A Life More Complete (2 page)

I turned and headed back in the
direction of Roxy’s owner with Roxy trailing behind in such close proximity to
my feet that I thought I might kick her. When we finally reached him, his dark
brown eyes were wide with fear and he dropped to his knees in front of Roxy,
engulfing her face in his hands. He rubbed his fingers vigorously over her
ears, speaking to her as if she were a small, errant child.

“Roxy, you bad girl! Don’t you ever
run away again. I was so worried!” All along, Roxy was tilting her head in
different directions as the inflection in his voice changed. Everything about
this was endearing: this man on his knees, the way he spoke to the dog, the
kindness and love he bequeathed upon her, and his genuine concern for her
safety. My words pulled him from his reverie. They left my mouth before my
brain could stop them.

 
“Your dog is adorable.”

He glanced up at me, placing his hand
on his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. He paused for a brief moment,
then a shy smile crossed his face and he responded lightly with, “You’re
adorable.”

The smile fell instantly from my
face. I wasn’t prepared or ready to welcome any advances that would allow me to
feel. I couldn’t bear the thought of allowing anyone into my life that might
possibly end with me getting hurt, or even worse, me hurting them. Quickly and
silently I tapped the pads of each one of my fingertips on my right hand. Counting
each one in rapid succession till I reached ten. This was my OCD at its best. A
situation I wasn’t in control of, calling for stimulation to calm my senses and
relax my overwhelming urge to bolt.

He stood in front of me, his smile
faded based on my response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s not
every day that a beautiful girl returns my wayward dog to me.” He extended a
tanned, yet well-worn hand to me. “Ben,” he said with a weak grin. I didn’t
take his hand, but I responded with, “Krissy. Krissy Mullins.” The thought of
touch overwhelmed me and again I tapped my fingers.

“I’m glad I was able to help. I’d
hate to see what would’ve happened if she hadn’t been found.” I smiled timidly.

“It would have been bad. She’s my
life.” He glanced down at the dog, who was now resting at his feet, leisurely
licking her paw. “Let me take you out as a thank you for finding her.” His
eyebrows rose as he awaited an answer.

“I don’t think so, but thank you. I
need to be going. Have a good one.” I turned and walked away. Somehow when he
didn’t follow me, I knew my point was made.

Ben would outlast me, which to this
day I don’t understand why. Months would pass and I would wave to him while he
surfed and I ran. Roxy would trail at my feet, making me feel some semblance of
comfort in her proximity. We would chat briefly as I returned Roxy to him,
basic conversation: weather, running, surfing, never delving too deep.

Eventually I caved and had coffee
with him one Saturday morning. It became a regular occurrence for months. He
became a friend and a close one at that, and over the last few years we began
to teeter on the edge of that muddy line between friends and something more.

I wasn’t looking to fall in love. Nope,
not me. Been there, done that and boy, oh, boy did the ending suck. I’m
serious, ambitious, goal driven, at least that’s how I want to be perceived,
but I know my view might be a little skewed. I’m the girl who wears white pants
and assumes they won’t get dirty. I’m clumsy and silly, but long to be taken
seriously. Yep, that’s me. A damn fool. With Ben it falls to pieces. I can only
see him and the warmth that spreads through my body. He makes me laugh. He
makes me smile. He makes me weak.

I remove my shoes and begin to unroll
my yoga mat as Ben strolls up. Drying himself with a beach towel, he commands Roxy
to sit, his deep brown hair still damp from his morning surf, his muscular body
tanned and flexing as he dries his hair again. He in turn unrolls a mat
directly behind me, giving me a coy smile. I know his game and I giggle at the
thought. He’s only here so he can be with me and he reminds me of that with a
shy grin on his face.

 
“It’s been ten years today,” I whisper
for some unknown reason. I guess if I say it loud enough I might will it to go
bad. After the words leave my mouth I have to suppress the urge to tap my
fingers and to my surprise, the urgency subsides rather quickly.

