I found out she wanted to travel the world, and kids? Well, she was going to be way too busy for that nonsense. Our relationship didn't last long. After six months of dating, I introduced Rosemary to my family. Everyone thought we were made for one another, even me, until I caught her in a lie and not a small one at that. We'd had a bit of a rocky start. She was going out with a guy named Kenny. The relationship had run its course and she was trying to break it off with him. We talked, went to a couple of movies, and I even sprung for dinner a few times trying to convince her to dump the jerk, her words not mine. "Look, let me make myself perfectly clear," I told her at dinner one night. "I really like you, but I'm a one woman man. I don't share with anyone. If you want to go out with me, it'll have to be on an exclusive basis. I don't want to have to wonder what you're doing when we're not together." I thought I'd made it perfectly clear, but it seems I hadn't. How many times she lied to me I'm still not sure. The issue was not the quantity—it's that she did it in the first place. That was the big issue with me. I don't even know if she slept with anyone else and looking back now, she probably didn't, but once I had it in my mind that she lied to me, she was history. It was a Friday night. Rosemary said she was getting together with a few of her girl friends to hang out. No problem. It would give me a chance to hang out with a few of my friends I'd neglected lately. On Friday nights there were normally a ton of parties on and off campus. Even if you weren't of legal drinking age there was alcohol to be had, and you didn't have to search too far, especially if you were a girl. Frat Rats is what I called them. Guys in the fraternities whose main mission in life was to get girls drunk at their parties just to have sex with them. Everyone knew what happened at those parties, especially at two of the better-known frat houses that were always in trouble with the college and usually on probation. I never went to their parties, though a lot of my friends did. As I said previously, it was guy talk. Guys have no loyalties, especially if they have the chance to get a little stray pussy. As it was told to me by one of my friends, Rosemary and three of her friends were at one of the frat parties Friday night. He said he wasn't sure if she was drunk, but she was definitely making out with one of the guys while on the makeshift dance floor. "Steve, I don't know how far she went with him, but they were going at it pretty hot and heavy for at least a half dozen songs. I didn't want to have to be the one to tell you, but I thought you should know." I was pissed. Even if she was fucking drunk she shouldn't have been making out with anyone but me. That weekend I waited for her to call me—I wasn't about to call her. Finally, Sunday morning she called. Love and Trust Two more drinks and we were ready to leave. Regina looked over at me, gave me a little wave goodbye, and we were on our way home. In the car Cindy gave me another round of shit. Jeremy knew to keep his mouth shut—he was no dummy. Cindy gave me a hug goodbye, and I went into my house with way too much on my mind. I waited almost two weeks before I called her. I still had her phone number from the accident and thought what the hell, what did I have to lose? It was Tuesday, I figured early enough to ask her out to dinner on Saturday. She had plans. The next week it was the same story, the third week I called on Monday. Guess what she said? I didn't call the following week but lo and behold, who did I see Saturday at the same club I had a month earlier? When she came over about an hour after I'd gotten there, I was ready for what was going to come next. "Evening, Steve," is how she opened her conversation, but that's all she got out of her mouth. "What, are you slumming or looking for a free drink?" I replied before she could say another word. "Because if you are, please find yourself another patsy." Damn, the words came rolling out of her mouth in both English and Spanish. She called me everything but a tall white boy. I don't think she even took in a full breath while she exploded with her second round of what I think were insults. What really pissed her off was when I turned my back on her after telling her that I had better things to do than to argue with a stuck-up woman. Now there were only a few English words being spoken as I watched her eyes get red, her cheeks get flushed, and her voice move up two octaves. I was getting tired of her never-ending tirades. We were starting to draw a crowd, I needed to end it. "Regina, if you didn't want to go out with me, all you had to say was that you don't date skinny white boys instead of giving me a line of shit. I would have understood. Lying just supports my theory that the only thing hot women care about are themselves." I was done arguing. She stormed off and the crowd that had gathered around us soon dissipated. My friends Gary and Rick just stood there looking at me. "That was so incredibly cool," Gary said, giving me a high five. "I never would have had the balls to say that to some chick. I'm still in shock she didn't slap your face or kick you in the balls, or something. My ex-girlfriend would have probably hit me with a damn chair." "Don't look now, but one hot Latin woman approaching at ten o'clock," Rick said, giving me a heads up. When she reached to me she made sure we were face to face before she started in. "For your information, I actually was busy those days and if you would have called me this week you would have found that I would have gone out with you, but now that's never going to happen." She made sure she said this with her eyes glued to mine so I couldn't turn away from her this time. "Furthermore, you're never going to get your hands on this hot body, and that will be your loss." There was no way I was going to let that slide. I retaliated back. "So tell me, what are you going to do when all your homies are done with you and have slobbered all over your hot body and left you alone in bed? Are you're going to wonder what it would have been like to go out with someone who wanted to be with you for who you are, instead of what you could do for them?" Her wide-eyed look said it all. I left that night feeling pretty good about myself knowing it wasn't my fault this time. Tuesday night I was eating dinner with my dad when my cell phone rang. I looked at the number and debated whether to answer it. "Dad, I need to take this," I told him, walking out the patio door onto the deck. "What do you want, Regina?" "A truce to start." "Okay, I'm listening." "Look, you don't know shit about me. If I said I was busy I was busy, I don't lie. And another thing, I don't allow anyone to talk to me like you did, understand? I think we got off on the wrong foot right out of the blocks. If you want to try again I'm game, if not, like I said your loss." "You keep saying that." "Well, you keep saying I look hot!" We both chuckled at that statement. "Okay, how about dinner Saturday night?" "Can't, I'm busy." "But you just said..." "I said I'm busy Saturday with a church bazaar, but not Friday." "Okay, how about us getting together Friday evening?" "I'd love to go out with you Friday night. See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" We talked for the next half hour about mostly crap or fluff, as I like to call it. She gave me her address and told me to pick her up at about seven o'clock. "Be warned, I still live at home with my parents, and you're going to get more than the once over." "I think I can handle myself." "Steve, you don't know my family." She was right. Why couldn't she have been ready and waiting for me so we could have rushed out the door? Her dad greeted me at the door with a