A Life More Complete (16 page)

Tyler asks me if I want to stay and
have a drink by the pool. I’m beginning to lose trust in my conviction to stay
away from him, so I decline. He steps out of the car and leaning down through
the open door, he smiles at me. His eyes are pale blue, almost transparent,
peaceful and confident. I could get lost just staring at them and I do for a
moment.

“It was great seeing you again. I’m
sure I’ll see you around,” he says.

“Yeah. I guess we’re together now,” I
say winking at him. The look on his face tells me he remembers this line. It
was the same line he used on me the day we met.

“Kristin, are you flirting with me? Shameless,”
he says, shaking his head with a devious smile on his face and I know he is
anything but offended.

“Me? Never. I’ll see you around,
Tyler.” He begins to close the door and I stop him. I hand him my business card
and tell him to call if he needs anything. I know he is new in town and I’m
just trying to be hospitable or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I decide to go home and finish
working from there. I change into a pair of cotton shorts and a black and white
polka dot bandeau bikini top and park myself on my balcony. It’s unseasonably
warm for March, ninety-three degrees and the sun makes me smile. Living in
California you become spoiled by the beautiful weather, yet regardless of how
long I’ve been here I still take in what it has to offer. I finish working
around 4:30, as a text causes my phone to buzz on the table beside me.

Ben: I’m sorry I upset you today. I hope the rest of your day went
better.

The time with Tyler allowed me to
forget about the gaping hole that was left by Ben’s departure just three days
ago. But with the text it returns, sinking in and deeper than before. I can
feel my heart begin to hurt as it has for some time now. I hate it. I hate the
pain and the ache and the mindlessness that has become my life. But I know I
need to guard my heart to avoid the weakness that can take over so suddenly. The
thought of isolation crosses my mind. It’s the only way, to rid Ben from my
life.

Me: I’m fine, please don’t apologize. Sometimes it doesn’t last and this is
one of those times. Best of luck to you.

If I’m anything, I’m pragmatic. The
message is to the point and when he doesn’t reply I know I’ve definitely
isolated him. I’ve isolated myself, our whole relationship. Ignore it. It will
go away. At least that’s what I think until someone knocks on my door about
half an hour after I sent the text. I overlook the knocking and continue
flipping through the channels on my TV when my phone buzzes again. I can’t help
but feel slightly annoyed at Ben’s determination. I grab my phone and scroll to
the text.

Unknown: Are you gonna answer your door?

I’m taken aback. The number is not
one I recognize and a slight panic rises in me. Who sends a creepy text like
that? I know it’s not Ben. He’d never intentionally intimidate me or try to
scare me. I set my phone down and try to ignore the text just as another one
comes in.

Unknown: You said to call if I needed anything. Yet, you’re ignoring me.

I walk to the door and pull it open
and there he is in a pair of jeans and an old worn in Cubs t-shirt. I step
aside and he walks in.

“Stalker? How do you know where I
live?”

“I called your boss, so yes, I am a
stalker. I was hoping you could show me around.” He looks me up and down and I
feel self-conscious, like a sixteen year old. “Like I said, too skinny.” I
shake my head at him and he follows me into the living room.

“Have a seat, I’ll be right back. There’s
beer in the fridge if you want one.” I move quickly toward my bedroom and pull
on a bra and t-shirt and return to the living room. His feet are on my coffee
table, crossed at the ankles, a beer in his hand as his eyes are trained on the
SportsCenter
top ten for the day. He
turns and smiles at me. I’m far more nervous around him than any twenty-eight
year old should ever be. He takes a long drink of his beer and then says, “You
didn’t have to change just for me.”

“So, do you want to see the beach?” I
ask, overlooking his comment.

“Sure. Can we walk or should we drive?”

“Drive. It’s a few miles, unless you
want to walk it.”

“Let’s walk,” he says, winking at me.
“We can catch up, maybe have dinner?”

