A Life More Complete

---Chapter 39---

With my anger seriously out of control, I set my plan in motion. I’m sure either Melinda or Ellie would’ve tried to talk me down, so I’m glad I hauled out of there. Right now I’m riding high on adrenaline, fueled by an intense desire to punch someone in the face. My phone is vibrating on the seat next to me only adding to my irrationality. I pick it up and the extensive amount of missed calls is ridiculous. I guess this shit has gone public. Train wrecks like this don’t happen every day. And this one is going to be big.

I’ve never hit anyone in my life, but the urge that courses through me is so over powering that it takes control. My fist connects with her face before my logical reasoning has a chance to catch up. It looks so effortless in movies. Bam! The person goes down. What is left out of a movie scene is the grotesque sound of cracking bones and the blinding pain that radiates to my elbow. Fortunately for me the deep guttural scream that comes from Trini’s mouth masks the cry that leaves mine. I take her down. She crumbles to the floor covering her cheek with her hand.

“Don’t speak. I don’t want your excuses or your reasons. None of them will ever validate what you have done to me. We’re done. I quit. We’ll just call it a conflict of interest.” I head toward the door dropping my key to her house on the hard marble floor. “And don’t even think about pressing charges against me for assault. I. Will. Lay. Your. Shit. Bare. Don’t underestimate me.”

For some reason, she finds it wise to follow me to my car. Her eye already swelling and blood trickling from a cut left by the imprint of a turquoise ring I’m wearing. I don’t feel sorry for her. I never will again in my life. Betrayal hurts worse than anything.

“Krissy, please,” she begs. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” Her words spur to life even more anger than I ever thought possible. She’s not sorry. There’s not a chance in hell she has given a second thought to the ramifications of her actions. It’s my job to publicly apologize for her momentary lapse in judgment, but not this time. She’s on her own.

“F*ck you. You don’t even understand what it means to be sorry. If you want him he’s yours. I’m not giving you my blessing. I just want you both gone. I’m going through the worst public humiliation of my life, but you won’t break me. You won’t win.”

She stops just short of the front of my car. “He doesn’t love you,” she says, her voice quiet, like she feels sorry for me.

“He doesn’t love you either,” I say and I see the look on her face that says it all. She wants to believe he does, but we both know it’s not true.

I slam my car door closed and peel out of Trini’s driveway as the swarms of paparazzi bombard my car with flashbulbs. I text Melinda and ask her to meet me at Tyler’s office. Although most of my serious anger is beginning to subside there’s one more thing that I need to do immediately. I know Trini is on the phone with Tyler right now crying her eyes out about how terribly mean I am. I know her better than I know myself. Tyler claims to hate attention-seeking girls, but he thrives on it, especially when it’s not me. That’s his game and it’s finally coming into focus. He breaks me down because he wants me weak and vulnerable, so I need to rely on him so deeply. He gets off on the attention it brings him and the pleasure he seeks from it.

I pull into the parking lot of his office, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of ending this shit show on his terms and in the comfort of his office. This time it is my ending. I slip the key to the car into the manila envelope that contains the pictures and leave it with the building receptionist. I leave no note, no explanation.

Melinda flies into the parking lot just as I’m walking out the office building. I climb into her car and breathe a serious sigh of relief. I know I only have a twenty minute head start on Tyler. Once he gets the envelope, he will be livid. I give Melinda directions as to where we are headed and she follows without question. Her eyes focus on my swollen and bruised hand.

“What happened to your hand?” she asks, as if she doesn’t already know.

“I hit her,” I reply.

“Only once?”

“Yeah,”

“That’s some serious restraint right there. I don’t think I could have stopped at one,” she laughs and I glare at her. “Sorry. I don’t know what else to do. You have to admit this is unreal.”

“Yeah, it’s unreal,” I answer but my voice is quiet. The reality is starting to hit me as I come down from my adrenaline rush. “Can you believe that slut? I thought she was my friend. All those years of defending her.” I can’t even finish my thought and suddenly the urge to punch something returns. “She has some f*cking nerve, but him. I can’t even begin. What the hell was I thinking?” My phone vibrates and I retrieve it from my purse reading the text message from Bob.

Bob: WTF! Mel just told me. Did you take her down?

Me: I hit her.

Bob: Thank God you weren’t packin’ heat. I don’t think it would’ve been pretty.

I can’t help but laugh at his text. So true, but I’d like to think I have more restraint than that.

Me: No guns. Just came down to fist-a-cuffs. I gotta go. A few more things to take care of. Call you tonight.

