Lena looked down at the table and spun her napkin wrapped silverware in a circle. Thing was, Sadie was right. But she wasn’t going to be the one to rain on her wedding. Sadie’s hand covered hers.
“Lena.”
“Okay. Yes. No. It’s complicated.”
Sadie laughed, drawing the eyes of a couple of men sitting nearby. “I’d expect no less from you than complicated. Look. I’ve got some conflicted feelings about this too. You were always the one who wanted to find the guy and get married. Have kids and all that junk. Not me.”
“Yet, here you are, deliriously happy. Wedding planning. Instant family.”
“Yes. And I feel guilty about it sometimes.”
Lena frowned and leaned forward to take both Sadie’s hands in hers. “Look at me, Sades.” When Sadie’s dark blue eyes met hers, she squeezed her hands. “Don’t do that. Never. I am beyond happy for you. You are more than my best friend. You’re my sister.”
A weak smile trembled on Sadie’s lips. “But still. I just fell into this and now your family is driving you crazy.”
“And that’s my problem. Not yours. Your problem is that my mother is trying to hijack your wedding plans.”
Sadie sat back with a groan. “That’s the truth. Have you seen her Pinterest board? It’s like Catholic tradition met upscale elegance and had a country-kitsch baby. It’s a horror show.”
“Can you imagine how she’s going to be if I get married?”
“When you get married. Tell me about this date.”
Their wine arrived and Lena poured a healthy glassful. “I don’t know. He’s a doctor. Cuban by the accent, I think. Sort of cute. Seemed embarrassed that Paula ambushed us both.”
“Are you going to be nice? Not rip his throat out in the first five minutes like you did with poor what’s-his-name?”
Taking a long sip of wine, Lena arched an eyebrow. “Maybe,” she said.
But Sadie didn’t laugh. A small frown crossed her features. “Come on. Sister, truth—you can be very intimidating. And sometimes you use it like a weapon. Especially with men.”
“Men piss me off more than anyone else.”
She meant it to come out snarky, but even she couldn’t deny the undercurrent of anger in her words. She didn’t know why it was true. But it was. If it wasn’t some white dude trying to satisfy a Latina fetish, it was some jerk trying to assert dominance.
“Because you let them do that, Lena. You jump on anything. One misspoken word. One perceived insult and you come out swinging.”
“Now you’re being irritating.”
“I don’t care,” Sadie said, pouring more wine into her glass. “You told me a lot of things I didn’t want to hear. Your turn.”
“So what do you want me to do? Be nice when some guy asks me if it’s true that Latina women are hot in bed?”
“No. That guy you can eviscerate. But yeah, be nice. Give a guy a chance to prove himself.”
Lena looked up gratefully as the waitress brought their food. “Thank you,” she said. Unrolling her silverware, she concentrated on the shrimp and grits. Okay. Mean. Not the first time I’ve heard that. I’m not mean. I just don’t play games. She sighed and dropped her spoon to the plate. “I’m mean.”
“No. You can be. But you aren’t mean. Not the real you. It’s just a wall you put up. See who’s brave enough to scale it.”
“I’m a bitch.”
“A strong, independent woman who has overcome obstacles that would have crippled most men. Successful. Beautiful. Savvy.”
“I’m a mean bitch.”
“Lena. Stop it. Listen to me. You are not a mean bitch. You just play one on dates.”
That made her smile. It hurt to look at it, but it was true. She had left a long trail of bleeding men behind her. She ate a few more bites of shrimp. Thinking back, most of them hadn’t been bad guys but she always managed to find something wrong with them. Maybe it is me. Maybe I make up reasons to push them away. More like send them running away.
“I think there’s something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Sadie said. “Just like there was nothing wrong with me. You just haven’t met your guy yet.”
Lena shook her head. “No. That’s not it. I don’t think I can do the serious relationship thing. I’m too much of a control freak. I have to be in charge. But then I don’t like a man who lets me be in charge. And then I get furious when a man tries to be in charge. See?”
“That’s because being in charge isn’t part of a healthy relationship, Lena. Being equal partners is.”
Snagging her wineglass and leaning back in her seat, Lena mulled over those words. Equal partners. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I think I have a trust problem.”
“Trust as in ‘depend on’?” Sadie asked.
“No. Trust in myself.”
She leaned forward, resting her forearms along the table. The moment was so alive in her memory that she could still feel the sting of his palm across her cheek. The shame was still so great that she’d never told anyone except her mother. Not even Sadie.
Sadie leaned in closer. “Tell me.”
“I was in love. Head over heels, down the rabbit hole, don’t care about anything anyone says, this is my soulmate in love. Until he slapped me. Because I wasn’t ready to sleep with him.”
The slap had been completely unexpected. So out of character. It had taken her breath away. That moment and the rapid shift from shock to disbelief to heartbreak may have only lasted a few seconds in real time. But its legacy lived on in her behavior.
“That’s what it is?” Sadie asked softly. “That’s your trigger?”
She looked up into Sadie’s eyes. “I think so. I know that was the moment when I realized I couldn’t truly count on anyone except myself. When I got serious about school and college and getting myself and my family out of the constant fear and uncertainty of poverty.”
“And now that you’ve accomplished that goal, that incident has changed from being an incentive to being a hindrance?”
Lena brought her hands up and pressed her fingers against her lips. That was it. That single-minded drive that allowed her to ignore naysayers and overcome every obstacle had nothing to do now that she’d reached her goal and was in a place of safety. Sadie’s completely right.
“How do I change it though?”
“First step is realizing it,” Sadie replied. “I’m no expert, but I think the next step is recognizing when your feelings are coming from that trigger.”
“Oh. Easy.” Lena snapped her fingers. “Okay. Done. Next.”
Sadie took a sip of wine and raised her eyebrows. “See? That? That was the trigger. You realized you have emotional work to do so you went straight to sarcasm and being flippant.”
She wanted to be angry. It was right there, brimming at the back of her throat but she pushed it down. How did Sadie do it? She was right. Again. She picked up her fork and began pushing grits around on the plate. “I’m tired of this, Sadie. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“You’ve already begun. You’re tired because you’ve just realized the weight of this trigger you’ve been carrying for all these years.”
“But what’s