Trust

Thursday afternoon I was in the sandwich shop across the street from Becky's office building. She walked out the building alone and headed north on Broadway before entering the Marriott. Just as I entered the lobby Becky and a man were walking up to the reception desk and talking to the front desk clerk. I could not believe my eyes. How could this be happening to me again? I was nearly sick to my stomach as I walked up to the two of them.

"You cheating, lying bitch!"

Becky turned around and looked at me. I don't think the expression on her face would have been different if I had shot her with a gun. The man she was with looked at me and asked, "Who is this?"

Before Becky could answer his question a second man approached wearing a Marriott name badge. He stared, confused, at the three of us, but before anyone could say another word, Becky ran out of the lobby. Things were happening too fast, but I read the name badge of the second man. "Greg Huston, Catering Manager" and then looked back at the first man.

The first man broke the silence, "I understand, you're Mark. I'm Jon Riley, the person Becky hired to coordinate your surprise 30th birthday party here at the Marriott. I think you just really fucked it all up."

Becky never returned my calls after that day. A week later I woke up and found a box of the things I left at her apartment on the stoop in front of my townhouse. There was a note inside that simply read, "I don't want anything I left in your home, give it all to charity. Becky"

For the next six months I went into a funk. I ate, slept and went to work. One afternoon I decided to go out and attend Portland's annual craft beer festival on the riverfront. Just my luck to run into Becky there, she was with a guy and they were obviously a couple. After introducing us Becky asked him if she could have a word with me. To his credit her boyfriend said yes.

"Mark, sorry I never talked to you again, but at the time I was so hurt and so angry. I called my mother that night and she told me you were damaged goods and to run for my life. I listened to my mother's advice and left you alone."

"Becky, I wish I could get mad at you for how it ended, but unfortunately I think your mother's right. I am more damaged by Debbie's betrayal than I imagined. I'm sorry I called you names in that hotel lobby, you didn't deserve that and I was an ass."

"Mark, get help. You're too good a person to live the rest of your life alone because one person broke your trust. Find someone who can help you, whether it's a counsellor or priest or whomever. I'm sorry I wasn't the person to make you whole again, we almost had something."

"Thanks for the advice, I think you're right, I need to get my act together. Thank your boyfriend for giving us the opportunity to speak. You deserve a guy that trusts you enough to do that. Say hello to your mom for me and tell her what I said. She raised a beautiful woman and her instincts were correct."

We walked away from each other and I saw moisture in her eyes, I had to turn around quickly before she saw my tears.

So where do you go when you need to resynch and get your life back on track? Where I should have gone when my marriage fell apart. I took three weeks of vacation and headed home to Chicago. Time to play the prodigal son.

Mom still lived in the house we grew up in on the north side of the city. I was the only one of her children to move out of the area, so she wasn't lonely; my older sister had two kids and my younger brother had three, I used to tease him that his wife was a regular baby machine, three kids before his 30th birthday. With five grandkids nearby mom stayed busy, but I knew she missed having me around; although I can't imagine why since she always claimed I was the reason for her gray hair.

The second day in town mom invited my siblings and their families for a big sit down feast. She served my favorite meal, her homemade lasagna and my favorite dessert, her chocolate cheese cake. Like I said, prodigal son stuff. I played the long lost uncle and gave each of my nieces and nephews some expensive electronic gift that most of them were too young to use. You could see their parents' eyes rolling at my stupidity, but I think they appreciated the sentiment.

After everyone left mom and I did the dishes together and had a chance to chat. Mom wasn't one to dispense advice, that was always dad's job, but mom always knew what to do.

"Your buddy Hank Taylor still stops by from time to time. He asks how you are. When's the last time you two talked?"

"Not as often as we should and before you say it - yes, it's probably my fault we don't communicate more often."

"Give him a call."

Hank was my best friend from the time we met in kindergarten until the time I left for college. From K-12 we were inseparable, in little league he was the pitcher and I was the catcher, for six years of football, he was the quarterback and I was his wide receiver.