“Well, I’d say you’ve done quite well
for yourself, Miss Mullins. Not bad for a midwestern girl.” He smiles and it melts
me. I want to reach out and grab him. Pull myself against his chest and seek
the comfort that only his embrace brings me. I trust him implicitly with every
part of my being, but he wants more and I can’t give it to him.

Placing my feet squarely on the mat,
I bend forward into down dog and he slaps my ass. “One day,” he says and winks
at me.

Again I giggle like a schoolgirl. I
part my legs and glance at him, “It took five years to get to this point, hope
you got another five in you,” I respond.

I’m good at seduction. We both know
that. It’s my heart and my commitment that he wants, not my body. Yet my body
is so easy to give away—a few choice movements and he becomes mine. His
words “one day” bounce around in my head and I know he wants what I can’t give
him. It’s the only point that we argue about and it always comes back to the
same thing. He wants a title, ownership, commitment... love. I’ve never fully
loved him, always one foot out the door, that way when the pain invades I can
break away without feeling or guilt. But I want to change for him and I’m
compelling myself to be a better person, starting today.

I glance back at him as I move into
warrior pose, his board shorts hanging from his hips so low that I can’t help
but think inappropriate things about him. He’s absolutely and incomprehensibly
gorgeous and he wants me the way most women would kill for. His short dark
brown hair drying into an adorable faux hawk. Stomach muscles clenched while
the sun shines off his tanned body. A body that only surfing and manual labor
can create.

As the class draws to an end I move
swiftly into his chest wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. I nuzzle my
head under his chin where it fits perfectly. I breathe deeply taking in his
smell and basking in his comfort. Rarely do I touch him without warning or
provocation.

“What’s that for?” he asks pulling
away from me just slightly. I don’t answer his question. I can’t because
admitting I need him shows weakness, which is a term I’m not comfortable with.

“Do you want to shower at my house
today?” I ask and the look on his face is priceless as he grabs my hand,
tugging me toward the public parking lot as I reach to pick up my shoes. I
climb into the passenger seat of his old Toyota 4Runner. The SUV suits him
perfectly and I love the smell of worn leather and ocean that radiates from
within it. Without delay he hauls his surfboard onto the roof of the car and
calls Roxy into the backseat. His smile is plastered across his face and his
hand rests quietly on my thigh. He drives quickly toward my house before I have
a chance to bail on my question. He whips into my driveway, knowing we have
little time to spare before the impending workday will begin. Understanding
what I have started, I do what I do best. I saunter to the keypad on the garage
and punch in the code. The door rises slowly and as it does, I bend at the
waist, ducking under the door. Standing at the door to the house, I bite my
bottom lip and lift my tank top over my head while simultaneously hitting the
garage-door button. Roxy trailing behind him, he runs at me and I squeal with
delight. I turn quickly and jet into the house with him straggling behind. I
pull off my bra and shorts mid run and stop in the doorway to the bedroom. I
stand in only a pair of black underwear. He stops dead his mouth open slightly
as he stares.

I long to feel him against me. Everything
in my body is warm. It moves from my fingertips, heating every part of me as if
I am climbing into warm bath water. Ben places me on the bed, straddling me,
his hands on either side of my face. Gazing up at him a small smile crosses my
lips and I whisper, “You’re my most wonderful downfall.” I feel my eyes soften
at the corners and I swallow hard. His mouth presses firmly against mine, his
tongue parting my lips and invading my mouth. I’m gone. I moan as he enters me
and he responds, moving quickly. I feel my pulse and breathing increase. He
matches my hips as they move against him. His breathing turns erratic and his
lips cover my body in kisses so rapid that I can’t locate where they have
touched. When he stills inside me and says my name, I come with him. His eyes
are soft as he leans down and kisses me slowly. This is what I do to him. It’s
heady and relaxing, yet frightening that I have this much control over him. I’m
falling for him wholeheartedly and it’s all consuming.

