I guess it was too late to wonder if I had just made a big mistake, especially since I hadn't talked to Karen in two days. I didn't particularly care if she was angry with me for calling her out for the way she had treated me at the club. What did she think I was? A boy toy? Arm candy? A tool? I don't care what her friends thought of me, or her for that matter. She should've known better. Treating me like a piece of crap in front of her friends was unacceptable.

I knew that when she and I were alone, Karen turned pretty darned human. It was when she was around other people that I saw most of her negative behaviors coming out. Maybe she was so used to it she couldn't help herself. Maybe she didn't care. But she wasn't going to treat me like that, no way in hell.

For that reason, I was a bit surprised that she sounded so calm and pleasant when I called her up this morning. It was Sunday, my day off, and my parents had invited me over for dinner. We tried to have a Sunday dinner at least once a month, depending on my work schedule. On a whim, I asked if I could bring someone along. That was a first since they'd arrived in the region, and to say my mother was pleased would be an understatement. At the same time, I knew that introducing Karen to my parents was risky. I should not have just walked away from Karen on the sidewalk the other evening, but by the time I got home, I'd calmed down. She was difficult, no doubt about it. Maybe she had reasons for being so difficult, of which I was sure after meeting her parents. It wasn't that I was expecting to change her, not really. I didn't want her to mold into something I wanted her to be.

So what did I want?

I wanted Karen to feel comfortable enough around me and around herself to be just that. Herself. I knew that underneath the surface, she could be a decent human being. She'd grown so used to being on the defensive, to being treated and spoiled by her parents to think she was special, to believe that she was better than and perhaps more deserving than others, but it never hurt for people to eat some crow once in a while.

"Who are you trying to fool?" I asked my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I shaved. "You like her, don't you?"

Despite everything, I did. I couldn't decide whether I was being stupid, romantic, or utterly pathetic, but for some crazy reason, I wanted to get to know Karen better. I wanted this relationship, this partnership we had to go beyond the mere business deal and become real. Karen, despite her faults, was stimulating. She was a challenge, and I wasn't someone who typically turned away from challenges. I knew I was dealing with a human being here, and my own feelings and emotions. The truth was, my feelings for her had gone beyond mere attraction. She was a great lay, no doubt about it, but at this point, I was much more interested in what was going on in that brain of hers than what she could do in bed.

Which brought me right back to the issue at hand. What would my parents think? What would Karen think of my parents? When I had thrown out the invitation, I had expected her to decline, but she had accepted. Which meant? I wasn't sure. Meeting my parents wasn't part of this deal, this farce we were taking part of for her parents' sake. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for Karen. Maybe being around different groups of people, different lifestyles, would make her realize money wasn't everything. Then again, maybe I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Maybe she was so ingrained in her ways, so damaged by her past and the cloying yet superficial love of her parents, that she could never change. Or want to.

Anyway, I had told Karen to dress casually, that my parents were having a barbecue. I told her I'd pick her up at three o'clock, and she'd agreed. I finished shaving, tucked in my T-shirt, then walked into my living room and pulled on my boots. Boots, jeans T-shirt. Check. Nothing fancy, nothing expensive, just comfortable. I felt a little bit nervous as I left my apartment, more worried about what my parents would think of Karen and what she would think of them. By the time the cab pulled up in front of her apartment and she exited, I couldn't help but grin. She had tried to dress for the occasion, albeit with a brand-new pair of dark blue denims, white sandals, and her idea of a T-shirt, which was a loose flowing, scarlet-red silk blouse.

I got out of the cab, grinned at her, and let her slide in. "You look good," I complimented. "I just hope you don't slop any barbecue sauce on that silk shirt of yours."

She looked at me in surprise, then down at her blouse, and then offered a shrug. "No biggie," she said, lifting one of those fancy overlarge handbags she was prone to carry. "When you said it was a barbecue, I figured I'd better pack a spare, just in case."

She laughed, and I laughed too. By the time the cab dropped us off at Grand Central Terminal, I was feeling a little more confident and relaxed. The New Haven line departed every hour on weekdays, every couple of hours on Sundays. It took about an hour and a half, so we would arrive and be able to take a cab to my parent's house and arrive just in time for dinner. Usually, I left earlier and stayed longer, sometimes even going up on Saturdays after work. For now, I figured a short visit with Karen would be enough for everyone to get acquainted and enable us to leave early enough before something – anything - could go wrong.

We engaged in idle conversation on the train, the gentle rocking of the train car lulling me into a sense of relaxation. About halfway there, Karen looked up at me and apologized softly for the way she had treated me the other night at the club. I accepted her apology, thinking to myself that perhaps I was on the right track with her. I wondered if her feelings for me had begun to change a little, just as mine had for her, but I didn't want to broach the topic now. Maybe tonight on the way home, maybe never, depending on how things worked out.

By the time we got to my parent's house, my stomach was rumbling. The cab dropped us off at the curb, where I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of emotion. I wasn't a mama's boy, at least not by my own definition, but the respect and love I have for my parents is difficult to explain. No matter where I was or how old I got, I knew they would always be there for me. Not hovering, not cloying, but there. As I would be for them if they needed it.

We stepped out of the cab and I carefully watched Karen's expression as she peered up at the small cape style home. It was a three-bedroom, two bath, two level home barely over fifteen-hundred square feet, probably smaller, square foot per square foot, than her own apartment in upper Manhattan. A series of stone steps led up from the sidewalk to a small landing, and then wooden steps the rest of the way. My parents had painted the exterior of the house in a traditional New England slate blue with white trim, and of course, the ubiquitous red door.

Without knocking, knowing the door would be unlocked for me, I turned the knob and entered, gesturing for Karen to precede me. She startled when I let out a boisterous shout.