firm handshake. Peering in I could see two other large men leaning up against the fireplace mantle in the living room. They were partially hidden by what must have been eight women all looking and watching me when I walked into the house. What did I do for a living? Was I Catholic? Where did I live, and since I live with my dad was I looking at getting my own place? And finally what did I think about kids? I'm just glad they didn't ask if I had my own teeth and proceed to check them out because at that point I would have screamed. "I warned you," Regina said when we walked out to my car. "I didn't think there were going to be so many people." "My parents, my older brothers, my grandmother, and my aunts all had questions when I told them who I was going out with. My family is very protective." "But did your dad have to take my fingerprints?" We both laughed at that one. We had a nice time. It was a little tense at times given our brief fiery history, including more than a little baggage we both were carrying around. Her ex-boyfriend had gotten her pregnant and booked when he found out. As far as she knew, he'd gone back to Puerto Rico where they both came from. Regina told me up front her three-year old daughter, Angela, came first. "Steve, what are your thoughts about dating a woman with a three-year-old child? You have to understand that sleepovers would be out of the question and it would never be just the two of us. I always have to consider Angela when we make plans. It could be complicated, and if you don't want to go any further I'd understand." "Why don't we take it a day at a time and see how it goes? I haven't been around that many kids, so it's going to be a new experience for me, but I don't scare that easily." They kicked us out of the restaurant at eleven. I was driving her home when she asked me to pull over into a parking lot about a half-mile from her house. She unbuckled her seat belt, moved over to me and gave me a kiss that melted the soles of my shoes, not to mention giving me a huge hard-on. After three more kisses she moved back over to her side of the car, fastened her seatbelt, and straightened her hair. I had a very surprised, but pleased look on my face. "Did you really think I was going to let you kiss me parked in front of my house or on my parents' doorstep with everyone staring at us? Besides, I wanted to see if you had any potential without being under pressure. Now drive, I need to get home before they send out a search party." When we got to her house, I opened her car door, walked her up to her front door, and got a peck on the lips for my trouble. Out of the corner of my eye I saw shadows moving from window to window inside the house. "They can't be this protective," I thought to myself, walking back to my car. "She's not a kid by any means. She has a daughter, for Christ's sakes." I gave her one final wave before getting into my car and driving off. All right, I knew it was a stupid thing to do and I probably would have gotten away with it, if it hadn't been for someone in her family seeing me drive by the church Saturday night. They waved at me—I waved back—then felt my stomach clench up. "Shit," I said under my breath. "You were checking up on me?" Regina shouted into the phone. Her loud, harsh words resonated in my head. "It's not what you think. I just wanted to see what you were doing." That sounded about as stupid as her saying I did a drive-by. "Then why didn't you stop in?" "Would you believe I feel a little intimidated by your family?" That was no lie. "Steve, I come from a large, close, Catholic family, and we all look out for and help one another. It's probably no different that yours." She had no idea what she was saying. "Regina, let's just say my upbringing was a little different from yours, and let it go at that. Look, if I embarrassed you in any way, I'm truly sorry." "You didn't embarrass me. It's just that I think you have some major trust issues we're going to have to deal with if I decide to go out with you again. I'm not going to lie to you and the sooner you get that through your thick skull the better. However, I will not put up with you spying or stalking me. Can you understand that? So, if you want to act like a normal person then we can go out again, if not, do not call me anymore." No question, her cards were on the table. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again. How about if I make it up to you this Saturday? You are free, aren't you?" "You're in luck. There is nothing on my calendar, not yet anyway." "Good. Pencil me in. I'm going to let you pick the restaurant this time." I'm not a racist, I'm really not, but I felt more than a little uncomfortable with the restaurant Regina picked. It was nice, the food was fantastic, but from the moment we walked through the front door all eyes were on me as if I'd come from another planet. It felt like I was on display "This is my most favorite restaurant in the whole world. They make everything from scratch and the portions are to die for." She was right about that because I couldn't even finish my meal. "If I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I can make believe I'm back home in my grandma's kitchen in Puerto Rico, eating at her big wooden kitchen table." Regina was all smiles, but looking over at a few other tables, the guys there weren't. Can you say moving in on one of their women? Then it started. It began with just an innocent question. Sadly my answer opened up a chapter of my life I had tried hard to keep closed. "Steve, when you think back, what is your most vivid memory of your childhood?" Like I said, it was an innocent question, and I think she expected some cute story of my mom baking cookies for me, something sweet and innocent, but that's not what came out of my mouth. "My mom slapping my face when I tried to stop her from walking out on my dad and me." I said it in a soft monotone voice with an expressionless face. Well, that sure as hell wiped the smile off her face. What followed was a discussion that I only ever had with Jeremy and my grandmother. I tried not to let my anger get the better of me, but my quivering voice got louder and louder. Regina finally thought it might be better if we carried on with this conversation somewhere else. I paid the check and for the next two hours we continued the conversation in the front seat of my car. It brought me back to my own personal hell. I didn't tell her everything. I gave her just enough of the highlights so she'd understand why I was the way I was— including my closeness to Jeremy. "Steve, not every woman is like your mother. Some are, but most aren't. And not every woman out there is on a mission to screw you over, believe me." I wanted to believe her, but damn, it was hard. We dated and saw each other at least one night a week over the next three and a half months. Our families were total opposites, and although I resented some of their glares, and what I thought were way too personal questions, they finally decided I was probably harmless and eased up on me, not entirely, but a little,. I was happy, Regina was happy, even Angela seemed happy to go with the flow, though still a little reserved around me. When I went to Regina's Sunday family dinners it was fun, enlightening, and a little stressful all at the same time, only because I was sure everyone's eyes were constantly on me. "Relax, you're the new flavor of the month. When my cousin Carla brought a guy with her out of the blue to church no less, no one would leave the two of them alone until they had all the dirt. Steve, women are naturally curious, unlike men. And they want to know all the juicy details." I felt better, just barely. My family never went to church, but I was expected to accompany her every Sunday. Her family still