A Life More Complete (33 page)

Looking over her shoulder at me and
for the first time since my walk on the crazy side, she addresses me directly, “Luckily
you didn’t make a fool of yourself in front of a bar full of people.” Her tone
full of sarcasm as she walks right into a pole in the center of the bar. Sometimes
it’s like the universe is on my side for once.

Bob drags me back to the table both
of us laughing so hard that tears are streaming down our faces. “Classic,” he
says.

“I know, right?” I respond picking up
a slider and inhaling it in one quick bite. “She didn’t even look as cute as I
do when I do something stupid. It’s part of my charm,” I say winking at Bob as
I chew up my second slider.

“Agreed,” Bob says picking up his drink
and clanging it against my water glass. “Now in all honesty, that was a hot
mess. What the hell was she thinking? And him, too?”

Driving home, I have calmed down just
slightly. I have time to assess the situation for what it really is. I’m upset
that someone I called my best friend betrayed me like that, but the heart of
problem still seems to hold firm over the fact that I harbor an unrequited love
for Ben. I’m disgusted that she took my relationship with Ben and turned it
into a trashy one night stand. She has no interest in Ben other than sleeping
with him and moving on. I also can’t believe he’s foolish enough to fall prey
to her game of hair flipping, eyelash batting, fake boobs in a push-up bra act
that makes her look so desperate for attention. I want to be angry with him,
but I can’t find it in me. Maybe that speaks volumes about how I feel about
him.

When I pull in Tyler is still not
home. I call him before I even exit the car and it goes straight to voicemail,
like always. Climbing into bed I text him while my laptop starts up.

Me: Where are you? It’s after 11.

I begin to search flights to Chicago
as I try to figure out how much of a hit I will take transferring my flight
from Atlanta to Chicago. One of the worst things about my father dying should
be his actual death, but unfortunately it isn’t. It happened to fall on the
same weekend that Rachel and I were supposed to visit Maizey in Georgia.

My phone vibrates on my leg as Tyler
responds to my text.

Tyler: Office

Me: I need to book flights for Thursday. You good with 8:15am?

Tyler: Flights for what?

Me: Uh...My dad’s funeral!

Tyler: Oh, yeah. I can’t go. I gotta work.

Me: I hope this is a joke.

Tyler: No joke. Can’t go.

Me: Come home. We need to talk about this.

Tyler: Busy. Talk tomorrow. Go to bef.

Me: Bef??? Seriously. Come home.

Tyler: Go to BED.

 
I launch my phone across the room and
that’s when the tears begin to fall. I like to think that I’m emotional from
the surge of excessive hormones that are running through my blood, but I know
it’s more than that. The thought of returning home alone scares me to death. I
haven’t heard my mother’s voice since leaving almost eleven years ago and I can
feel my stomach churn as I recall the conversation. I haven’t even given it a
moment to settle in with the all the drama surrounding Melinda and Ben and now
having to deal with Tyler and his holier than thou attitude. They say
everything happens in threes, well I guess I can call my shit storm of a day
done.

I book a flight for Thursday morning
and text my sister the details all the while sniffling and swiping tears before
they hit the screen on my phone. Right now the last place I want to be is
anywhere near my mother, not to mention the thought of identifying the dead
body of my father, a man I haven’t seen since I was nine years old.

I call Bob because right now I have
no one else to call. I know Maizey is crying like a baby and Rachel is acting
like nothing’s wrong, so that leaves them out. Calling Gia is totally out of
the question seeing it is now one in the morning. A middle of the night wake up
call will send her into a panic and that’s the last thing I want to do to a
mother of three who has problems of her own.

Bob answers immediately, probably
because he is still sequestered to his car on the ridiculously long commute
that he so willing obliged just to make me happy.

“You alright, honey?” he asks without
even saying hello.

“Yeah. I just need to vent to someone
right now. This shit with Melinda has me upset, and my dad dying and now Tyler
is being a total dick. He refuses to fly home to Chicago with me.” It comes out
whiny and I’m not surprised.