I quit baseball our freshman year since I was at best a mediocre hitter and the track coach noticed during PE class my aptitude for the pole vault and high jump. I quit football after our junior year because my father was concerned I'd get hurt and ruin my chances at a college track scholarship. I was one of the top high school pole vaulters in the nation as a junior and the University of Oregon was set to recruit me.

My father's decision to keep me out of football had a negative effect on Hank's life. Our football team just missed going to state our junior year. Much of our success was due to the Taylor-Miller combination; I was Hank's #1 target. His senior year was a bust, most of the receivers had glass hands and his statistics weren't good enough to get a college football scholarship, his first love. He did get a baseball scholarship to Southern Illinois and did well for himself. Hank knew my father and his influence on my decision, he never held it against me that I had dropped out of football.

I ended up at UO and was on the fast track to the Olympics when a freak accident ended my pole vaulting career. During warm ups at the NCAA finals my pole snapped in two, a one in a million occurrence. I fell at an awkward angle and shattered my knee so bad it took two years of therapy to get back to 90%. By that time the Olympics were over and I had my Bachelor's degree. I also had a quarter million in the bank after the pole manufacturer settled. (In case you're wondering, Debbie couldn't touch the quarter mil, dad had insisted on a pre-nup.)

With me at Oregon and Hank at SIU we started to drift apart. I was one of his groomsman when he married Janice and was last back home after Janice gave birth to their second son. It was now just over two years since I last saw Hank and if he was pissed at my negligence he didn't show it. Within thirty minutes of my call to his house we were sitting in his back yard having a beer.

First I caught up on what was happening in Hank's life: his job (Chicago firefighter), his wife (Janice) and his two boys (Mark and Hank). Then it was my turn. Hank heard about my divorce from mom, but she hadn't shared any particulars. He was less surprised by these events than I anticipated; he was surprised when I told him how my relationship with Becky ended and how I was having trust issues.

"Since Debbie's cheating I've had a hard time trusting anyone. It just seems everyone is out for themselves."

Hank stared at me before responding. "That's because for the last twelve years you've been hanging out with all the wrong people.

"Let me tell you a story you don't know. For all three years you and Ginny dated throughout high school I was in love with Ginny. Yea, I can see by the look on your face you didn't have a clue; and that's the way it should be. A friend never messes with a friend's lady, no matter what. Remember that trip to my uncle's lodge up in Door County? You had to work on Friday and so did the girl I was going with at the time, Stacy.

"Ginny and I went up to the lodge Friday morning to get things ready, you and Stacy were coming up Friday night after work. Your car broke down and you didn't get up there until late Saturday afternoon.

"So Ginny and I are going to be by ourselves all night because we get your call that you're stuck in Milwaukee, we're drinking some cheap wine, Ginny is still wearing one of her bikinis from the swim in the lake, and to top it off the power goes out at the cabin so now we're sitting by candlelight.

"And you want to know what happened that night between Ginny and me? Nothing! Because a friend never crosses that line. And if I wasn't a friend and I tried to make a move on Ginny, you know what would have happened? Nothing! Because Ginny was the kind of girlfriend that would never cheat on her man.

"You went to Oregon and left the people you could count on to follow your Olympic dream. That's OK, but you shouldn't have replaced your friends with self-centered grabbers out for themselves.

"I feel sorry for you Mark."

It took me a few moments to register what Hank had said. Then I thought about Ginny.

"Do you have any idea where Ginny is or what's she's up to? I haven't seen her since the first Christmas when I came home during my freshman year at Oregon. We pretty much broke up that week. One more long distance romance bites the dust. It didn't help I pledged Delta and the sorority girls were easy."

"Ginny was here a couple months ago; she's a widow now with a five-year-old son."

"A widow? What happened?"

"Her husband's last tour in Afghanistan. He got shot up, she didn't go into details but I understand he won some important medals for bravery, posthumously unfortunately. Ginny's trying to hang in there for the sake of their son, but you can tell she's barely keeping it together. She's still living down in San Diego County near the base and his fellow officers keep an eye on her. She'd probably enjoy hearing from you if you'd like her email."

"Is she still hot? Did anything happen between you two while she was in town?" I glanced over my shoulder when I asked this to make certain Janice couldn't overhear our conversation, but the storm door was closed.