wasn't completely sure about me, and I them. This whole family thing was all new and foreign to me. When I said Regina was hot I wasn't lying. I liked the fact that I could look her right in the eye when I kissed her, and I could give her a good squeeze without worrying about her breaking. She was a fantastic kisser, with a body I wanted to explore, but she wasn't about to share, at least not yet. After getting my hand slapped away more than a few times we had a come to Jesus conversation. "Steve, I really like you. You know my past, so I hope you can understand why I'm not ready for that next step yet. I know you're getting a little frustrated," she said, sporting a wicked smile, "but think how great it'll be when we actually do it." Can you say blue balls? I told her I understood and would wait until she was ready, but not happily. What choice did I have? I'm just glad I hadn't divorced my right hand yet. Then came the day one of my hidden flaws showed its ugly head. Be it a bad case of insecurity, jealously, or just not wanting anyone touching my girlfriend, our next round of discussions cut deep into our happy relationship. You see Regina loved to dance—not liked to dance, LOVED to dance. As I mentioned I was no Fred Astair, and although I like to dance I preferred slow dances with her in my arms. Because I kept turning her down when we were at this one club, I stupidly told her, "go knock yourself out," when she asked me if I minded if she danced with a few other guys. Huge mistake. Now week after week, I was forced to watch from the sidelines as she did every dance imaginable with any Tom, Dick, or Harry who asked her. Let me rephrase that last statement, with every Emilio, Marcos, or Roberto. Some were past friends, others new friends, and the rest, well who knows. I just think they just wanted a piece of her action. It was waning on me. We had a bit of an argument especially after I told her I didn't like her dancing with every guy who asked her. I tried to explain I wasn't too happy with what she was doing. I wanted her to sit with me and listen to the music. She laughed and said that this was called a 'Dance Club' for a reason and not to worry she would dance every old person's song with me. I let her know her condescending attitude didn't amuse me. I, or should I say we, let it slide that night but I knew it wasn't over. We were on a double date with Jeremy and Cindy at one of our favorite clubs. Jeremy, like me, lasted only a couple of songs and then the girls went off to amuse themselves. Cindy came back after about a half dozen dances but Regina was nowhere to be found. After another half hour went by with no Regina, I went looking for her. She was dancing, if you could call it that, to a Salsa number. She looked hot, but that guy had his hands in places it took me over three months to put mine without getting slapped. By the time that song ended the next one had started, so I never had a chance to cut in. I waited for that song to end and made my move. I cut in, and by the time the song had ended I was the most embarrassed guy on the floor. All right, I'm a shitty dancer, but Regina danced around me highlighting what I already knew and now everyone else did, too. Then she did the inexcusable, she laughed at me. Whether it was because of the way I moved on the floor or I just looked comical, it made no difference. The final insult came when another one of her friends whisked her away when the music started again leaving me on the dance floor—alone—while everyone danced around me. The only word I can use to describe how I felt was humiliated. I watched her float around the floor with her new partner, dirty dancing with him. Making my way back to our table I was livid. I had reached the limit of my patience. I slammed down two more beers watching Regina go from guy to guy. However, one guy in particular was monopolizing her time on the floor. My anger grew, and the beers I was throwing down weren't doing me any good trying to control it. "Steve, relax, they're just dancing," Cindy said, watching the top of my head blow off seeing this guy gave Regina a kiss on the lips when the music stopped. I almost made it to the dance floor before the music started again, but that didn't happen, she and her new dance partner disappeared somewhere on the crowded dance floor. "I don't need this shit," I mumbled, walking back to the table. I slammed my beer down, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the door. "Steve," Cindy called out to me, but I never turned around. Jeremy followed me out the door. "You know this is going to piss her off, don't you?" he said outside the club. "I see your point, and she probably did go overboard tonight, but you getting pissed and leaving her here isn't going to solve anything. Besides, you are already half in the bag and shouldn't be driving. Come back in and cool off. At least take a cab home." "If I stay here any longer she's not going to like what I have to say when she finally does decide to honor me with her presence. You can drive her home unless she decides to go home with one of her many dance partners." I don't think either he or anyone else could have convinced me to stay. I felt like everyone in there was laughing at me for the way Regina was acting and treating me. She had come with me, hadn't she? Driving home drunk was a totally stupid thing to do. When I staggered in through the front door my dad took one look at me and let me have it with both barrels. "If I ever even think you've been driving drunk again I'll call the cops on your ass myself. I don't care if you kill yourself, it's the poor son of a bitch you take with you I'm concerned about." I tried to explain why I'd done it, but he said it made no difference to him. "If you can't hold onto your girl that's your own damn fault." That's when the five beers I drank that night got me into a whole lot more trouble. "Is that what happened to you and Mom? She went looking for someone better?" I knew as soon as I said it I crossed the line. I may have thought it over the years; it's just that I never before had been stupid enough to say it. I didn't see the punch, but I sure as hell felt it. I went down like a ton of bricks. "You don't know shit, you hear me?" he screamed at me. "Your mother was a fucking whore and still is. I treated that woman like a fucking queen and she stabbed me in the back time and time again. You're just as ungrateful as she was, and I want your ass out of my fucking house by next week. Do you hear me?" I did, but it wasn't completely registering since I was three sheets to the wind, and unsuccessfully trying to clear my head. My dad went off in a huff leaving me lying on the kitchen floor. Life wasn't looking so good right now. When you get your back up, it's hard to listen to reason, even if you know it's the right advice. I found a small apartment close to work and took off Wednesday to move. My dad wouldn't talk to me, and Regina? Well, she didn't call either. I guess she was as angry at me as I was at her about Saturday night. Love and Trust Jeremy helped me get my remaining items out of my dad's place Wednesday night. Just before walking out, I took the house and garage key off of my key ring and left them both on the kitchen counter. Now I truly had no family. "Give him a couple of days, he'll come around," Jeremy said. I knew, though, this was something that could be a real deal breaker. When, after three weeks, he hadn't returned any of my messages, I pretty much gave up. After that, Regina and I had a huge blow-up about her attitude, and what I saw as her disrespecting me that Saturday night. She ended up telling me to go fuck myself. Life really was not looking good right now, and it was about to get worse. I was alone and for the first time