A Life More Complete (23 page)

“No,” he says as he sets me on the bed.
“I win. I have you.”

“You’ve always had me. No one will
ever beat you, so it doesn’t matter who came before or who came after. I love
you.” He leans in and kisses me so passionately it takes my breath away. His
need and urgency increase and I know he is seeking the one thing that will calm
and sooth him—me.

I shower for a second time, this time
with Tyler. He climbs out before I’m done and is dressed before I can even wrap
a towel around myself. I’ve never seen him look so stunning as he does right
now. He’s wearing a pale gray cotton suit jacket and matching slim fit pants. The
suit fits like a glove, it shows off the muscles in his arms and his flat
stomach with one button left undone. His shirt is pale blue and fitted. The
color a near match to his eyes. I always thought the idea of wearing a suit
without a tie was entirely pointless, but Tyler makes it look like an art form.
The top button of his shirt is loose making me want to trail kisses from its
starting point to the point where his pants hang low on his hips.

He makes me self-conscious as I slip
into a black cotton dress. Tying the satin sash around my waist as I examine
myself in the mirror. Not terrible, but definitely not up to the impeccably
high standard of the GQ model in the other room. I press my feet into the
t-strap Mary Janes that I borrowed from Melinda. I thank God that Tyler is tall
because the heels put me near five foot ten. I head into the living area in
search of Tyler’s opinion when he stops and looks at me briefly.

He narrows his eyes and says, “Are we
going to a funeral? I’m sure you’re pissed that your sister is getting married
before you, but seriously, all black? Did you bring anything else?” I’m sure
the look on my face is strikingly reminiscent to the one I gave him when he so
eloquently called me “a hooker”.

“Do you have any filter at all?” I
ask, nonplussed. I can feel my fingers begin to tap and I walk back toward the
bathroom trying to avoid the scrutiny that will come from presenting my OCD so
openly. I untie the sash and pull the dress up over my head and toss it onto
the bathroom floor. I can feel the tears fill my eyes and the lump form in my
throat. Will I ever be good enough? Will he always find fault in everything I
do? Normally I wouldn’t care nor would I allow anyone but Tyler to talk to me
the way he does. I’m unexpectedly disgusted with myself. Breathing deeply I
control my urge to scream at Tyler and pitch the ring at his head, all the
while keeping my tears at bay. I change into something I find repulsively non-wedding
appropriate, a pink tiered sundress and pair of flip flops.

“Better?” I ask as I enter the room. My
breath is huffy and my teeth gritted. I can’t even look at him. He’s sliding a
skinny black tie around his neck when he looks back at me.

“No. That’s worse. Go put the other
dress back on.” He doesn’t even take the time to turn around for more than a
second before returning to his tie.

“Fuck you. I’m going to the wedding
alone. You’re the last person I want there with me.” I turn on my heel and grab
the original dress and the shoes off the floor. I slam the door to the hotel
room for effect, which I’m sure is completely unnecessary, yet totally
necessary all at the same time. I storm out to the car. I’m not conforming to
his irreproachably high standards of appropriateness. I’m sick of the judgment
and ridicule for every action or word that is not the view that Tyler somehow
concocted of me in his mind. Yet, here I stand in the parking lot waiting for
him to follow me. Our relationship picked up right where it left off. I want
him to chase me and apologize and tell me he loves me.

I back out of the parking spot with
part of me still wishing for Tyler to appear. As I round the corner of the
parking lot I nearly hit him with the front end of my car.

“Get in,” I yell out the window and
he climbs into the passenger seat. He says nothing but he reaches across and
takes my hand. His fingers weave with mine and he places a small kiss on the
top of my hand. The kiss moves through my body like lightning. The chemistry
between us is undeniable. It might be the one thing that continues to save this
relationship time and time again. I want this; I want him more than I care to
admit. If I continue to run every time we have an argument, I’ll be running
without ever stopping.