"You haven't been listening Mark. What the fuck happened to you? For one thing, I would never cheat on Janice. For another, Ginny would never have sex with a married man. It's just not who either of us are. You need to get your head out of your ass."

Only Hank Taylor could talk to me that way.

That evening I sent an email to Ginny.

"Ginny

Hank Taylor gave me your email address, I hope it's not inappropriate for me to contact you but I will be in the San Diego area this weekend and wondered if I could take you and your son to lunch or dinner either Friday or Saturday. Just to catch up.

Warm regards,

Mark"

Early Tuesday morning I received a pleasant surprise reply to my email.

"Mark

How nice to hear from you after all these years; lunch on Friday will work for me and my son Kevin. My address is xxxx.

I'll expect you at noon unless I hear differently from you.

Your friend,

Ginny"

Hank was on duty starting Tuesday, which meant he'd be in the fire station until I was scheduled to leave town. But he invited me to tour the station and have a meal with his crew. I took him up on the offer and later that day was sitting at a table with a cast of characters. Black, White, Hispanic, men and women; it's still hard for me to explain the feelings I was getting as I sat between two of Hank's fellow firefighters. They were both open to answering my questions; they were probably used to civilians in awe of what they considered routine. What became apparent is the necessity of trust required to perform their tasks while fighting a fire. The only way each firefighter dared to enter a burning building was with the knowledge that their teammates would watch each other's back and do their job.

It's probably then that I began to realize when my life started to go off its rails. Back in high school I replaced baseball and football, two team sports with individual events in track and field. Although the overall score for the track team was dependent on others, my contribution was solely based upon my efforts alone. Even my chosen profession, sales, was similar to this. Whether I made a sale or not was dependent almost entirely upon my efforts. The only team effort I could point to since l turned fifteen was my marriage to Debbie. Could my failed marriage be partially blamed by my selfishness, or the fact that I married a woman with traits of selfishness similar to my own?

Semper fidelis

Thursday I flew into San Diego, rented a car and checked into the Coronado. Friday I drove north to Ginny's home; one of four units of a quad townhome. I rang the bell and waited, trying to hide the bouquet of flowers from the sight of a nosey neighbor.

I almost dropped the flowers when the door opened. My god; Ginny was more beautiful than she was when she was nineteen. She was dressed in a bright blue sundress and there was a small boy wrapped around one of her legs.

"Mark, welcome." She put her hands behind my head and kissed me on the cheek. "Are those for me?" she said pointing to the flowers.

It was a silly question but I think she was trying to get me to say something because I was still just standing there frozen. I answered by handing her the bouquet.

"Thanks Mark; come in please while I put these in water."

"Mark, this is my son Kevin. Kevin, this is Mr. Miller, an old friend I went to school with before I met your daddy."

Kevin put his tiny hand out and said, "Hello, Mr. Miller."

I finally found my voice and said, "Hello Kevin" while shaking his hand.

While Ginny was putting the flowers in a vase I looked around the apartment. The first thing that caught my attention was the folded flag in the center of the bookcase. On one side of the flag was a photo of a Marine; attached to the frame were two medals, the Purple Heart and the Navy Cross.

"That's my dad."

I looked at the photo on the other side of the flag. Ginny with her husband and an infant Kevin at the beach. Just then Ginny walked into the room.

"Ginny, I'm sorry if this doesn't come out right, but this is a beautiful photo, you three look very much in love. You must miss him."

"No need to apologize, that's a nice thing to say and yes, we were madly in love. I met him at Northwestern, he was in the ROTC program while I was studying journalism. My classmates questioned why I would fall in love with a military man, most of my classmates had little regard for the military. But besides being a strong confident man, Chuck was the kind of man you could put your trust in, he had a heart of gold."

There's that word again - trust. Ginny's eyes were tearing slightly while she stared at the photo, so I broke the silence.

"Are you still up for lunch?"

"Yes, we need to get caught up. C'mon Kevin, Mr. Miller is taking us out to the Red Robin."