I notice every detail about him, and
like a favorite movie, I can recall almost everything he has ever said to me. I
love the way he smells like nature, the outdoors—a smell that will
forever remind me of him. He’s reserved and casual to the point that he might
be called aloof. He chews Trident original flavor gum and on particularly
trying days he greets me with a quick kiss because the smell of cigarettes
lingers on his body. A habit he claims to have broken long ago, but I know he
still seeks the comfort of a cigarette on occasion. He loves beer and surfing. He
refuses to discuss politics with anyone, because in his words “it only causes
avoidable arguments.” He’s the kindest, gentlest, and sweetest person I know. He’s
perfect, perfectly wonderful. And I’m pretty sure he loves me. It is killing
me.

Ben knows very little about my life
before I met him. I share nothing, especially regarding my former serious
relationship. I don’t want it to seem like I’m hung up on my ex, which
obviously I am. But there’s no need to be so clearly desperate. Even without
its mention Ben somehow knows not to ask. I, in turn, give him the same
respect. There has always been a sadness in Ben’s eyes, something that called
to me the day we met. Even though I know without reservation that Ben is
damaged, I can’t bring myself to bear anyone else’s burden, too. So the past
stays silent.

As I step out of the shower I can
hear Ben rushing around my bedroom. He’s sifting through t-shirts looking for
one that, in his words, won’t make him look like he’s wearing a girl’s t-shirt.
He’s wearing a worn out, dirty pair of Levis and he couldn’t look more
seductive if he tried. He stands there shirtless with his jeans hanging loosely
from his hips. I can’t help but smile when I’m around him and I know deep
within me that I want to love Ben Torres. Maybe someday I will or maybe I
already do. He pulls an unsuspecting t-shirt from my drawer and swipes it over
his head. Looking down he notices that he’s wearing my Princess Half marathon
t-shirt from Disneyland.

“Damn it! Don’t you have any t-shirts
that aren’t plastered with girly shit?” I laugh out loud and join him at my
dresser wrapped in a towel. I reach into the drawer and pull from the bottom a
t-shirt that I got from one of the many swag bags that my work receives daily. It’s
from an organic shampoo company and it will have to do. He tosses the princess
t-shirt on the bed and grabs me around the waist in one rapid movement. “I love
starting my morning with you,” he whispers into my wet hair. “It’s better than
coffee and you know how much I love coffee.” He makes me smile for the
umpteenth time this morning.

“Me too, but not that whole coffee
thing, you know I hate coffee.” I wrinkle my nose at him and he kisses my
forehead before he rushes away.

Hurrying in the opposite direction, I
quickly slip on a bra and underwear. I have to be at the office in an hour,
which will be cutting it close and I know he’s already late. It’s 7:15 and Ben’s
workday begins far too early even for me. Standing in front of the mirror, I
whip my hair into a bun, I add bronzer, blush and mascara to my luckily
flawless skin and brush my teeth all in record time. I apply my usual cherry
chapstick and it’s a moment like this that I’m glad I have never been high
maintenance.

I take a deep breath, gather my
laptop bag and slip my feet into a pair of butter yellow open toed sling backs.
I shuffle out of my room pinning a yellow flower that matches my camisole and
shoes to the lapel of my pale blue and white seersucker suit jacket.

Stumbling through the kitchen, I try
to accomplish more tasks than necessary for one person. Ben is waiting for me
at the door to the garage, grinning as Roxy anxiously awaits her car ride at
his feet. “It’s like sleeping with two different women,” he says. “I get the
messy, sweaty girl and now I get the hot, sexy business women.”

 
I shake my head and shove him out the
door as he reaches for me. “We’re both going to be late if you don’t get
moving,” I respond sternly.

“I know. I’m already late and I still
need to swing by my place and pick up my work truck.” Yet he moves slowly
encircling me in his arms pulling me against his firm chest.

Glancing up at him, I say, “You’d
better hurry, I heard your boss is a real asshole. A stickler for punctuality.”

Ben owns a landscaping and pool
company in El Segundo, but the majority of his customers are wealthy business
owners or high profile celebrities out in L.A. and in the nearby beach
communities. He places his hand under my chin and tips my face up until my lips
are level with his. He plants a soft, lingering kiss on my mouth and I feel my
lips swell. “What am I going to do with you?” Shaking his head, eyes closed. “Have
a good day, baby. See you tonight?” he asks releasing me.