A Life More Complete (19 page)

“We’re going to meet her at a
restaurant near her house. We can go by your hotel before that and get you some
clean clothes. Do you feel like going to the beach today? I just want to lay in
the sand in a bikini and forget about everything but you and me.”

“Sounds wonderful, except I’m wearing
jeans,” he says glancing down at his pants. “I don’t think the unsuspecting
public would like to see my naked ass.”

“I would,” I say, winking at him. “There’s
a surf store down the street from my house. You can pick up a pair of shorts
there.”

A few minutes later I am lying in the
sand shielding my eyes from the sun as I glance over at Tyler. In my haste I
forgot to grab a hat and sunglasses just aren’t cutting it. The sun beating
down on me causes goose bumps to rise up on my skin or maybe it’s the proximity
to Tyler and his incredible body. He’s still Chicago winter pale, but it doesn’t
make a difference, the sun will tan his skin in a few short days. He’s one of
those people. The kind the sun loves, the kind that tans instantly and lasts. He’d
take two-week vacations to Barbados or Jamaica or Hawaii with his family over winter
break and come back as tan as an island native.

His phone rings and he looks at me
with apologetic eyes. “Sorry, I gotta take this,” he says pressing the phone to
his ear. He wanders away from me and paces the beach. He runs his hand through
his hair a few times and the exasperation is written all over his face. This is
the first time in the many years I have spent with Tyler that I am not worried
about who he is talking to or what he is planning.

He walks back to the beach towel with
a smile on his face. He looks at me and the smile grows. I lick my lips and
smile back. He flops down next to me and rolls onto his side facing me.

“You’re the only girl on this beach
who could make a mismatched bikini look so good,” he says as he leans over and
kisses me. In addition to forgetting my hat I grabbed the first two parts of a
bikini from my drawer and threw them on. Turns out it was a pair of purple
string bottoms and a green and white stripe halter top. It didn’t matter to me.
To be happy, I just needed the beach and Tyler.

As he pulls away from me he says, “I
have to go back to Chicago on Monday to finalize my divorce. I’ll fly out on
Sunday night and I’ll be back Monday night. I’ll only be gone one day. That is,
unless you want to come with me?” He smiles and it’s almost enough to make me say
yes without a second thought.

“I wish I could, but I have to work. I
have an event one of my clients is sponsoring on Sunday night. Rich women
getting together and donating their used designer clothing to help homeless
kids or Africa or something. I’m sure the population of a third world country
is just dying to get their hands on a pair of used Jimmy Choos or a Marchesa
cocktail dress. Believe me, I’d much rather be with you even with its location
dangerously close to my mother.”

“I don’t think they actually give the
clothes to the people. I am pretty sure, if I recall from all those benefits my
mother threw, that they sell the clothes and give the money.”

“Thanks for the insight. I know that,
Ty. I was being facetious.”

 
I immediately think of Ben and smile. Sweet,
generous, Ben. These women and their over-priced clothes have nothing on him. Anytime
one of my clients donates money or attends a fundraiser or does something
honorable, it’s my job to make it news worthy. Play it up for the media, talk about
them and discuss the amount of money that was given. It needs to be
acknowledged, published, and swooned over. Not Ben. He wants no recognition for
his philanthropic ways. He employs around two hundred people and pays them far
more than they’d make anywhere else, including the illegal immigrants who work
for him. Everyone has health insurance and 401Ks. They have the use of work
trucks for their families. Not one of his employees takes advantage of him. He
trusts them, even when no else will. But that’s not what makes him wonderful. He
pays himself only what he feels he should earn. He’s not a frivolous spender,
no expensive cars, huge house or obscenely expensive vacations. What leftover
he does have he shares with a small village outside of Arusha in Tanzania. He’s
not like the wealthy with whom he can so easily compete. He travels with the
money and he even helped build a school where people educate the locals about
HIV and AIDS and how it can be prevented. He spends weeks there maintaining the
facility, teaching and providing the financial support it needs to continue to thrive.
He once told me that the money he uses to help this village gives him the feeling
you got as a child on Christmas. Ben can see the good in anyone—even me.