I pull the car over onto the side of
the road as it rolls to a stop among the towering trees and crunching leaves. I
climb over and straddle Tyler’s lap taking him by surprise. I place my hands on
either side of his face and kiss him.

“I want this to be good. Can we stop
this? I need to know we will be okay.” He looks up at me with soulful eyes.

“This is just who were are. If it
were always easy, would either of us fight for it? We’ve been this way for as
long as I can remember, so why change now?” A small smile pulls at my lips. I
have to agree with him. Why stop now? We say stupid things. He evokes anger in
me I never knew existed and when that emotion mixes with my obsessive love for
him it forms into an intense longing and desire to be near him, touch him, feel
him against my body and I allow it to consume me entirely.

I take a deep breath and climb back
into the driver’s seat. I want this, but that feeling of regret still pulls at
the back of my mind. I mentally explain it away with the rationalization that
the engagement was quick and that’s what nags at me, yet I know, but won’t
freely admit it’s more than that. The rush that I get from being with Tyler is
hard to deny, and it’s even harder to walk away from. The thought make my chest
hurt, a painful tightening as if I have smoked a pack of cigarettes. Can we
make this work? Nothing is a given, but my need to try is crushing.
       

“Can we really do this?” I ask him. “I’m
damaged and you’re just as bad, but I want this to work. I want a family. I want
to correct the past. We can, right?”

“Whatever you want, I want it, too.” He
makes me smile big and bright. I put the car in drive and follow the road
without even thinking about it any longer.
           

As soon as I pull into the parking lot
of the state park where the wedding is being held, I scramble from the car full
of nervous energy. For the first time in my life I’m so excited to see my
sisters. I want to make things right. I have a longing to fix what was lost and
broken so many years ago. We have just minutes to spare as the two of us
briskly walk hand in hand to the rows of white wooden folding chairs. I pull
Tyler into the first available row and slip into the seats without even looking
around. He runs his finger over my ring absentmindedly and looks around. The
music kicks up and Rachel appears at the end of the white runner. I suck in a
breath and after that I remember nothing.

She’s standing alone. The image pulls
tears from my eyes and they fall soundlessly down my cheeks. No one to walk her
down the aisle, no one to give her away, this is our life. I didn’t expect to
have this reaction, yet my sentimental side supersedes control. Tyler clutches
my hand more firmly and brings it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss before
returning it to its resting place. Rachel moves slowly down the white plastic
aisle runner, a smile displayed on her face while her eyes seek the only thing
she can focus on—the man standing in front of her. She is in his
enthralls and his look tells me that there is not a single woman on the planet
that could ever compare to her.

Rachel looks like only Rachel can
look. How she was never tracked down and recruited for a reality TV show or
some ridiculous modeling call is beyond me. She looks straight out of a magazine.
Her dress off-white tulle and lace, gives her the look of a teacup turned
upside down. Her skin is flawless and her blue eyes set off by her tan and
exquisite makeup. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bride look as beautiful as she
does. I’ve been to far too many weddings and most of them were for clients who
could afford to buy the best of everything. Rachel puts them all to shame.

Tyler leans over and whispers in my
ear, pulling me from my thoughts. “Rachel looks amazing. I forgot how beautiful
she is.”

“I know. She’s so pretty.”

“Soon this will be us and there is no
way she will ever top you. Plus I have always been partial to brunettes.” He
winks at me and I can’t help but smile at him.

The ceremony is completed in less
than twenty minutes and Rachel and her adorable new husband, Paul make their
way to the tent that is adjacent to the ceremony site. Tyler and I hang back to
give her space. The last thing I want to do is bombard her on her wedding day
and although the number of guests is small, I still know there are people in
attendance who have more interaction with her in her day to day life than I do.
The ache to see and hug her is strong, much more apparent than I expected. I
have a newfound sense of family and with it comes the urge to right everything
wrong in ours. In addition, watching Trini destroy her life with drugs and
alcohol, it has only added to the fact that I need to make things right. I want
to create a relationship with my sisters that we should’ve had when we were
young.

