A Life More Complete (6 page)

“You at dinner?” I ask.

“Yes, just ordered. Nearly finished a
bottle of wine,” she laughs. We both know full well she’s not old enough to
drink and if the restaurant has any idea who she is they know, too. “I’m here
with Luke and when we’re done, we’re going out clubbing.” Luke is Trini’s actor
boyfriend. He’s a prick and the worst kind, a young, rich, actor prick.

“Be careful. I don’t want to deal
with any more crap tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. Bye, Krissy.”

My phone dings with a text and it’s
from Ben. I smile and open it.

Ben: Coming over. Be there in an hour. Me and my bed missed you today
.

I quickly text him back.

Me: Good. I’ll get dinner. Just leaving now...seriously
.

I add in that last part because I
know he thinks I’m full of shit. More times than I can count I have uttered
that phrase and stayed at the office for several more hours. Today was a good
day. I don’t know when I started to hate my job. I thought it would be one of
those things that built over time, but it snuck up on me. Suddenly it was there
and I couldn’t shake the feeling. I thought maybe I’d just lost focus and eventually
it would return, but each day I set about the same path with the same fake
smile and the same worn out drive that lingered no matter what. I used to love
my job and all the excitement and travel that came with it. I would send my
best friend Gia pictures of me standing in front of landmarks in New York City,
on a yacht or in a seaplane headed to some obscure island.

I try to pinpoint exactly when it
became a chore, a task, something I despised, yet I can’t put my finger on it. I
know it was a few years after I started. Somewhere between Trini’s meltdown in ‘03
and getting bitch slapped by a former client in ‘04. I just know this is not
where I pictured myself when I double majored in journalism and public
relations. I didn’t intend to stay on with Ellie for more than a few years, but
I got sucked in. I needed a job and she offered me one. Being on my own didn’t
help and when the money began to roll in I knew I couldn’t leave.

I pick up Chinese food on the way
home and Ben and I eat on my balcony. We finish eating and settle on the couch.
I curl up against Ben as he slouches down and flips through the channels. Roxy
hops next to me and spins in a circle before coming to rest against my legs.

“Did you work today?” I ask.

“Yeah. I did. I’m a sucker. What can
I say?” He yawns and pulls me closer to his body. “How was your day?”

“Fine. The usual crap. Answered
emails, too many phone calls, Trini did something stupid.”

“No shit? What’d she do now?”

“Didn’t wear underwear and the
paparazzi caught it on camera. I’m sure your ex from high school is judging her
right now.” He laughs and I feel his chest rise and fall against my head.

“She never learns, does she? But if
she did I guess your job would be pretty dull.”

“Right now I’d give anything to be
cleaning pools instead of this shit.”

“I know where you can get a job, but
just know the grass isn’t always greener,” he says as he shrugs his shoulders.

“I just might take you up on that
offer. But right now I have a better offer.” I stand up and reach for his hand
tugging him toward the bedroom. His eyes widen and he comes willingly.

We lay together my body curled around
his. “Are you staying tonight?” I want his answer to be yes more than anything.

“Of course. You might pull the rug
out from underneath me at anytime, so I’m sticking to you like glue.” He
reaches over and gently brushes a loose strand of hair out of my eyes. His hand
lingers as his fingertips trail along my cheek, then trace my lips. I sigh at
his touch, longing to be closer to him, to feel him against my bare skin. He
relaxes me in a way no one ever has.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ben. I can’t
resist you.”

“You did for so long. I don’t know
what changed your mind, but I’m glad it did.” He leans down and kisses my
forehead. “I’m going to get a glass of water. You want anything?”

“No, thanks. I’m gonna take a shower.”