I feel a twinge of sadness rush
through me. I still miss Ben and the hole is open again. It’s like pulling a
scab off before it’s healed. I want it not to hurt, but it still does. Tyler
has been the Band-Aid, but when I peel it back just a little, it’s still there.

“You okay?” Tyler asks.

“Yes. I’m fine,” I say trying to smile,
but it’s forced. I wouldn’t dare bring up Ben with Tyler, at least not in this
regard. Things are good and I want them to remain that way. “We should probably
head back. I need to shower.”

“Okay. You sure nothing’s wrong?” He
eyes me doubtfully.

“I’m fine. You ready?” He takes my
hand and we walk back to the car.

 
“Really, what’s going on in that pretty
little head of yours? Is this still about the house?”

“No. It’s not,” I smile a genuine
smile at him. “Just a lot on my mind. Work, you know.” He grabs my hand and
presses it to his lips and my thoughts slowly dissipate.

“Stop. I don’t like to see you
stressed. I know something we can do that’s proven to eliminate stress,” he
says. We try his stress-relieving method when we get home. He collapses on top
of me breathing heavy and whispers, “Better?”

“Completely,” I answer.

I shower and change quickly into a
pair of jeans and a low cut black top adding a pair of red ballet flats. I pull
my hair back and put on a little makeup. Tyler is sitting on the couch waiting
when I emerge from my bedroom. His hair is wet and beginning to curl the way it
always does. When we met his hair had been longer, disheveled and messy. I loved
it. It’s getting longer now, but not near what it was. His dirty blonde hair
set his blue eyes off like they were backed against a light. And when he’s tan,
the whole package is heart-stoppingly beautiful.

“I like your hair longer,” I say.

“So do I, but it doesn’t really say ‘professional’
when it falls in my face. The court frowns upon it being held back with a
bandana, so I keep it short.”

“You ready?” I ask. He stands and
heads toward the door with me. “I’m going to grab my mail. I’ll meet you in the
car.”

I flip through the useless mailers
and credit card application until I come across a large white envelope. I climb
into the passenger seat and tear it open. It’s an invitation to my sister’s
wedding that is happening next Saturday. So typical of Rachel, but still
surprising. I knew she had been dating the sous chef at one of the restaurants
in the hotel. I had no idea it was this serious, which tells me that our
relationship is the same as it has always been. Although we are sisters, we don’t
share that bond that people so warmly discuss. But I can’t expect much, we were
raised to keep feelings to ourselves and to expect her to suddenly change would
have been odd considering I share so little with her, too.

“My sister’s getting married,” I
mutter.

“Seriously? Which one?”

“Rachel.”

“No fucking way. Someone’s marrying
Rachel?” he says sounding far more appalled than necessary.

“Be nice,” I scold. “They’ve been
together for a long time now, but I never thought it was very serious. The
wedding is next weekend in Carmel.”

“Nothing like wasting time,” he says
sarcastically.

“Will you be my date?” I ask in a
sweet voice.

“I wouldn’t dare let you attend it
alone. I’ve seen what happens when the two of you drink and dance.”

I pull a small note from the envelope
addressed with just my first name on it. Rachel had added a note to me that
says our mother will not be there, but Maizey will. She booked rooms at the
Carmel Lodge for us since it is such short notice. But it’s what the note says
at the end that causes me to stop breathing. It says, “Can’t wait to see you
and Ben. Miss you.” No matter what I do I can’t get rid of him. I quickly send
her a text letting her know that I wouldn’t miss her wedding for the world, but
that Ben won’t be coming with me. I’m vague with details of our breakup and I’m
also ambiguous in my choice of date I’ll be bringing. I figure it’s too much
work to explain my reconciliation with Tyler in a text. She replies immediately
baiting me to tell her about Ben, but I blow her off. It needs to be simpler to
forget him. It’s not, though.