“You seem to be making it a habit. Dining
with me?” He laughs and says I’m great company. “There’s a really good Mexican
place on the beach. The fish tacos are to die for.”

“Perfect,” he says as he stretches
out his hand in an effort to get me to take it. I just look at him and he drops
it to his side. “It was worth a shot.” He smiles again and it wears on me. Each
smile breaks me down just a little bit.

Sitting together at a picnic table, we
eat our tacos and black beans, rice, chunky guacamole, the usual. It’s the way
it was before things turned ugly.

“You can still eat like I remember. A
metabolism like a hummingbird,” he says watching me as I inhale the tacos as
quickly as he does. He’s right. I eat like a midwestern girl, not like the girls
who were born and raised on the beaches of California. I love food too much.

“Good genes,” I reply nonchalantly. “At
least I got something positive from my mother.”

“Can you believe you live here?” he
asks looking out at the water. The beach is quiet, waves rolling in as they pull
away leaving sandy foam in their path. It’s as beautiful as it looks in the
movies.

“I know. I love it here. Sometimes I
feel like the people who live here take it for granted, become immune to its
beauty, but not me. Never. It took far too much for me to get here.” I don’t
say it but I owe Tyler a lot. He’s the reason I’m here.

When my grandparents died my sisters
and I inherited a significant amount of money. It was specified in the will
that we were to use the money as we saw fit, but suggestions were posted to
obtain a college degree and purchase a home with the money. Being on my own, I
hoarded the money, terrified of being unable to support myself. I spent a
minimal amount of my inheritance during my four years in college. Tyler covered
my living expenses, my food, and at one point, my tuition for my entire
sophomore year. I paid cash for my first year at CSULB and planned on taking
student loans for the rest. I needed the money I had from my inheritance to
sustain me until I found a stable job. Tyler stepped in and paid my tuition in
full. He never said it, but I knew it was him. He covered the next semester too
when the bill came. He is the reason I finished college, the reason I had the
money to buy a car when mine was a goner and the reason I live in the home I do
today. My inheritance would have only lasted so long and he knew I couldn’t go
back.

“I’m supposed to go look at places
tomorrow with a real estate agent. I was hoping you’d join me. Give me a hand? Your
opinion?” he asks.

I hesitate and then answer him. “It’s
nice of you to ask, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’ll be fine on your
own.”

“Are you sure? I’d just like your opinion.
Nothing more. I promise. I won’t even buy you lunch,” he teases. He can see the
reluctance in my eyes, so he folds his hands in front of him and says, “Please.”
I’m weak, so I give in. He looks far too thrilled with himself and it makes me
smile.

Tyler pays for dinner and we walk
along the beach. The wind has picked up and it runs over me causing me to
shiver. Goose bumps rise on my skin from my arms down to my legs. Tyler reaches
over and runs a slow soft hand down the length of my arm. I hold my breath. His
touch burns my skin and my fingertips begin to tingle. I turn away from him
quickly, my eyes focused on the sand.

“Are you cold?” he asks, running his
hand back up my arm. The air in my lungs blows out on its own accord. This time
my breathing speeds up and turns uneven.

“Yes, but now it’s more than just
that.” The words stumble from my mouth, disjointed; a mess. “Don’t touch me. It’s
just that I...I don’t know. I can’t have you touching... doing, um, that stuff.
It makes me, I don’t know. Just don’t. That’s all.” I have no idea what I just
spewed from my mouth, and I can tell by the look on Tyler’s face that neither
does he. But his words tell me my point is made.

“Okay, sorry. I didn’t realize it
made you so uncomfortable. To me, it’s like we picked up right where we left
off. It doesn’t feel like I haven’t seen you in seven years. With you it’s
easy. It always has been.”

“Sorry. I’m being ridiculous.”

“I just remember you were always
cold. No matter how warm it was outside you’d still sleep with a down comforter
on the bed. Made me sweat my ass off.” He laughs and I playfully elbow him as
we walk.