"Mom! Dad! I'm home!" I shouted as we made our way through the small entryway and into the wood-floored living room with a stone fireplace flanked by two narrow windows that overlooked the backyard. To the left of the front door rose a wooden staircase to the second level. A square opening led from the living room to the left into the dining room, graced with a sliding glass window which looked out onto a large, wooden deck with white railings. I saw my dad was busy tending the barbecue.

The aroma of barbecuing chicken and pork ribs greeted me, triggering another round of rumbling in my stomach. My dad turned, waving the spatula as he gestured us outside. My mother emerged from upstairs, her footsteps preceding her as she rushed toward me, arms extended to wrap me in her typical, loving hug.

"Ben!" she beamed, as if she hadn't seen me in years. Then she released me, stepped back, and turned to Karen. Before I could even say a word, she spoke.

"You must be Karen." She smiled. "You're so lovely. My name is Nancy. And Patrick is out there tending the barbecue."

"Thank you, I'm very pleased to meet you," Karen said, almost shyly.

Now this was something new. Karen, shy? My mother grabbed one of my arms, and then wrapped her other hand around Karen's arm as she whisked us outside onto the deck, where the aroma of roasting meat and corn made me smile. It reminded me of being back home, in Oklahoma – the Sunday barbeques, the friends, the laughter...

My dad turned to Karen and offered one of his gregarious smiles. "I sure hope you're hungry, young lady, because I've made enough to feed an army platoon!"

"How was your ride up from the city?" Mom asked.

"You doing okay at work, son?" Dad asked at the same time.

Questions and answers flew back and forth while my mother seated Karen at the picnic table nearby, covered with our traditional red and white checked tablecloth and simple plate ware. A small vase of yellow daisies was the only ornament, and beside it stood a large, glass pitcher of iced tea and four glasses filled with ice.

"Ben, pour the tea, won't you?"

Karen was quiet, surprisingly so. I distinctly got the impression that she was totally out of her element, but not displeasingly so. She smiled politely and seemed to enjoy the attention my parents gave her, and looked at all of us sometimes with an almost strange expression. Like we were creatures who lived on a different planet. I wondered if she was comparing my family and my relationship to them - our bond - with hers. Maybe for her, this barbecue was bittersweet, offering something that maybe she had always yearned for and never gotten. Completely unfamiliar to her, but nevertheless something she'd always desired.

Dinner was not a fancy affair. Barbequed pork ribs and chicken, eaten with fingers of course, corn on the cob, and great-grandma's potato salad, the recipe passed down from generation to generation. I had to smile at Karen's surprise as she was encouraged to eat everything but the potato salad with her fingers. She grew embarrassed for a moment when she was caught smiling with a corn kernel caught on her teeth, but we all laughed, gleefully baring our own teeth, also bedecked with kernels of corn. We erupted into fits of laughter, which I gauged by her expression, also took Karen by surprise.

"As you can tell, Karen, we're pretty informal around the table," I said, giving her a wink. My mom saw it and smiled at me.

It was later in the evening, as my dad and I took care of the barbecue, gathered trash, and sat outside on the patio, the sliding glass door open, that I realized that my mom had pulled Karen into the house, where they sat on the couch, talking. Their voices drifted softly outside from the open windows. My dad and I sat quietly, enjoying the evening as we often did, no conversation necessary.

I gathered from the comments that my mom was showing Karen the family photo album. I shook my head, hoping that Karen wouldn't get too bored. There were hundreds of photos in that album.

"Who's that standing next to Ben?"

"That's Jeremy, Ben's younger brother," Mom said simply.

I could tell the moment that Karen commented on the lack of photos of the two of us standing together after I was about twelve years old. I glanced at my father as my mother explained to Karen that Jeremy had died when he was ten years old. Cancer.

"I'm so sorry," Karen murmured.

I refused to go back in time, to remember those awful days. My father cleared his throat, looking up at the stars slowly appearing one by one in the night sky. A few minutes later, Karen mentioned the other dark place in my life.

"Who's that?" she asked.

I knew who she was talking about.

"Oh, I should've taken it out of the photo album, but I never could bring myself to do it. It's Ben's ex-fiancée. She broke off the engagement a couple of years ago. That's why he ended up leaving Oklahoma and coming to New York City. To start over, you might say."

I heard the photo album shut and my mother offer a short laugh. "I couldn't stand the thought of him being so far away, so I made his father sell our house and we moved over here to Connecticut. A lot different, I can tell you that, but it's nice here. Not much elbow room, but the people are nice and it's good to see Ben almost every weekend much of the year."

I can only imagine the thoughts going through Karen's head. Maybe she didn't want to get to know me more personally. To realize that I, like everybody else, had a past, and some of the events of those past were not always filled with pleasant memories. But maybe, just maybe, she might begin to see me in a new light. Not someone that she could boss around, show off, or boast about to her parents. Maybe, she might just realize that I was a good guy, and that just because I didn't have money didn't mean that I wouldn't be a good catch.

Which got me to thinking. Was that where I wanted this to head? I wasn't sure. Not sure at all. The last thing I needed was to allow myself to fall for someone who would rip my heart out and trample it into the ground. Again. Maybe, on the way home back to the city tonight, Karen and I could talk about it. If she was beginning to develop feelings toward me, then we had to reassess this plan of hers.

If not, then I'd rather know sooner than later. The last thing I wanted or needed was a one-sided relationship. I shook my head, watching the stars appear as, out of the corner of my eye, my dad turned toward me.

"She's different, that one," he said softly. "You just be careful, son. You be careful."

I nodded, not turning away from the stars. "I plan on it, Dad. Count on it."