A Life More Complete

---Chapter 28---

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 a*shole 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 f*cking 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.

Thinking about my father’s words made me question my methods and my relationship altogether. Was that what we were doing? Were we fighting for love or were we just fighting? I know in the beginning, each time Tyler and I got back together things were perfect. It’s nice to feel loved and wanted. There’s something to be said for that. It can make the negative appear invisible. It takes over and nothing else matters. It can make you do stupid things, make you choose blindly and make you irrational. Love, it’s like a flask full of peach schnapps when you’re seventeen, ruthless and unkind yet so wonderfully delicious. I’m not even sure at this point either one of us knows what we are fighting for and even more, is it worth it?

I climb in the car and back out of the driveway. Tyler doesn’t chase me and part of me is devastated. I’d guess the part that is still craving a normal family and a loving husband and the other part of me doesn’t care in the least. Unfortunately, the L.A traffic gives me too much time to dwell on our most recent argument and I am now left feeling guilty. By the time I arrive at the hotel and check in, I’m overcome with guilt. The urge to call Tyler is beyond words as I slide the key into the door and dump my suitcase in the entryway. I pull my phone from my purse and call him.

“I knew you’d call,” he says, but it’s not condescending. I can hear a small amount of happiness in his voice.

“I knew you’d answer on the first ring,” I reply back. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are and I’ve already told you I am too. This is who we are. We’re never going to change. We try each other’s patience, we know what makes the other angry and we do it because we can.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore. I want us to be normal.”

Someone knocks on the door to my room. I smile knowing it’s him. Opening the door he pulls me into his arms and I give in immediately. I’m hoping this is the moment when Tyler comes to his senses. I want this to work so badly.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” he asks already slipping off his shoes.

I fall asleep in Tyler’s arms, his hand resting on my stomach, but when I board the plane the next morning I’m alone.