“Still am and you’re not the only one
who complains about the down comforter.” This is where I decide to tell him
about Ben. “My ex really hated it, too. Complained constantly, even more than
you.” I take a deep breath. “We broke up recently.” I fail to mention just how
recently, like just over seventy-two hours ago.
What the hell am I doing?
“We’d been together for a while. I guess
around three years, but it didn’t work out. It happens, right?” He nods his
head but doesn’t comment. We walk in silence the rest of way home until I spot
his car.

“Really, Tyler? A Range Rover? Come
on?”

“What can I say? I succumbed to the
pressures of high society. Without you around to keep me grounded I just couldn’t
stop myself.” He smiles a closed mouthed smile and his eyes wrinkle a bit at
the corners. All I can do is laugh. “Well, good night, Kristin or can I call
you Krissy?”

“If you must,” I reply. He extends a
hand to me. I look down at his hand as I put my hand on his chest. I lean in and
place a soft kiss on his cheek. I can feel his heart beat quicken under my
hand. It has the same effect on me. “Good night, Tyler.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow around
8:00,” he says quietly, slightly askewed. “Unless that’s too early.”

“Nope. 8:00 is fine,” I say as I walk
away.

I immediately notice that the dull
ache in my chest is gone replaced by a desire to be close to Tyler. It takes
only a second for me to realize the best way to get over Ben is to find a
rebound. It will dull the pain long enough for me to move on. Being with Tyler
curbs my need for Ben, eases my pain, but with Tyler there are conditions,
outside factors that could make it difficult. It’s when we cross the line from
harmless flirting to something more that things get complicated. I’ve been
there before and I’m pretty sure I’m teetering on the edge right now.

I call Melinda as soon as I close my
door. She picks up on the first ring and lays into me immediately.

“Ok, spill,” she says.

I mill around my house picking up
shoes and socks, tossing a load of laundry in while I deliver the whole story. I
start from the beginning, our beginning. I tell her how we met in high school
and then went to college together. I tell her about the cheating and how I
slept with his best friend. She gets the whole story and everything in between,
even the stupid boring details. She interjects for clarification and laughs
with me and at some points I think she feels my pain. Everyone’s been there.
The break ups and the makeups and the really terrible times when things were so
bad.

“He’s totally hot,” she says.

“I know. Disgusting, isn’t it? I
still can’t believe this is happening. He’s married.”

“Holy shit! No way? You managed to
leave that out of the story. Are you sleeping with a married man?” Only Melinda
would ask that question. To her that’s the ultimate scandal and since we’ve
seen that scenario play out on many occasions with our clients, I’d have to
agree with her. You’re forever labeled, a slut, a home wrecker, a whore,
everyone knows what they say about “that girl”, the one who leads a husband
astray.

“Um, Mel, I’m not sleeping with him
at all and anyway, he’s getting a divorce.”

“So you’ve thought about it, then? Otherwise
you wouldn’t care if he were married. Either way, you should totally sleep with
him. He’s probably way better in bed than he was when you were young. Plus he’s
totally hot. Did I mention that already?”

“I’m not going to sleep with him.” Even
as the words leave my mouth I don’t believe them. I can’t stop thinking about
him and I’m pretty sure even though I’d put up a fight, I’ll give in
eventually.

“Whatever. Tell yourself whatever you
need to. What’s his wife like anyway?”

“Her name is Charlotte...” Melinda
interrupts me before I can finish.

“Like Tracksuit Charlotte?” she asks.
This is why I love Melinda.

“That’s exactly what I thought!”

“Yucky,” Melinda says in response.

“I know. I don’t know much about her,
except that she’s a lawyer too and it sounds like it ended badly.”

“Perfect. Move in. He’s on the
rebound. So are you. Couldn’t be more fitting.”

“No,” I say just as I hear a knock on
my door. “Hold on Mel, someone’s knocking.”