“Vent away.”

“I’m so pissed at Melinda right now I
can’t even think straight. I know we’ve been over this like a million times
already, but I’m just so mad. How dare she. I feel like her sleeping with Ben
somehow cheapens everything I ever had with him. I loved him. Doesn’t that mean
anything?”

“I’m gonna stop you right there. You
know I love you, baby girl, but you are a damn mess. He’s not your boyfriend
anymore. Your beef should be with Tyler. He’s the reason you’re so angry and
the reason you’re obsessing over Ben. Are you really gonna stay mad at Melinda
on a technicality? So, she went out with your ex. You’re married and pregnant
BY ANOTHER MAN!” he shouts so loudly I pull the phone away from my ear. When I
don’t say anything he begins again. “Mel is one of your best friends and I get
it, what she did was shitty, but get over it. I think it’s about high time you
took a look at your relationship with Tyler and ask yourself if it’s worth it.”

I can’t acknowledge his comments
about my marriage because there is far too much truth in his words. “I didn’t
plan on staying mad at Melinda forever. At that moment I couldn’t say, ‘I am
only going to be mad at you for two weeks,’ and then walk away. I think it
would’ve seemed insincere and far less dramatic. I need to let things settle
down between us, but eventually I’ll talk to her again.”

“Good. I’m not sure I could have
stayed neutral forever. But just so you know, I would’ve picked you if I had to
choose.” I know he’s smiling, I can hear it in his voice.

“Why do you have to be gay? Right now
we could be married and living a calm drama-free existence.”

“Honey, there’s no such thing. We’d
have killed each other a long time ago. Do you want me to come with you to
Chicago so you’re not alone? I could play the doting husband if you like?”

“You play doting husband better than
my real one ever could, but no. I’ll be fine. You don’t have to come. I just
never expected him to be so....”

“Heartless,” Bob says filling in my
words because I don’t have the resolution to say it myself. Saying it out loud
would be like admitting I failed.

“I gotta go. I’m exhausted. I’ll call
you tomorrow,” I say cutting the conversation short. The thought of delving any
deeper may bring me to admit my future with Tyler is unclear.

“Alright. Talk to you tomorrow. You
and that baby get some rest. Love you.”

“Love you,
too”

When I wake the next morning Tyler is
gone for the day and I resign myself not to contact him, which will be a huge
feat if I accomplish it. For some reason I just can’t let him go. I chase him
like a high school girl, which just pushes him away. Both of us will give each other
the silent treatment and eventually I’ll cave and forgive him because that’s
what I do. It’s just the way it is; he expects it. But today, I will not chase
him.

I show up at work and breeze by the
door to Melinda’s office and spend the better part of the morning avoiding her.
Sending things to the printer in marketing so I don’t happen to run into her,
going to the bathroom during our morning meeting, sending Maggie to scour the
lounge for crap to eat and something I never do, keeping my office door closed.
I’m getting so good at avoidance; if there were a career in it, I’d be the vice
president.

I leave for lunch and when I return
there is a little brown box on my desk. Happily, I hop over to it, beaming
smile, clapping my hands quietly as I sit down in my chair. Immediately, Tyler
comes to mind. I knew my silent treatment would pay off. Like I said, I’m so
good at avoidance it comes baring gifts. But when I flip the card open it says,

Hope today is better, cupcake.

Love you,

Bob

 
I open the box and pull out the Sprinkles
red velvet cupcake and let the sadness wash over me. I’m pathetic. My gay best
friend is sending me sympathy in the form of desserts, my husband is a straight
up asshole and I can’t stop thinking about my ex-boyfriend as I watch my friendship
with my former best friend crumble over a guy that was never really mine to
begin with. I stuff the cupcake in my mouth and call it a day.

