A Life More Complete (36 page)

“You guys want to eat at Maggiano’s?”
I ask knowing that the only thing that will make our day better is food.

“Abso-freakin-lutley,” Rachel hoots
from the backseat, reaching around with her arm encircling me with a headlock. She
places a kiss on my temple and releases me. The irony is lost on her. My life
with Rachel mimics my life with Tyler. I know she’d beg to differ on the
subject so I don’t bring it up.
 

Rachel and I have always been
argumentative. It’s the nature of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean that
sometimes it doesn’t hurt.

The next day, we all meet at the
funeral home in Oak Park for what will be forever known as the longest day of
our lives. My sisters, their husbands and I are given an hour to say our good-byes
to a man that none of us really knew, but stood by because in the end we’re all
that’s left. A waxy, heavily made-up figure lying horizontal in a wooden box
with his hands folded perfectly over his waist. I can’t even tell if he
resembles himself, as I don’t know him. Wearing a suit that was pulled from his
closet in an attempt to appear presentable, although I remember little about
him, I know that in life he was rarely presentable. Drunk and belligerent, coupled
with the cocaine withdrawal tended to lead him down a path of hiding and
seeking more. A continuous cycle. And when we were finally presented with the
preliminary autopsy results none of it’s shocking. My father died of cirrhosis
of the liver, the same disease that claimed the life of his own father many
years before. When the question was posed regarding a more thorough autopsy the
response was unanimous. No need.

The hospitality room is set with
large trays of pinwheel sandwiches and platters of cookies, carafes of coffee
permeating the small room with its overwhelming aroma. The hours slip by and no
one comes. The day fades and a few people shuffle through the door and
introduce themselves. Old neighbors, childhood friends, an AA sponsor from
twenty years ago, but no one of substance, no one from his recent life, all
with condolences, but with that look of harbored sympathy for his tortured
children. Rachel’s mother and father-in-law make an appearance along with Kevin’s
brother and sister; all attending from out of town, yet here to support what
has now become their family. Gia’s parents hug and kiss each one of us with
prayers and kind words. But everything is minimal. No one stays long, no one eats
the food, no one can look us in the eye. Later in the evening, Gia and David
come and stay longer than anyone; nonetheless it doesn’t make the loneliness
any easier. When the time comes to end the wake my mother still hasn’t shown
up. For me to expect anything different would have been unwise, yet to this day
I still do. Waiting on my mother promises nothing but emptiness. It’s like
waiting on rain in the desert, only sadness looms when day in and day out you
wait but the sky brings nothing. You wait for that one-day when it will open
up. You hope for something wondrous, but it never comes.

The three of us stay an hour after
the wake service commences. Each one of us knowing exactly what we are waiting
for, but none of us saying it. When it doesn’t happen, it breaks us; it takes a
piece of us and never lets go. We leave, accepting the fact that she’ll never
come through, her ability to care is non-existent.

The day is so draining that Tyler is
the last thing on my mind when I arrive back at the hotel. I plug my phone in
and begin the daunting process of writing a eulogy for my father’s funeral mass
tomorrow. Somehow I was appointed when I wasn’t looking. After a small attempt
at arguing with my sisters I gave in.

I pull out my laptop set to create a
eulogy that will rival even the best. Ten minutes pass and that feeling of
greatness is fading fast. The words won’t flow, my mind is blank, and when it
does finally clear all that’s left is indifference.

Hating my parents would make this
easier. The dilemma is that I don’t. Among the mess that was my childhood I
should harbor some serious hatred, but it isn’t there. I honestly feel for them
and how they chose misery over seeking pleasure from their life. My thoughts
bounce around in my head as I wonder if anyone could legitimately hate their
parents. I hated their actions at times, but I always felt an overwhelming need
to forgive and let go. Harboring feelings of hatred would eventually lead me to
be bitter and angry. I would become my mother. The one person I looked at as
guide as to what not to do. With that, I begin the furious typing of my father’s
eulogy.

Somewhere near an hour into my second
editing session my BlackBerry lights up on the little hotel desk discreetly
tucked into the corner of the room. I try to ignore it for what seems like a
lifetime, but it’s really more like three seconds. I don’t actually get up. I
won’t be appeased with a late night text message from Tyler anymore. His
apology needs to come in the form of some serious groveling coupled with major
attempts to make me happy for once. I won’t be bought with expensive gifts and
half-assed apologies only to be plagued with annoyance by him a few moments
later. Ten minutes pass and the phone blows up again, this time three times in
a row. My only thought is...work. Everyone in the office is aware that I’m out
of town for my father’s funeral and even if they don’t know the situation I
would hope they have the respect to not contact me. In addition to letting
everyone in the office know, it is included in my out of office reply for my
email, duly noted that I am in fact attending a funeral. I purposely include
the detail about it being my father, since most of my clients have this belief
that I was created out of thin air to only serve them. I can’t imagine that any
one of them would have the gall to contact me now. Watching the phone light up
like the Fourth of July for a fourth time, I’m like a moth to a flame. Before
getting up I hit save on the work I have spent the last two hours pouring over.

I grab my phone in a huff like I’m
suddenly perturbed by the fact that I was forced to leave my place in bed, when
in actuality I feel I have let my annoyance with Tyler fester just long enough.
Picking up the phone I find three missed calls from Tyler, one voicemail and a
text from Tyler. The text ambiguous in nature, which is none too surprising,
far be it from him to actually admit guilt immediately. All the text says is, “Sorry
to bother you, but call me.” The voicemail is reticent of the text, but hearing
his voice makes my heart rate skyrocket even with every attempt to control it. Obsessively,
I listen to it again trying to gage some interpretation of its meaning from the
tone in his voice, but find nothing. The third attempt brings nothing, except I
notice the absence of sound in the background. Closed up in his office? At home?
In a restaurant bathroom? He said he would be working all weekend, so I picture
him in his office because anything else will lead my thoughts to run amok with
craziness. As I debate whether to call Tyler back the phone rings. Looking
down, the screen notifies me that it’s Melinda and as much as I hate her right
now and the requisite two week anger period is still in effect, I answer.