I didn't have to answer to anyone but myself, and maybe my new boss. Cindy thought I was being a total jerk to pretty much everyone. When I told her to get the hell off my back, Jeremy and I had our first real argument in twenty years. He was upset that I had put him in the middle, and although he understood how I felt, he was in love with Cindy. I made it easy for him. He didn't have to choose sides, I stopped calling him too. I started hanging out with a new group from work. It was a mix of both women and men who loved to party, especially on the weekends. I started forcing myself out on the dance floor, and in doing so I think my skin got an inch thicker. I no longer cared what people thought about me on and off the dance floor, and maybe for once I got a little bit more of a backbone. I saw her dancing up a storm with more than a couple of guys. She knew I was there because on several occasions I caught her looking my way. I danced more than I normally would have, especially when they played a slow song. We were playing a stupid game and we both knew it. I just didn't know which one of us would take it to the next level. I didn't see her walk up because I had my back to the dance floor, but everyone else at our table did. "Steve, do you want to dance?" she said, with not even a hint of a smile or any warmth. "Regina, didn't you humiliate me enough the last time around, or do you just want to show everyone here how much better a dancer you are than me? I'm sure you can find a lot better partners, you never seemed to have a problem before." "You're really an ass, you know that? And for your information, it wasn't anything like what you just said." I could see her group of friends watching us, one guy in particular. "Thanks for asking, but no thanks. I wouldn't want your new guy to get the idea I was moving in on his territory." I am not sure what I saw in her eyes, but what was on her face was pure anger as she turned around and stomped back to where her friends were sitting. I was getting bored with the whole club scene. I liked listening to the music. It was just that the crowds, the smoke, and the pressure I was putting on myself to be someone I wasn't made it much less fun each time I went. I watched him walk towards our table but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was the guy at Regina's table who had been giving me the evil eye, but with the bar right behind me I figured he was headed for it. He didn't look angry, he wasn't a bruiser, he wasn't even making eye contact. Looking back I should have been on my guard, but hell this is a dance club, for Christ's sakes. One of the last things I remember was seeing him pull something shiny out of his jacket pocket with his right hand. He never said a word when he walked up to me, he didn't plan to. The pain in my stomach was sharp and intense. Operating on instinct, I pushed him away and saw the knife in his hand was covered with blood—my blood—I think at that moment I was in shock. Someone at my table screamed, and with me holding my guts in with both hands, I dropped to my knees, then collapsed on to my face on the dirty floor. I'm told the place went totally wild. My table pelted the guy with bottles, not wanting him to get within arms reach of me again. They watched him struggle to get away before a bouncer grabbed hold of his sorry ass. Never try to hurt a six foot six, three hundred and fifty pound man with an attitude even if you have a switchblade. Someone said the bouncer almost ripped his arm off. Me? I was on the floor for no more than five minutes, before being put on a stretcher by the paramedics and carried out to a waiting ambulance. I didn't have a clue what exactly happened because I had passed out. Even after I woke up in the hospital I still wasn't sure what had gone down. The room was dark and for a split second when I first opened my eyes I thought I was blind. When I started focusing I was thankful until I felt the pain, then it all came rushing back to me. At least I was still alive. How in the hell do they know at the nurses station when someone wakes up, magic? Within seconds I had a nurse taking my vitals and asking me how I felt. I was stabbed, how did she think I felt? Some questions don't even rate an answer. She said I was lucky, I would have to spend another couple of days in the hospital, but after that I would probably be discharged. I wanted to know about the guy who went looking for what I'd eaten that morning in my stomach. She informed me the two policemen outside my door would answer all my questions. It was the usual questions I'd seen on most of the cop shows on television: Did I know him? Had I seen him before? Did he say anything to me before he did it, and finally the big one, why? "I think he was angry with me because of the argument I had with my ex-girlfriend." I gave them the nickel version. "All this because I dance like a clumsy white boy? I've got to take lessons when I get my ass out of here." I said, shaking my head in disbelief. They weren't laughing and saw no humor in it—neither did I. "Your assailant is currently in custody, being charged with assault with a deadly weapon. When we review the facts the charge may possibly be upgraded to attempted murder." I liked the word attempted. I finished giving my statement, signed it, and they left saying they'd be in touch. I must have fallen back to sleep. When I woke next the room was dark. "You didn't have to go to this extreme to get me to talk to you," a voice out of the darkness said. My dad got up from a chair in the corner of the room and sat down in the one next to my bed. "I'm sorry," I started to say before he stopped me. "We'll talk later when you're out of here. I called your boss at home. Said he already knew about it. He told me to tell you not to worry about your job, to just get well. The doctor said you're going to be sore for a while but nothing vital got cut, you were damn lucky. You lost a lot of blood. Luckily a couple of your friends applied a wet compress to make sure you didn't bleed to death before the paramedics got there. I think you'll need to pick up a few dry cleaning bills and maybe buy someone a dress that was used for the compress. Anyway, you're alive and kicking. For that I am grateful. Maybe next time you'll learn to keep your mouth shut and your head out of your ass." My dad always had a way with words. That's when the doctor came into my room. "Good evening, Mr. Moore, how are you feeling?" he asked, looking at my chart. "Son, I've got to go and make a few more calls. I'll catch up with you later." My dad started walking out of my room, I called out to him. "Love you, Dad!" "Love you too, son. Get some rest and I'll see you soon." The doctor started again. "You were very fortunate. Like I told your father and your wife, an inch further in either direction, and we would have had major complications." "Excuse me, Doctor. You said my dad and my wife?" "Your wife came in on the ambulance with you. Steve, you probably don't remember, you were pretty much out of it. Please explain to her that hospital policy dictates we destroy anything that comes into the hospital that has been contaminated with blood as in the case of her skirt. First time I ever saw a beer soaked silk compress, but it must have worked because you're still here. I will be back to see you later today." "My wife?" I repeated silently to myself "I leave you alone for a couple of weeks and you're out there pissing off some local gang banger. I think for Christmas I'm going to get you a Kevlar vest, then just maybe I won't have to come down to the hospital in the middle of the night to rag on you. And you don't even want to hear what Cindy had to say." Jeremy smiled. "Well, now that we've got that out of the way bro, how you