I emerge from the shower only to see
my BlackBerry blowing up on the nightstand. Four phone calls, two voicemails
and a text, all from Trini. I ignore them. I don’t even bother to read the text
or listen to the voicemails. I flip it over face down and turn the ringer off. I
throw on some clothes and head off to find Ben. He isn’t in bed, so I skip toward
the kitchen to see what’s keeping him. A smile still plastered across my face. I
find him in my extra bedroom. Coming up behind him, I place my hands at his
shoulder blades and trail a line of soft kisses across the muscles in his back.

“What are these?” he asks pointing to
the wall covered with framed maps I’d torn out of an atlas. The United States, Illinois,
Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Utah, Nevada and California, all framed individually
and clustered on one wall.

I smile. “Those are the maps my
stepdad, Tom, used to draw my route from Naperville to Long Beach when I left. That
was before GPS and cell phones. I still can’t believe I made it here. I was
clueless.”

“I like his notes,” Ben says pointing
to the one labeled, “Rule # 1.” He reads it and laughs. “‘If it sounds hokey it
is hokey.’ So true. Your stepdad is a wise man.”

“Ex-stepdad. I’m pretty sure these
maps were the demise of his marriage to my mom. She was completely against me
coming out here, so him helping me was the most absolute showing of betrayal. My
favorite is the one written on Nevada that says, ‘Always get your own drink at a
party.’ He was paranoid I was going to get roofied. He was a Chicago city cop,
then the chief of police in Naperville, so I can’t blame him, he’s seen a lot.”

“Oh my God, does that actually say, ‘Don’t
let anyone search your car. Tell them to get a warrant.’? This coming from a
cop, interesting.”

“That’s what it says. Like I said, he’s
seen a lot.”

Ben inches closer and scans the maps.
He laughs and points to a few more notes. “This is really great,” he says as he
indicates toward the maps. “Slightly paranoid, but in a good way.”
 

“I know, but looking back, I’m glad. I
really had no idea what I was doing or where I was going.”

Ben reads a few more of Tom’s
comments out loud and by the time he’s done we’re laughing so hard that tears
fall from our eyes.

Later on while we are lying in my bed
Ben says, “I think I’d like your stepdad,”

“You would. He’s awesome. Tom is a
brilliant, genius of a man. Diplomatic and unwaveringly cool. He really did an
amazing job parenting three girls that didn’t belong to him. My mother, being
the shitty parent that she was had Tom talk to us about sex. It is by far the
best memory I have of him.”

Thinking about Tom makes me giggle
and so I decide to tell him the story that Rachel, Maizey and I still laugh about.

 
“So, my mother enlisted him to discuss
the evils of alcohol and drugs with my sisters and me, which I found strangely
fascinating since she firmly believed he should have no part in the rearing of
her children. He was an expert on the perils of drug abuse, my mom said, since
he was a cop and all. If she wanted an expert opinion she should have gone to
my father.” Ben listens closely and I can see his need to understand me growing
with every word I share. “How he got conned into the sex talk, I still don’t
know, but he did. He sat the three of us down to give us “the talk”. The funny
thing was that I had lost my virginity just two weeks before that. My sisters
and I developed early. I felt for Tom. He had to deal with the fact that we
looked far older than we were and his police-induced paranoia caused him to
lecture us daily. Rachel looked twenty-five at fourteen and was a dead ringer
for Jenna Jameson.” I pause a minute and Ben says nothing, but his smile causes
me to continue. “It’s hard to fight off the boys when you look like that,” I
joke. “I knew the minimum there was to know about the actual act of sex. I knew
at the time you put A into B and if you weren’t careful you would end up with
product C. Product C was three kids in three years and that was enough birth
control for me. I also had this firm belief that my parents only had sex three
times during their marriage each time resulting in the conception of a child.”

Ben laughs out loud and tells me he
thinks that’s the viewpoint of all teenagers. I laugh with him and continue my
story. “My views were minimal and obviously outlandish. Yet I still chose to
have sex. Tom was completely open in his discussion. He told us, ‘Use a condom
because STDs are gross and a pregnant belly looks awful in a string bikini.’ A wealth
of knowledge.” I leave out the one part that stuck with me all these years. Tom
left the conversation with, ‘Remember don’t confuse sex for love. They are two
entirely different things that are easily confused.’ It’s those words that
haunt me to this day. I press in closer to Ben and feel the warmth from his
body ease my anxiety.

