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.