“Hello?” I say flatly knowing exactly
who it is on the other end and not following through with my usual informal
greeting of “Hey Mel”.

“Krissy?” she says almost near
bewilderment at my answering of her call.

“Yeah.”

“Hey. I’m sorry about your dad. Are
you doing okay?” The tone in her voice is far more formal than I am used to and
I get the feeling that my dad’s death isn’t her sole reason for calling. The
opening to the conversation seems like more of a formality before she plunges
into the real reason for contacting me. It would be quite cold for her to call
and jump right into her reason without asking about my current situation.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Instead
of waiting around for her I come right out and ask, “Did you need something?”

“Um, yeah,” she mutters. “Trini was
arrested again last night. It was far worse this time around.” I cut her off
abruptly.

“You’re kidding me? What for? I
thought things were going better. I had lunch with her recently and I talked to
her before I left. Unreal.” I run my hand through my hair and lay down on the
bed.

“First off, she was driving. Enough
said right there. She’s on a suspended license. But worse, this time she backed
into a crowd of people outside of an L.A. club, drove off hitting several
parked cars along the way and then abandoned the car in a neighborhood
somewhere in south L.A. How she ended up there, I have no idea.”

“Where is she now?”

“Well, I think she’s at home. There
are two problems. The first one totally work related. She’s under contract for
that movie that began shooting last week. She missed her call time today. Just
didn’t show up. Do you want me to handle the statement the media is asking for
or do you want to take care of it?” She pauses to let me answer, but I can
sense there is more she wants to say, so I keep my answer brief.

“If you wouldn’t mind. I’ve got
enough to deal with here right now. I probably won’t be back in town until late
Wednesday or early Thursday. I’d appreciate it if you’d issue a statement. Make
sure I get a copy.”

“No problem,” she says kindly but
formally. This is highly unlike our working relationship and the tension is
beginning to wear on me.

“Hey, Mel?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I lost my shit at the bar.
We’ve been friends a long time and even though I’m still mad, I’ll get over it.”

“I know and I’m sorry, too. I don’t
know why I did that to you. I guess I was looking for something real. Ben is so
great; I just thought maybe I could have what you once had with him. It was a
poor choice on my part and I apologize. I never want to lose you as a friend.”

“Thanks. That means a lot to me to
hear you say that. We’ll get back to where we once were. I just need some time.
It was more than just you being with Ben, but I don’t really want to get into
that.”

“I know that right now things are
weird between us and all, but I have to tell you something.” I feel my
heartbeat begin to race as a feeling of nervousness runs through my body. My
hands shake and I can feel the sweat begin to form on my upper lip. Panic is
something I am familiar with, but it still takes me by surprise every time. A
lump has formed in my throat blocking all sound from being released and when I
don’t say anything she begins to talk quickly. “Tyler was with Trini.” I exhale
so loudly that it reverberates back into my ear through the phone. “I’m sorry,”
she says, yet I’m not sure what she is sorry about. “He wasn’t with her when
she was at the club, but he showed up shortly after she abandoned her car. The
paparazzi was following her and caught everything on camera.” I can feel my
panic turn to anger.

“He’s her lawyer, Melinda.” I
practically shout at her. “That’s his job. She is obviously having some kind of
legal trouble. Who else would she call?” By now my voice is several decibels
higher than necessary and if the people in the next room are sleeping they have
surely been woken up by my voice tearing through the paper-thin walls. “I’m not
sure I appreciate what you are insinuating here. He’s my husband and you’re
tossing around some serious allegations.”

“Krissy, I’m not insinuating
anything. I just thought you would like to know. I apologize if I’ve offended
you. I understand that things are strained between you two right now, so I
thought you’d want to know.” Damn that Bob! I should know better than to unload
my feelings on him.

“Thanks for your concern, but I’d
prefer to keep our relationship professional. If you’d please take care of that
statement and make sure I get a copy I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure. I’ll do that. Take care,
Krissy.”

“Good-bye, Melinda.” I hit the end
button hard and toss the phone at the desk. It hits the top with a clatter and
skitters across it flipping once before finally resting. I’m angry, but most of
all I’m hurt. Tyler is supposed to be working all weekend, yet he can drop
everything and rescue Trini. This isn’t new, but it still upsets me. I recall
my conversation with Maizey and I wonder when will I hit that breaking point? When
will I finally realize that I don’t matter in his world? I don’t even know how
I got to this point. It’s as if the last few months of my life went by in blur,
like I was in a coma and woke up to a totally different life. I don’t even recognize
myself anymore and the fact that I just defended Tyler to Melinda tells me that
everyone around me knows he’s an asshole. I would have mocked a person like me
and called them weak and spineless. I definitely wouldn’t have stuck around to
watch the shit show unfold. I am undeniably a sucker.

Even though I know it’s a mistake, I
call Tyler. I hope that his recount of the story reassures me that he in fact
didn’t dump everything and run to Trini’s side. The phone rings four times and
with each passing ring my agitation grows. When he answers on the fifth ring
the aggravation is tangible. I can hear it in his simple yet harsh answer, “What?”

“Hi, Ty. I got your message,” I say,
my tone far too sweet in response to his.

“So, I’m sure you heard already that
Trini was arrested again.” He hesitates and I can picture him running his hand
though his curly blonde hair and the thought makes me smile slightly. “Did you
want something? I’m still at the office and I want to finish up here so I can
go home.”