“Why don’t you have any pictures of
him?” Ben asks casually.

“I don’t have pictures of anyone. I
don’t like photographs. I find them fake, never a real representation of what
happened.” I sound bitter.

“Really? That’s a bit harsh, don’t
you think?”

“Not when I consider the pictures
that were in my house when I was growing up. My father was an abusive,
alcoholic, drug addict and the only pictures in our house showed everyone happy.
I learned to hate the forced smiles.” Thinking about my father brings a wave of
emotions I am not ready to deal with or discuss, so I push them away and I use
Ben to forget them. Somehow he knows not to delve too deeply and he lets the
conversation rest.

I stretch my body out so it matches
Ben’s and I lay my head on his chest. His arms wrap around me, warm and
comforting. I kiss his chest and slide myself down into the nook along the side
of his body. He curls around me and I reach for the light.

“Good night, Ben.”

“Night, Krissy.”

Sleep calls to me and curled up in
Ben’s arms makes it easier to answer it. My eyes close, as my breathing begins
to slow and match Ben’s as he sleeps next to me. A sudden noise jolts me from
that moment between awake and asleep. A pounding. It’s coming from my front
door.

I shake Ben. “Ben, Ben. Wake up. Someone’s
banging on my door.” I climb out of bed with Ben following me and Roxy trailing
close behind.

“I’ll get it,” he says running his
hands through his hair. “Stay here.”

“No! I’m coming with you.” I walk
close behind him, flipping on every light in the house as I go. He looks
through the peephole before opening the door.

“Shit! It’s Trini and she looks like
hell,” he says over his shoulder. He opens the door and she rushes in, pushing
him out of her way.

“What the hell?” she screams.

I mutter, “Great,” as she shoves me. Ben
begins to laugh, but quells it when he realizes it will only make things worse.
“Trini, it’s after midnight.”

“Why didn’t you answer any of my calls?
I’ve been calling you all night!” She’s screaming. Her eyes are red-rimmed from
crying, her nose red, lips swollen.

“What is going on?” I can hear the
panic in my voice.

“I’m fucking pregnant!” she hisses
and I can smell the alcohol on her breath. Out of the corner of my eye I see
Ben leave the room.

“What? How? Are you sure?” I mumble
out a series of questions.
How? Did I
really just say that?

“Yes, I’m sure! Three tests! Three
fucking tests! All the same!” Her voice is loud and shrill.

I stand there staring at her not sure
what to say. My face shocked, my eyes wide with fear and sympathy. There is no
way she is equipped to cope with this, nor will her career or her lifestyle
allow her to deal with it privately. Thrust into the spotlight, her entire life
has been scrutinized by the world for so long, this too will become public
speculation.

“Does anyone else know?” I ask
quietly hoping the answer is “no”.

“Just Luke. And now you and...” she
pauses and says Ben’s name with disgust.

“Trini, you know he won’t tell
anyone.” We make our way to my extra bedroom and climb onto the bed. “What did Luke
say?” I question.

“He told me we’d be done if I didn’t
have an abortion.” Tears begin falling from her eyes. I pull her into a hug and
she wraps herself around me like a small child. She cries in my arms for a long
time before pulling away. I let her cry as long as she needs. I know what it
feels like to be told to control your emotions and I would never begrudge her
the ability to grieve. I know she’s already made her choice, but I still ask.

“What do you want to do? Just know
that this is your choice.” I don’t lecture her. I wouldn’t dare, not at a
moment like this. I know she thinks she loves Luke and I would never tell her
otherwise. She is too young to understand that life changes, people change,
they grow apart and Luke won’t always be the center of her world. She’ll
realize it, someday.