When I arrive home there’s a car in
the driveway that I don’t recognize and, of course, my mind begins to fly
through a million unrealistic but semi-real scenarios. The first always being
that Tyler is cheating on me and he’s finally gotten up the nerve to bring his
tramp to our house and sleep with her in our bed. The next being that Tyler has
finally gone over my head and hired a cleaning lady without my permission. I
decline every time he asks. I’m far too OCD to have someone else clean my
house. I stop myself short on the cleaning lady part because the car is a Range
Rover and if the cleaning lady is driving a Range Rover then I’m in the wrong
business.

Tyler greets me at the door with a
kiss and a smile. It’s infectious and welcoming and I feel guilty that I chose
the silent treatment as my method of seeking attention. But in a way it worked.

“I’m sorry I was such a jerk last
night,” he says pulling me to him and nuzzling his nose in my hair. “I have a
surprise for you.”

“What?” I ask pulling away. He drops
the keys to a car in my hand.

“I feel badly for how I treated you
last night. I got you a new car.” He is far more excited by his lavish gift
than I am.

“So does this mean you’re coming with
me to Chicago?” I ask, the keys dangling from my index finger.

“No. I told you I have a case
starting on Tuesday. I have too much to do.”

“Then I don’t want the car,” I sound
petulant, but I don’t care. I won’t fall into the same trap we always do. He
has always bought my affection and my forgiveness so it’s hard to refuse. “These
belong to you,” I say dropping the aforementioned bribe keys in his hand.

“I’m trying to apologize. Why can’t
you just take it for what it’s worth?” he says following me into the bedroom.

“For what it’s worth? It’s worth
nothing. The only thing I really want is for you to come with me to my father’s
funeral and you won’t do that. So I don’t want the car, I don’t want your
apology and I really don’t want to look at you right now.” I storm into the
bathroom and close the door because I actually need to pee.

I can hear Tyler standing outside the
bathroom door before he speaks. “It’s not that I won’t go with you, I can’t. Honestly,
I have so much work to do it’s not even funny.”

“No one’s laughing,” I yell through
the bathroom door over the sound of the toilet flushing.

“You know what I mean. Stop being so obstinate.
I’m growing weary of your bullshit lately. I apologized, what more do you want?”
I can hear the vexation in his tone when he sighs deeply. I emerge from the
bathroom dead set on standing firm.

“What more do I want?” I roll my eyes
at him. “Because I am so fucking demanding to ask you to attend my father’s
funeral with me.”

I turn my back on him and drag my
suitcase from the closet. I begin tossing whatever I can get my hands on that
looks funeral appropriate into it. He stands in the bedroom while I finish
taking my anger out on my poor unsuspecting clothes.

“I’m staying at the Radisson near the
airport tonight. My flight leaves at eight and I don’t want to deal with the
traffic in the morning.” I pull the suitcase filled with god knows what and
prop it up by the door to the garage. I quickly change out of my work clothes
and into my nightly uniform of yoga pants and a t-shirt.

“Fine. Have a safe trip. I’ll be here
when you get back.” I would like to say I believe that he’ll eventually give in
and join me, but I’d be lying.

“So, you’re honestly not coming with
me?” I ask one last time just in case in the last five minutes he has grown a
conscience and it’s telling him to get his shit together.

“Haven’t we been over this?” He runs
his fingers through his hair and the blonde curls fall through his fingers
slowly.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” I
reply as I open the door to leave. Lugging my suitcase behind me, I toss it
into the trunk and wait.

Once when I was seven, my father
cornered me in the kitchen after he found me crying. He’d been screaming at my
mother, terrifying my sisters and me to the point of nearly wetting our pants. He
rarely spoke to me and when he did it usually left me feeling even more scared
than before, but this time was different. I remember his words to this day, he said,
“Sometimes people fight because they love each other so much. You have to fight
for something that you love.” It seemed like a novel concept to a seven year
old me, but in hindsight it was purely ludicrous. My mother ran out on him
shortly after that. She must have missed the memo on fighting for what you
love.