feeling?" "Just fucking great. At least now I know what a shish kabob feels like." We laughed. We apologized to one another and brought each other up to speed. "So you're married now, does she know?" "Very funny. However, there is only one girl I know whose got balls big enough to pull that one off." "I thought the two of you broke up?" "We did, or at least I thought we did. When she asked me to dance and I turned her down, she got upset. That's when her hommie decided to open me up a bit." "Well, you'll be out of here soon. Just think of the story you get to tell your kids some day. And if you're lucky, you'll have a great looking scar—the women will love it. It'll be, 'Oh poor, poor, Steve,' all the way to your bedroom. You'll probably get more pussy now than you ever dreamed of." I doubted that. Jeremy stuck around for about another twenty minutes before saying something about dinner and needing to get a few hours of much needed of sleep before going to work tomorrow. Just before he made his exit he warned me of his next visit. "I'll bring Cindy with me tomorrow night. She says she has a few choice words for you." Be still my heart. That's just what I needed, another woman ragging on me. I told him to wait until I got out of here before bringing Cindy over. I hoped to be home by Wednesday night at the latest. That is if I lived through all my visitors. The doctor returned just after a not-too-good hospital dinner, announcing I was doing as well as could be expected and would see me tomorrow. I slept great Sunday night, the best sleep I'd had in months. I guess a lot of it had to do with the amount of drugs I had in my system. I'm sure I was checked on a couple of times during the night, but I never knew it. I woke up hungry, happy, and if it weren't for the stitches in my abdomen, I would have loved to have taken a walk around the park. Legal drugs are wonderful, aren't they? By Wednesday late morning I was in my apartment, bored, and ready to go back to work. "Just don't overdo it," were the only instructions the doctor left me with. I had one final follow-up appointment in a week and then I was on my own. Get-well cards and cookies covered my desk my first day back at work. I was the center of attention for all of the first two hours. After everyone's curiosity was satisfied, it was back to normal except for a few final well wishers who occasionally stopped by. I'd left three e-mails and two calls to Regina to thank her for all her help, but got no replies. When Cindy came over the following night, and after reading me the riot act for the third or fourth time, she said she had talked to Regina. "She's sorry about what happened and feels responsible. After your blow-up she went back to her friends and basically told them what an ass you'd been to her. One of the group, a guy she'd only met once before, took it that you had disrespected her and decided to teach you manners, as he put it." "Manners! The son of a bitch almost killed me. Nice people she hangs with." "Steve, Regina said that even though she didn't know this guy from Adam, she still feels partly to blame." "She should." "After all this, didn't you learn anything? You moron, she likes you. Why? I haven't a clue. You got your little ego hurt and maybe she wasn't paying enough attention to you, but weren't you the one who told her she could dance with all those guys because you were too lame on the dance floor?" "Dance with them, yes. But she let them put their hands all over her. That's not dancing, that's mauling" "Did you talk to her about it? No, you just got angry and walked away, how in the hell was she supposed to know? Between your hot temper and hers, the two of you are going to have to learn to talk not yell at one another. Steve, girls are smart, but we're not mind readers. Call her and explain in a calm, quiet voice why you got angry. I know she'll listen." "Tried, but she's not taking my calls or returning my e-mails. I think it's about time I move on with my life." "For what the fourth, fifth, or maybe sixth time? When are you going to get it through your thick skull that one of these days you're going to have to take a chance on someone? People are human. We all make mistakes, including you. If you want to be by yourself for the rest of your life just keep walking away every time life throws you a curve, or you start to feel a little uncomfortable. Take a chance and maybe—just maybe—you won't be disappointed." "Cindy, maybe you didn't hear me, she's not taking my calls!" "Steve, you're not a cripple are you? And correct me if I'm wrong, you still have a car and know where she lives? Suck it up, show her you have some balls for a change." I tried Friday and Saturday without much luck. At one point I thought she actually had picked up my call but a second later I heard that familiar dial tone. I took Cindy's advice. Saint Paul's Catholic church has five services on Sunday. I knew she wouldn't be at the seven or eight o'clock service because of Angela, which left me the nine fifteen, ten thirty, and the noon masses. I camped out front on the church steps and waited. I struck out on the nine fifteen mass but hit pay dirt when I saw Regina and her entire family coming up the sidewalk at ten minutes after ten. I'd gone over in my mind what I wanted to say, but seeing her I forgot about ninety percent of it. She saw me standing there and looked over at the rest of her family, it didn't look good. She didn't even acknowledge my presence. She just walked by me and into the church. I followed her in, sitting down in a pew four rows back from her. My family never went to mass. Hell, up until I met Regina I'd only seen the inside of a church for weddings and funerals. When I went with her, I followed what everyone did. I stood, kneeled, and sat when everyone else did. Today an elderly woman next to me handed me a prayer book and showed me what page we were on. She smiled at me and went back to reading her own hymnal. Even with her head lowered, I know she saw me when she came back up the aisle after getting her cracker, or whatever they were giving away up at the altar. Fifteen minutes later the service was over and everyone started leaving the church. I lost track of her a couple of times, there were so many people and everyone was talking to everyone else. I caught up with her when she was halfway down the stairs. "Regina!" She stopped—crap—everyone stopped. "Steve, what do you want?" "I just need to talk to you." "Didn't you say enough last time?" "Please, just give me ten minutes. That's all I'm asking for, and after that I'll leave alone if you want me to." By the look on her face I couldn't tell what she was thinking. Her mom whispered something to her, then looked up at me. "Come on, I'm not going to have this conversation in front of God and everyone," Regina said. I followed her to her car. "I assume you still know where I live?" I nodded, yes. "Follow me and we can talk there." I did as instructed even though I didn't like the thought of having this conversation with the whole family there. "Momma, I'll be out back for a bit. Make sure Angela stays inside, will you?" "Will Steve be staying for lunch?" Regina looked at me. "I'll let you know shortly." She stormed out the back door with me a step behind her. We walked into the backyard, and I'd like to say away from everyone's prying eyes, but that sure as hell didn't happen. "Okay. Talk. You've got ten minutes," she instructed with an attitude, her arms crossed in front of her. "I'm sorry, I must be taking up too much of your precious time," I said, turning to walk away. "I've been dictated to all my life and I'm pretty much sick of it. I guess we really don't have anything to say to one another after all." "Damn it, Steve, just talk to me. I have no idea what happened