Kevin was pretty excited about that and we hopped into Ginny's car rather than move the car seat to my rental. The conversation was more upbeat during the drive and by the time we entered the restaurant the three of us were laughing at some silly joke Kevin told us.

Lunch was wonderful; although Ginny had gone through so many life changes since we last spoke: marriage, child, widow; she was still the same - kind, smart, funny and charming. At one point Ginny asked me why I was in San Diego. I was embarrassed, but decided to tell the truth.

"I told you about the scolding both my mom and Hank gave me. So the truth is, I came here to apologize to you for how I ended things back then. You deserved better and quite honestly, listening to you tell me about your marriage to Chuck, you did much better."

"What are you going to do now? Are you heading back to Portland?"

"My flight's not until Sunday evening. I think I'll spend the next couple days on the beach running some and trying to get my head straight. I have a lot to think about."

Kevin relieved his boredom by coloring with the crayons the restaurant gives the kids as the two adults got caught up. But we were pressing it after two hours so we drove back to Ginny's.

"Mark, would you like to attend a barbeque at my friends' house tomorrow?

"What, and miss a day by myself contemplating my navel? You're asking a lot."

Ginny laughed. "Well, if you change your mind and decide to go with us to the barbeque, pick me up at eleven tomorrow. Dress casual, shorts and a polo shirt. Oh yea - bring some beer."

I told Ginny I'd see her then, gave her a kiss on the cheek and shook Kevin's hand. As I drove back to my hotel all the reasons why I loved Ginny for those three years in high school came flooding back to me.

The next day Ginny, Kevin and I went to the picnic. Ginny was wearing a pair of white cutoffs and some kind of bra-top t-shirt. The shorts weren't too short for a family picnic, but they did show how toned she kept her athletic legs. The top just hinted at cleavage, sexy but understated. She wore her blonde hair in a ponytail. Aviator sunglasses hid her brown eyes.

After we parked the car Ginny took my hand to introduce me to her friends. As we approached a small group of men, apparently all Marines, I could feel their eyes inspecting me, I had the feeling this picnic was partially a test to see if I was good enough to date Ginny. The introductions were made and Ginny left me to make certain Kevin was situated with the other children; at least that's the reason she gave me.

I addressed the group, "I hope it's not a cliché, but thank you for your service."

Captain John Clayton answered for the group. "Whether it's a cliché or not, it's always welcome to hear. My father served in Vietnam and I can see the pleasure in his eyes whenever we're out together, I'm in uniform, and someone thanks me. Far different from his experience after returning from Nam."

From there the conversation turned to more pleasant topics; including the manly icebreaker - sports. The day passed quickly; I would spend a little time with Ginny, some time with the men and even spent an hour in the kitchen with the ladies swapping cooking tips. At the end of the day I was invited to join the men at a local tavern after I brought Ginny home.

Kevin was asleep in his car seat.

"Well, did I pass?"

"I think so. But I'll probably get a call from Doreen after you leave for the tavern. Then I'll get another call tomorrow after the men report back to their wives tonight. I hope you don't mind too much; they are a tight group that take care of their own. I'll always be a part of them because of Chuck, he and John Clayton were very close in Afghanistan."

I held my breath and decided to ask the question that was swirling through my brain. "So the fact that I'm being vetted means you want to continue seeing me?"

"Yes Mark. We've both changed since high school, but there's still something in my heart for you. If you want to keep seeing me, I'd like that very much."

"I'd like that too Ginny. Let the vetting begin." We laughed and I remembered how much I used to enjoy the sound of her laughter.

"It will probably be late when I leave the bar. Can we see each other tomorrow, that is if I passed the tests?"

Ginny laughed again. "I usually go to mass at ten. You can join me for mass or come over afterwards." She looked in my eyes, "When's the last time you were at mass Mark?"

"Besides funerals and weddings? It's been at least ten years. I slowly left the church when I moved to Oregon; I didn't stop believing, just stopped going to church."

We were pulling up to her house. I carefully pulled Kevin from his car seat and carried him to his bed. I turned to see Ginny at the doorway, looking at us with a smile on her face. I walked over to her, gave her a hug and a kiss; she kissed me back.