Bob: Stay strong sister. XOXO

Again, I can’t help but laugh. He’s completely ridiculous, but that’s why I love him.

Melinda pulls into the Home Depot near my house and I ask her to wait in the car. I’m in and out in about ten minutes. Tossing the bag on the floorboard of her car, I ask Melinda to take me home. She pulls into my driveway minutes later and I breathe a sigh of relief that Tyler didn’t beat me home.

“Do you need help with anything?” she asks.

“Nope. I think I’ve got it covered from here. Could you just let Ellie know I won’t be back in today? That is if I still have a job. I told her to, ‘f*ck off’ and then I jacked her highest paying client in the face. I’m pretty sure I’m a goner.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. She seemed genuinely concerned about you after you left. I think she’s actually worried about you.”

“Whatever. Right now I have far bigger things to worry about. I’ll deal with that tomorrow.”

“Alright. Call me tonight when the dust has settled.”

“Okay.”

I quickly go to work on changing the locks on my house. I reset the code on the garage door and reprogram the garage door opener even though it placed me on a ladder, teetering above the ground with my center of balance completely thrown off by my enlarged stomach. This is accomplished in under an hour and then I move onto the bedroom. I called a moving company from Melinda’s car and they show up just as I’m finishing the locks. As I toss Tyler’s clothes into boxes it quickly dawns on me that nothing in the house belongs to him. There is no jointly purchased furniture or television. No dishes to divide up. It all belongs to me and without a prenup in place; I’m guessing it’s all still mine. We married on a whim and never discussed anything pertinent besides the marriage. The house is still in my name only. My old car sits in the garage, so I at least have that to fall back on. But in the end, I can’t help but feel that all of this is some strategically placed move on his part. I don’t think he thought it would last and after hearing his words on Saturday night, the whole thing has been a lie. Our marriage built on a lie. I can’t act surprised. It was always there in the back of my mind.

The movers take away the boxes and with them they take the check for the first three months of rent on the storage unit. Even in anger I can’t seem to break away from him. Still making sure everything is okay. I’m pathetic.

Just as the moving truck is backing out of the driveway, Tyler’s SUV comes barreling down the street. I close the door and wait for him. Childish, I know. I could’ve easily met him in the driveway, but I want him to feel the full weight of my humiliation.

Several minutes pass and I know he is in the driveway pressing his garage door opener. When it doesn’t work instantly I can picture him pressing it again and again until I hear his feet on the steps to the front door. The key slides into the lock, but nothing. He begins to mutter, eventually turning to a low yell.

“Kristin! Open the goddamn door!” I slowly make my way over to the door and for once since hooking back up with Tyler I feel vindicated and relieved that all of this will finally be over. I don’t care about his response. It’s been years, but I can finally say I am, for once, not seeking his approval anymore. I deluded myself into thinking that the love of a good woman would change him. It doesn’t happen. This isn’t a fairy tale.

I open the door and he storms in tossing the envelope on the kitchen table. “What the f*ck!” he shouts. “You changed the goddamn locks? You’re being completely irrational, you know that, right?”

“Enlighten me, Tyler,” I say, my voice and my demeanor completely collected, but it carries a certain rasp that it’s never had before. “What about my reaction to your infidelity is irrational? This is the first time in six months that I’m being rational.”

“What the f*ck do you want from me?” he yells.

“Nothing, Tyler. I want nothing from you. I think everything that’s been done and said is plenty. I want you out of my life. I won’t keep you from the baby, but I want nothing to do with you.”

“I don’t want you or the baby. I thought I made myself perfectly clear on Saturday, but I guess I need to spell it out for you. I made a f*cking mistake, the biggest mistake of my life when I knocked you up and then I followed it up by marrying you.”

For as long as I’ve known Tyler I never expected him to become so vile. I can’t even stand to look at him right now. His expression is so filled with hatred and rage.

In a moment of weakness my stupidity creeps out, “Why her? Why not anyone else? How could a nineteen year old train wreck steal my husband?”

“She didn’t steal me, Krissy. I chose her.” Hearing his words brings back that feeling I had when I hauled into Trini’s face with my fist.

“Oh my God,” I say, my tone full of sarcasm. “That’s so sweet. I’m sure you’re going to tell me you love her.” I roll my eyes and hand him the card of the storage company.

“I do love her,” he says, lowering his voice.

“That’s rich coming from you. We’re done. Get out.” He walks away without saying another word. As the front door closes I collapse in the kitchen chair. I can’t do anything but cry.