between us. We were good, then you bailed on me, it made no sense." I spent the next fifteen minutes explaining to Regina why I was so angry with her. "You never said a word to me. Why not?" "I did, or at least tried to a couple of times. Couldn't you see how angry I was that night? Hell, I must have been beet red with steam coming out of my damn ears, yet all you did was ignore me." "Steve, maybe I did ignore you a little, but it was never intentional, you've got to believe that." "The next time I saw you I told you I felt like you had humiliated me out there on the dance floor. I became the laughing stock of all your friends." I made sure I enunciated those last few words. "Those guys had their hands all over you, and you did nothing to stop them. And when the music stopped I saw your last partner gave you a kiss, I finally had enough, and just lost it. You were supposed to be with me, not them." "I was with you." "No, Regina, you weren't. Cindy came back to the table in a half hour, back to Jeremy. After another half hour I had to physically find you, and then you still didn't come back. If I wanted to be treated like shit, I could have stayed with one of my ex-girlfriends. I thought you were somehow different." After that statement there was this huge moment of silence. "But I do want to thank you for what you did that night. I guess without your skirt I may have bled to death." Now came the tears, hers not mine. "I'm sorry. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that guy would do what he did. There was so much blood and everyone was more concerned about him than you. The only thing I could think of was to stop the bleeding. That's when I used my skirt. Someone poured beer on it saying the alcohol would keep the wound from getting infected." We looked at each other and broke up laughing at that statement. After a few seconds, she continued. "Hey, what do I know? If you'll recall, it was a little chaotic at that point—it worked, didn't it?" "I guess I owe you a skirt. And by the way, how did we get married from the last time we talked until I was loaded into the ambulance?" "They weren't going to let me come so I just said we were married," she said casually. "One of the paramedics gave me a blanket to cover up, and away we went. I didn't have answers to all their questions so I fished out your wallet and gave them your insurance cards. That's when I saw the card with the list of phone numbers and called your dad. I met him at the entrance to the emergency room and told him everything I knew. You were already in surgery so we just waited together. When the doctor came out and asked for Mrs. Moore we kind of looked at each other. The doctor said you were going to be okay but would need to say in the hospital for about two to three days. After he left, your dad and I had a little talk. He told me to go home and he would call me after he saw you." "But you never returned my calls." "I figured you just wanted to yell at me some more. I already felt bad enough as it was. I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you." We were now holding hands, looking at one another, but saying nothing. "Regina, honey, lunch is on the table," her mom yelled out the back door." "Are you hungry?" she asked. "For food, no," I replied, kissing her. We had lunch with her entire family. Afterwards we grabbed Angela and headed to the park. While Angela played we set down the ground rules for going forward. Love and Trust No more arguments, or should I say no more walking away from arguments. If we had a problem with the other it was to be addressed and handled immediately. When we went out together we were together, unless we both agreed otherwise. Dancing was one thing—being screwed and tattooed on the dance floor was an entirely different matter. The next two were going to be the hardest for me. "Steve, you have to trust me if we've got any chance at making it. You have to believe I have only your best interests at heart and will never—I repeat never—cheat on you. But you have to promise to do something for me that you may not like doing. " I was getting a little uncomfortable. "You have to make peace with both your dad and your mother. You can see them separately or together, but it needs to be done." I couldn't believe what she was asking of me. "Hell, no! No way, no how. I don't have a problem with my dad, we've already talked and we're okay, but my mom, that's a whole other can of worms. I don't even have a clue where she's living." "It shouldn't be too hard to find that out. You're smart, computer savvy, and still know her last name, how hard can it be?" "What's the point? I haven't seen or spoken to her in years. I have absolutely zero interest in seeing her again." "Those two made you who you are now, and you need to confront, or should I say talk to the both of them. There are too many unresolved issues and open wounds. You're not that little five-year-old kid anymore, and you need to close that chapter of your life forever. Forgive them and move on with your life, which hopefully me and Angela will be part of." She was asking a lot, but I knew she was right about this. Regina didn't want to be there, but I insisted. Be it good or bad, if we were going to move forward together I wanted her to meet the two people responsible for molding me into what I was. It took a week for my dad to agree to a sit down meeting with my mom. I wanted to see them together. First, I did not want to have to go through this more than once, and secondly I didn't think anything could be resolved unless they also made peace with each other. He finally relented as long as it was on his terms and only if we agreed to do it at his house, something about home turf. And my mother? Well, she agreed almost immediately, something about wanting to see me again. So on Saturday at two o'clock in the afternoon, with nothing stronger than ice tea to drink, we all sat down in my dad's living room. You could have cut the tension with a knife. My dad had moved the living room furniture around so everyone would be sitting in a big circle around a large coffee table. This way you could see everyone without being close enough to touch anyone. Before we started I introduced Regina to my mom. My dad already knew her, having met her that night in the hospital. I told them it was my idea to have her there and that her presence and support was important to me. After the "pleasantries" were over I began. "I know this is hard for everyone, but it's long overdue," Everyone seemed to be either playing with their drink or nervously fidgeting in their seat. "We may not all like each other, but we've all got a common denominator, me. Mom, Dad, I don't know what transpired between the two of you nor do I care at this particular point anymore, but what your actions did was to scar a five year old boy in ways you can't even begin to imagine." I turned to address my father. "Dad, telling me to suck it up and be a man might have worked for you, but I went from living in what I thought was a happy home to one with a hard ass father and an overly protective grandmother. The only thing you taught me was to keep my guard up because someone was always going to fuck me over given the chance. Up until only a short time ago I believed you, that is until I met someone who has only my best interests at heart." I gave Regina's hand a squeeze. Then it was my mom's turn. "Mom, what you did to Dad and me was inexcusable. You don't bail on your child. If you and Dad weren't getting along that was your problem. I can see you thought your only way out was to leave, but leaving the way you did tore my heart out. You are my mother, you were supposed to love me, not leave me! All those promises you made that we would be together again were like giving me a