Meanwhile, Back at Thanksgiving

"So your step-sister pulled me aside after dinner," Scott began quietly as I drove us home from my father's Thanksgiving.

"Oh yeah, I meant to ask you about that. What did she say?"

"She wanted to know my intentions. She said you've had a rough time of guys not treating you well, and that she doesn't want to see you hurt again. She thinks we look good together and that she can tell you really like me, so she wanted to make sure I wasn't going to hurt you."

"Oh." It was the typical speech from movies and magazines, but one that's never been applied to me before. Despite being the youngest, no one has ever really watched out for me. Tears fogged my vision and I confusedly turned on the wiper blades for the windshield.

My throat choked up over the validation of being victimized in my previous relationships. Always second guessing myself, having the confirmation from an outside source made me grieve once more for past heartaches. My chin quivered at the idea that one person loves me enough to make sure I'm okay. And then the tears fell when I realized that person was not my mother, my father, my biological brother, or my best friend, but my step-sister.

I love her like any other family member, but I was angry that the people closer to me weren't as considerate. She and I live miles apart, but she's now the mother of two and we see each other a handful of times a year. And we don't call each other. What my step-sister did should have been the job of someone else. But no one else in my life has ever looked out for me.

"Why are you crying?" Scott asked.

"It just really means a lot to me that she did that," I trembled.

"I know. That's why I told you." Scott paused, "I've been thinking about what she said."

"What's that?"

"That you've been hurt before."

I nodded and changed lanes on the highway.

"You never really talk about it."

I don't. I can't bring mine up to him. My alcoholic boyfriend and cheating boyfriend totally get trumped by Scott's wife who put his baby up for adoption. My hurts sound too trivial compared to his. If I ever reveal anything about me, he always responds, "Well imagine how I felt when she decided not to keep my baby." No amount of emotional abuse I've suffered compares and I always feel silly.

"So what did you say after she said that to you?" I asked, changing the focus.

"I said I was going to marry you."