We arrive at Tyler’s hotel room and he
changes quickly into a gray t-shirt and pair of jeans.

 
“Ready?” he asks and I take his
outstretched hand and follow him out of the room and down to the car.

He opens the car door for me and does
the same when we arrive at the restaurant. He places his hand on the small of
my back guiding me through the door. He clasps my hand in his while I scan the
room for Melinda. I spot her at the bar laughing and talking to the bartender. She’s
doing her best to impress him and it seems to be working. We come up behind her
and she startles slightly when I put my hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, Mel. Hope you weren’t waiting
long.”

“Nope. Just catching up with an old
friend.” She motions to the bartender. “This is Noah Crawley. We went to high
school together. Small world, huh?” she says looking at him the way she looks
when she wants something, or in this case someone. She introduces the two of us
to Noah.

I smile at her and say, “Watch out
for those high school boys, they’re trouble,” I wink at Tyler and he squeezes
my hand slightly.

Melinda says good-bye to Noah and we
make our way to the table following the hostess. After we sit, I reintroduce
the two of them, this time with less hostility. Tyler is courteous. He runs his
hand up and down my thigh and lets Melinda and I talk. Smiling and interjecting
when he has something relevant to add, it’s the perfect evening. He tells
Melinda how we met even though she has already heard the story. His version is
better than mine. It’s during this time that I finally realize he must truly
love me. Tyler excuses himself to the bathroom and Melinda nearly jumps across
the table.

“Oh my God! He’s perfect!” she says
grabbing my wrist. “I always wondered what your random tattoo meant. I never
had the balls to ask, because it was bizarre, but it’s like a freaking love
story permanently attached to you. You guys were such romantic little kids. It’s
awesome.”

“Yeah, I guess it is. It’s all so
hard to process. He’s totally different than he used to be. He’s making it
really easy to fall in love with him all over again.”

“Shit, I’m in love with him,” she
squeals and I laugh. “This time it’s right. I told you it would happen.”

“So, what about that bartender? Adorable,
huh?” I quickly change the subject.

“Yeah he is, but um, he’s a
bartender. Could you imagine my dad’s reaction? But he seems like he might be a
good candidate for one night with me.” Melinda is a notorious one-night stand
girl. She is perfectly content bedding random men and sneaking out of their
houses before they can even realize she’s gone. Most would label her a slut,
but not me. She’s a free spirit, someone who likes a good time and would never
begrudge herself a little fun at the expense of a horny guy. Everyone needs to
be more like Melinda. She loves sex and finds it where she can get it. No
guilt, no strings, no love, just pleasure and back to normal life after it’s
over. She once confessed to me while we were drunk that she wished she could
find someone, that she was lonely, but in the morning light she was back to
being carefree and bedding a guy she picked up while we were hiking Runyon
Canyon.

“Do what you gotta do,” I tell her. “He
seems nice enough.” Tyler returns to the table just as we finish up our
conversation about how thankful Melinda is that she got a Brazilian two days
ago.

“It’s usually out of commission for
at least a day,” she says.

“What’s out of commission?” Tyler
asks.

“You don’t wanna know,” I tell him
and he looks at me with a little too much interest.

We finish our dinner and I’m on my fourth
margarita. I have that slightly lightheaded feeling going on as I kiss Melinda
good-bye. I whisper in her ear that she should consider more than just a
one-night stand with the bartender. I giggle and she shakes her head at me, but
I can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s contemplating it. Tyler, being
his polite self, leans in and kisses her on the cheek, too. He asks if we can
give her a ride back to her house. She declines and he wishes her well and
escorts me to the car. My arm linked in his; gripping it a little more tightly
due to my drunkenness that seems to be taking control of my body. I’m giggly
and smiling far too much. I can’t stop telling him I love him as my hands grope
his body unnecessarily. I sound ridiculous, yet I have no control.