taste of candy and then pulling it away. It got to the point where I felt you no longer wanted to see me anymore. You were building your new life without me being a part of it. How long has it been since you last spoke to me, six, seven years? How many phone calls, cards, and birthdays did you miss? And why? Didn't you—don't you—care about me anymore, or were you—are you—just too ashamed you'd let it go this long?" The tears were falling as my mother tried but failed to get the words out, so I continued. "No matter what, you're still my mom, and nothing can ever change that. But going forward how much you're going to be in my life depends on what happens here today. Both of you need to realize one thing, I don't need either of you in my life. I want you there, but I no longer need your support or acceptance. We're all getting older and one of these days I'm going to get married and probably have kids. I want the two of you to be part of all our lives, and I think—I hope—you do too." That opened up a round table discussion. For the next hour, 'I'm sorry' was the phrase of the moment. My dad talked, not yelled, at my mom for the first time since the day she walked out on us. They were never going to get back together or even be friends for that matter, but if they could at least remain civil towards one another I could accept that. For the first time I found out that my mom had remarried and was happy, but would give anything to have me back in her life. My dad was still bitter and when he started hashing up old issues. I put an immediate stop to it. "Dad, this is about me—or should I say the three of us—not you and Mom. If the two of you want to go at it again, please wait until Regina and I leave, then you can tear the house down if that's what you want to do." I'd gotten control back. When things settled down again, I let Regina tell them a little bit about herself. She explained to them about our rocky relationship, adding that she was committed to it. She told them she felt this discussion was important if the relationship was really going to flourish. In the two hours we talked, issues were resolved, and get togethers were planned especially around the holidays. Though total peace wasn't established, at least the hatchet wasn't buried in someone's skull this time around. We all hugged one another. Exhausted and emotionally drained, but with smiles, we called it a day. Driving back to her parents' house Regina let me know how she felt about what had just taken place at my dad's. "Stephen Moore, I am so proud of you. You're a strong, wonderful, caring man, and I'm so glad I'm with you." "How glad are you?" I said with a wicked smile. "Drive on. We don't have time for what you're thinking about. Remember you promised Angela we'd take her shopping and out to dinner if she was good." "I think I'd rather have her mother bad, and in my bed right now." She wasn't taking the bait. "There'll be plenty of time for that, but later." I pouted, even though I knew it would do me no good. Regina's mother's eyes wanted to know it all when we walked through the front door, but she held her tongue. I figured she and Regina would talk later. We grabbed Angela and headed to the mall in less than five minutes. Regina and I each picked out an outfit for Angela. Personally, I think my choice looked a whole lot better on her. I paid for both outfits and dinner at Pizza Hut. It had been a long day for all of us, and we were all pretty well drained from it. After Regina put Angela to bed we sat out in her backyard holding one another and sneaking in a few kisses when we thought no one was looking. At nine o'clock after a very nice kiss I decided to call it a night. "I want to go to the nine fifteen service, so be here no later than a quarter to nine," she announced, walking me out to my car. With one more kiss I headed for home for some much needed sleep. "Where is Angela?" I asked the following morning. "She's going with my mother to the ten thirty mass. It's just you and me this morning." Everyone knew everyone else. It was more like a social gathering outside the big Catholic Church with everyone updating everyone else about what had occurred during the week. I wasn't a fixture, but I could tell they all knew who I was, probably knowing more than I cared for them to know. It was the same on our way out. Saying goodbye to everyone and telling them we would see them next week took at least fifteen minutes. With Regina next to me in the front seat she announced she wanted to stop at one of the local bakeries. She picked out a couple of items we both liked and got us each a cappuccino. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have breakfast at your apartment for a change." Did I mind? Hell no! I lived for the time when I could get her all to myself, which wasn't often enough. It was nice, sipping on coffee and enjoying the warmth of a nice summer Sunday morning during the ten-minute drive to my place. Relaxed is what I felt. We walked hand-in-hand into my apartment. Arms, lips, and tongues are what I was greeted with when I turned around after shutting the door. There was no discussion, no idle conversation, or any of the like. Regina had her own agenda for this morning and it wasn't breakfast. I was just thankful my bedroom wasn't as messy as it usually is. Breakfast was delayed by about two hours that morning. Do you know what it's like to have a curvy woman in your arms? Wonderful! Full breasts, hips, an ass that could take a pounding, and a mouth that made me forget every other lover I had ever had. I had expected this to happen sooner than later, but after yesterday I thought we'd just be talking again this morning, working out the rest of our issues. I guess this morning there weren't any pressing issues to work out. When I went down on her neatly trimmed pussy I wasn't sure exactly what to expect. Regina wasn't as vocal as I thought she would be. I wasn't sure she was even breathing until I put her long clit in between my lips and started sucking and nibbling on it. After climaxing the first time, her hands never left the top of my head as she guided me to every fold and crevice that needed a little attention. After two orgasms she pulled me up to her face by my head and we exchanged spit for the next ten minutes. Some women I've known thought it was gross to taste themselves on my lips, but Regina wasn't one of them. So maybe I don't have ten inches of hard steel and maybe I'm not as big around as a Coke can but I get the job done. It might have been my insecurity showing through, but I was out to prove to her that I was the best lover she had ever had. I did everything by the numbers and even had to think about my ugly fifth grade teacher when I was about ready to shoot off before Regina had. As soon as I felt her let loose, I gave her the load I'd been saving just for her for the last four months. When she climaxed I thought she'd cracked a couple of my ribs with her legs tightly wrapped around me. She was still pushing up against me twenty seconds after we'd both finished. I was starting to shrink and beginning to feel the discomfort from leaning on my elbows for so long not wanting to crush her with my weigh, when she suddenly rolled me over on my back. "That was nice, that was really nice," she said, licking my lips and then inhaling them. "Nice?" Nice, I thought to myself thinking I'd given it my best shot and it was only NICE? I think I at least rated a 'great' or maybe even a 'wonderful.' Nice didn't seem to cut it for me right now. My male ego had taken a shot and I think Regina picked up on my dilemma. "That was the nicest and most gentle lovemaking I've ever experienced. I felt so close to you that if I would have been any closer I would have been inside you." "Well, that's good because