Just as the seats are clearing out I
notice my sister Maizey rise from the front row. She looks completely different
than the last time I saw her. At that time drugs had taken over her body and
she looked nothing like the girl I grew up with. But now she’s gorgeous, long
dark hair, nearly the same shade as mine, beautiful blue eyes and immaculately
dressed. Before, Maizey had been sloppy, unkempt and disheveled, her hair
always dirty and her skin flawed with acne. The same can’t be said for her
today.

We notice each other at precisely the
same moment and her face mirrors what I feel mine must look like. We embrace
and I can feel her tears fall onto my bare shoulder. I can’t let go of her;
just having her in my arms lets me know that she’s okay. Seeing her only
solidifies my thoughts. When we finally pull away I notice that Tyler and the
man who was standing with Maizey have now moved quite a distance away from us
and are chatting. I take her face in my hands.

“Oh my God. You look wonderful. Do
you have any idea how great it is to see you?” I pull her into another hug and
she comes willingly.

“I’ve been sober for three years now,”
she manages to force out through her sobs.

“Three years?” I question as I push
her away from me. It’s been three years. Why hasn’t she tried to contact me is
all I can think. In the last three years, I’ve called her cell and left countless
voicemails only to find out now that she was fine is a bit hard to take. She’s
obviously been in touch with Rachel, but not me. For some reason I’m hurt when
I know I have no right to be. I didn’t try to find her. I just always assumed
she followed the route our father took and to be honest I really wanted no part
of that again.

“Yes, three years,” she says softly. She
looks at me sadly. “Are you mad?” Her left hand moves to her face as she wipes
away the residual tears left on her cheeks. And there it is, a wedding ring and
matching band. My baby sister is married and I had no idea. My anger turns to
sadness. Sadness for everything in her life I missed, for what we’ve become.

“Why didn’t you return my calls? How
could you have let me think that you were...” I don’t finish the sentence. My
words are accusing and harsh and judging by the look her face, she’s appalled
at my audacity to question her choices.

“It wasn’t like that. Let me explain.
I really wanted you to...” she trails off as she begins to cry again. “You were
the closest thing I had to a mother and I’d made such a mess of my life with
Kevin and the drugs and all the other shit that went down, I couldn’t face you,
let alone hear your voice. It killed me. You’ve done so well on your own and I
was a total failure.” She begins to cry harder. It’s difficult to decipher her
words through her ragged breathing and cries. “I needed to make it right before
I could face you. I want you to be proud of me. Your opinion of me is the only
one that matters.”

I’m stunned into silence. I had no
idea that she felt that strongly about me or my opinion of her. It’s almost
embarrassing how highly she regards me, because let’s face it; I’m just as messed
up as she is. The same parents with the same terrible genes, and we all lived
through the same closed off miserable childhood. I want to hate my mother for
forcing me into the role of parent, for allowing us to grow up alone and most
of all, for making Maizey feel like she was unworthy of my love and
understanding.

 
“I can’t believe you think I wouldn’t
want to know if you were safe regardless of what you were doing. It never
mattered. I love you and that’s unconditional. I am proud of you and always
have been.”

“That really means a lot to me. I
love you more than you will ever know. You can’t even begin to imagine the
number of times I wanted to call you.”

We hug again and she briefly fills me
in on her life over the last three years. She tells me how when her inheritance
money ran out Kevin left her, but before that they moved to Charleston, South
Carolina and lived off of it for a couple of years. He left her when she was
just twenty, which still seems to bother her, but I think that’s because she
took him back. It ended for good near her twenty-third birthday. When the money
ran out for good he was gone, too. She was working at a bar in Charleston,
waitressing and bartending when she met her husband, coincidentally his name is
Kevin, too, yet nothing similar exists. He’s a lawyer, airline crash
litigation, for Delta Airlines and works of out of their Atlanta offices, which
is where Maizey now lives. Kevin happened to be in town dealing with some legal
issues that arose from a plane that skidded off the runway. He ate at the bar
every night and was completely smitten with Maizey.