a story that's needed to be told for a long time

There are few things in my life that I regret. This is one of them:

I met Scott when I was not quite 18, working my first job answering phones at Domino's Pizza. He was 24--home from a mission for our church, married a few years with a 2 year old, and freshly graduated from college--just waiting for a good job to come along and earning a little money delivering pizzas in the meantime. He was tall, blond, blue-eyed, and broad shouldered.

All the guys that worked there were friendly with us "phone girls"-- always a lot of teasing going on in the way of throwing balls of pizza dough at each other or drawing moustaches on one another with a pen--anything we could do to add a little life to the mundane work of pizzary. I didn't think anything of it when Scott would come up behind me and tickle me or ask to wear my new watch. In fact, I trusted him because of our shared faith. He was just a cool, older guy who still liked the same music as I did and wore Doc Martens. I didn't even think anything of it when he started asking me to go along on deliveries with him when I'd get off of work.

All those hours driving around together, talking about ourselves, our experiences, our dreams--of course it lead me towards having romantic feelings for him. Not long after, he started to reciprocate the emotion. He'd push little post-it notes in front of me while I'd be taking orders. They'd have smiley faces or hearts on them, or would tell me how pretty I looked that day. Nothing physical had gone on between us, so I was lead to believe that it was all just innocent flirting. What did I know of the sacredness of marriage anyway? I'd grown up the daughter of a widow. I honestly had no idea how a husband and wife treated each other, or things they should and shouldn't be doing.

Sometimes his wife, Deanna, would come into the store. She was very pregnant. Wearing denim overalls and red Converse All-Stars, her hair cut short like Demi Moore's in "Ghost". She'd have their young daughter by the hand, and both would be so excited to "see Daddy". He acted like he didn't even know me during those times, and I remember being very jealous of how pretty she was.

Our drives continued over the next month and our conversations grew more intense. He started to talk about going away together one day, after I graduated. He knew I had quite a bit of college money stored away and would often speak of just what we could buy with that much money. Even after all the pizzas were delivered, we would keep driving--till 3 and 4 am some nights. We'd drive up to the lake or out to the desert, pull the car to the side of the road, and talk or listen to Nitzer Ebb and Nine Inch Nails. A few times he held my hand. Once he hugged me in this long, lingering way that scared me. Like he might not let me go. That was the extent (thank goodness) of our physical contact.

He was with me on the night his son was born. This was pre-cell phone time, so his wife had no way of getting ahold him. She tried and tried to call Domino's with no answer. Her parents drove her to the hospital. I still wonder where he must have told her he was at such an obscene hour.

A few nights after that, he told me he'd had a change of heart. That he'd looked into the face of his new baby boy and wanted to be a better husband and father. I agreed. There was something about bringing a new life into the mix that opened my eyes--made me realize just how wrong it all was. I quit my job the very next day to get away from him. It was May anyway and I'd be graduating in less than a month. Taking the summer off before starting college sounded like a good plan. I didn't hear anything more from Scott, until July rolled around.....

(this is all I want to put into this post. More of the story tomorrow).