I only want one of us inside at a time." It was a stupid joke, which earned me a punch in the arm, but also another kiss. "I need a shower and so do you. We can't very well go back to my mom's place smelling like sex, can we?" "I don't know, why don't we try it and see what happens." "Let's see, a close, overly protective, and extremely traditional Catholic family on one hand, and a guy who they are just starting to trust, bringing their daughter back from church smelling like they've been screwing all night? You'd be dead before you made it back to your car." She was smiling, but I'd lost my erection as she pulled me towards the bathroom. "Regina, they know you're not a virgin. They must figure you're doing it at least a little." "Steve, thinking it and having it thrust in their faces are two entirely different scenarios. If they don't see it, they don't worry about it. They trust their daughter." We got each other off again in the shower without killing ourselves, but it was touch and go when she pulled the shower curtain down. After devouring our breakfast—sex sure works up an appetite—we headed out to Regina's house. I held the car door open for her, she got in, adjusted her seat belt, fluffed up her hair, and was looking in her vanity mirror putting on some lipstick when I moved over, kissed her, and just before I turned on the car engine I proceeded to further complicate matters. Without thinking I nonchalantly announced, "I love you." Just as nonchalantly I started the car, began heading out of the parking lot when she yelled, "STOP!" She leaned over and turned my car off. "What the hell did you just say to me?" I unfastened my seat belt, reached over to a surprised Regina, kissed her on the lips, and said again I loved her. I restarted my car and took off for the second time. "Steve, we have to talk about this." "I know, but is this the time or place?" "Well, my parents' house sure as hell isn't the place." "Just answer me one question, do you care for me?" "Yes, but..." she started to say when I stopped her. "There are no buts. I care for you, you care for me, what else matters?" "Well, I can think of one person that comes immediately to mind." "Regina, you and Angela are a package. I've know that from day one and you didn't see me heading for the hills, did you? There are probably going to be a lot of issues but together we'll tackle them one at a time. If we love each other the rest is just superfluous bullshit." She didn't quite agree with me because right now she was up there somewhere in the clouds. "We need to talk, just not at Momma's house. I still don't know where you want to take this, and your ideas and mine may not be the same." "Well, we could turn around and head back to my place. Only I'm warning you once I got you back inside, I would have other things on my mind." "Just like a guy. Give him a taste and he wants to make a steady diet of it." We looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Just drive, Mom is expecting us for lunch." Lunch was good as always. And like always they kept pushing food at me and then looked disappointed when I refused it. "How you going to gain weight if you don't eat, you're skin and bones," her mother would say, putting this or that on my plate. Regina couldn't take her eyes off me, especially when I was talking with either her mother or grandmother. When I let my hands wander a bit she'd elbow me, her eyes saying her family was watching. "You want to give them a show they won't soon forget?" I whispered in her ear. The look I got in return said no way, no how. I kept my hands to myself. Regina's grandmother was sitting to my other side. Just guessing, she had to be at least eighty, but could have been ninety for all I knew. She was spry but thin, and looked old. During dessert she leaned over to me and pointed at my plate. "You like this?" she said, referring to the dessert. "Yes, it's very good," I said, with a smile on my face, trying to be overly polite. "I made it," she replied, puffing up her chest. This was followed by another proclamation. "My granddaughter is a beautiful woman, no?" "Yes, she is." I looked to my other side at Regina who was talking to someone on the other side of her. "Since you're already sleeping with her, don't you think it's time the two of you got married?" With that business out of the way, she put the last fork full of her dessert into her mouth. I only choked a little, reaching over for my tea to wash down what was left in my mouth. My mind was racing. How could she know? Shit we had only done it for the first time this morning. Was she a witch or something? When Grandma swallowed what was left in her mouth she picked up right where she left off. "The way the two of you look at each other reminds me of my late husband. He was never satisfied, that man could go on for hours. How I ever got anything done with him around still mystifies me." I looked over at Regina and mouthed the word HELP hoping she would understand my meaning. "Well, I hope it's soon, I'm not getting any younger, you know, and I'd hate to die before it happens." With that she patted my arm. I was very glad when Regina came to my rescue. "Grandma, I've got to introduce Steve to Aunt Clare before she leaves." "No problem sweetheart, Steve and I were just getting to know each other a little bit better." When Grandma's eyes met mine they said it all. "You didn't tell anyone we had sex before we got here, did you?" "Steve, do you think I'm nuts. I sure as hell don't have a death wish, do you?" "Well, your Grandmamma said that since we're having sex, I should make an honest woman out of you. That, along with a brief history of her sex life with your grandfather. Holy shit, way too much information." Regina was now laughing into her hands. "Go ahead and laugh, you saw I almost choked on my custard. Think how cute that would have been with her giving me mouth to mouth. Yuck!" "The only one who is going to be giving you mouth to mouth is me." With a quick look to make sure no one was looking she gave me a big kiss. It was kind of spooky, but every Sunday Grandma kept her eyes on me, especially if I was with either Angela or Regina. My discussions with Regina became more serious and included all topics, including Angela. Would I adopt her if we got married? Would I become Catholic? Where would we live? How many kids did I want? These were all questions she wanted answers to, only sometimes I had none. Things were progressing rapidly, and it was scaring the hell out of me. We double dated a lot with Jeremy and his wife, Cindy. They'd taken the plunge last year and wondered why I was dragging my feet. My family was closer than it had been in years. I made it a point to talk to both my dad and my mom weekly. We were working on our relationships but sometimes it was like pulling teeth. It was hard to recapture so much lost time in a few months. But I was about to shake things up again. It happened Sunday, March fourteenth. Regina and I were as compatible as anyone I'd ever met. Work was going great, and for once I was happy with my life. My lease was coming due the first of May and I'd already told them I wasn't going to renew. Instead of replacing my ten-year-old car, I got the engine rebuilt and a few other things done so it was good for another hundred thousand miles—I had better things to do with my money. Often there were twenty to twenty-five plus people at her mom's most Sundays after church. It was potluck and everyone brought something to share for the meal. Regina and I had stopped off at the bakery after church and picked up four loaves of freshly baked Cuban bread. They were still hot when we put them in the back seat next to Angela. In the trunk of my car I had a large cooler of ice and a few other items I'd need a bit later.