A Life More Complete (24 page)

“I think he borderline stalked me,
but it was so endearing I couldn’t say no,” she says, beaming. “We talked every
night and after six months I moved in with him. A year and half later we were
married. It was at the courthouse. No one was there, not even Rachel, so don’t
go getting all jealous on me.” She rolls her eyes as she links arms with me. “We’d
better get back to our dates before they leave us. They must be bored out of
their minds.”

“Oh, I sincerely doubt that. Both
lawyers. I’m sure they have a ton to talk about.”

“Your date’s a lawyer, too?” she
asks, obviously unaware of who he is. Neither of us got a good look. We were
both so wrapped up in our own thoughts. “Where’d you meet him?”

I laugh slightly and reply, “Naperville
North High School.”

“What?” She’s thoroughly confused
now.

“It’s Tyler. He’s the lawyer for one
of my clients. We got back together recently and things are really good.” I show
her my ring and I’m pretty sure she nearly trips over her feet.

“Holy shit! You’re marrying Tyler?” I
nod my head as she stops walking. “Are you kidding me? This is crazy! And that
is some ring! But what else would you expect from Tyler?”

She knows him well. He spent more
time with my sisters and me than anyone else. Sitting next to us at the movies,
getting us beers at parties, driving us home from school when my car wouldn’t
start. He was as present in Maizey and Rachel’s life as I was. He was even around
more than our mother. Maizey was in the back seat when Tyler rolled his Jeep
Wrangler after it slid on some black ice on Naperville-Plainfield Road on the
way home from an away basketball game at Bolingbrook High School.

“I know. It’s all a little crazy, but
the good kind,” I say. We start walking again and out of nowhere Rachel runs up
screaming and nearly plows us over. She’s all tulle and lace, her blonde hair
loose and flowing behind her. She hugs us both and screams a little too loudly
for our close proximity.

“Oh my God! You brought Tyler as your
date? What the hell are you thinking? I knew something was up when you didn’t
answer my text.”

“We can talk about it later.” I say
dismissing what I know to be a reprimand at the hands of Rachel. “This is your
wedding and you look amazing. I’m just happy I’m here with both of you. Let’s
make sure that from this day on, no more secrets, no more missed phone calls. Let’s
make this right in spite of everything, in spite of our mom.”

“Definitely,” Maizey says smiling. “Not
just in spite of her, but because of her. Let’s honor the fact that we all
escaped her virtually unscathed.”

“We’ll toast to it,” Rachel says. “Irish
whiskey, anyone?”

“Only if it’s The Wild Geese. It’ll
be like a tribute to our childhood,” I say and Rachel agrees but Maizey declines
out of respect for her sobriety.

Back when the three of us lived with
our mother we’d steal bottles of The Wild Geese out of her hiding place behind
the toilet tank and drink shot after shot on the roof outside my bedroom
window. Probably not our smartest move considering we could have easily fallen
off given our drunkenness, but we managed. We’d fill the bottle with apple
juice and stash it back where we found it.

“Of course. I had the bar stock it
special for tonight,” Rachel says. “That shit’s expensive. No wonder she was mad
that we filled it with apple juice after we drank it dry.” All three of us
laugh, which is pretty much how we spent our high school days, laughing and
drinking. It was the one time when I wasn’t in charge and it felt good to go
back to that time. Tonight’s going to be about my sisters and me. “We need to
find our dates,” Maizey says.

“Don’t worry. They’re by the bar with
Paul,” replies Rachel.

We make our way to the tent and then
to the bar. I spot Tyler and he smiles at me a bit too smugly. And then I hear
him say, “Have you guys ever seen the three of them together?” I know exactly
what he’s talking about and by the looks on Paul and Kevin’s faces they see it,
too. Rachel and I are polar opposites. Her with her blonde hair and blue eyes, she
looks like she should be playing beach volleyball and sunning herself on lounge
chair. She tans instantly and when she does her eyes appear bluer and her hair
blonder. We’re the same height, but that’s where it stops. While my hair turns
copper in the sun and my skin stays somewhere between pale and a slight tan no
matter how much bake myself. My green eyes are as bright as hers are blue. My
nose, no matter how much sun I didn’t get would still be smattered with
freckles and Rachel’s nose, perfectly flawless. As much as we differed in
looks, our features are dead on the same. That’s what creates the strange looks
we get. Our eyes are the same shape, our noses, perfect ski slopes, profiles
matching exactly, and the shape of our face long and narrow with a bottom lip
that looks too full sometimes. The strangest part of all is Maizey. She is a
combination of the two of us. Dark hair, but blue eyes, tan skin but freckles;
she is a rare mixture of the two of us and it’s fitting since she is the last.

Tyler winks at me and says, “Watch
out for the little one, she’s trouble.” He walks over and pulls Maizey into his
embrace. He whispers something into her ear and she laughs her endearing
child-like laugh that hasn’t changed since we were kids.

“I was only trouble because I was
always trying to keep up with you guys. Maybe if you hadn’t tried to ditch me
all the time I would’ve behaved myself.” She shoves Tyler slightly as she moves
away from him.

“Maybe we were trying to tell you
something,” he jokes shoving her back. Tyler and Maizey always had a great
relationship. She put him on a pedestal and no matter what happened she would
defend him to the end. He was her first real crush and he was also one of the
only men in her life that she trusted. He never turned his back on her the
entire time we were in high school. He treated me like shit, but never her. Their
friendship was endearing and cute in the way that all high school bonds are. They
seem to have picked up right where they left off and the look on her husband’s
face screams annoyance. At one point during the night he pulls her aside and
from the looks of it chastises her for her behavior. Rachel, Tyler and I drink
shot after shot dedicating them to Rachel’s marriage and sisters, eventually
changing to random things like, cars that smell like wet dog and The Taste of
Chicago. Tyler requests “Jessie’s Girl” and we pretty much dance till we pass
out, not sure if it’s from exhaustion or the sheer amount of alcohol that is
filling our bodies.

Rachel hired several buses to shuttle
people from the reception back to their hotels, which turns out to be for the
best considering most of the guests are drunk and there’s no possibility of
getting back without driving. We board the bus and I kiss Rachel and Maizey
good-bye. I tell them we’ll meet for breakfast, for some reason, I guess it’s
unclear to us exactly how drunk we are. It will become painfully clear early
the next morning.

I wake the next morning with the
sudden urge to vomit. Scrambling through twisted sheets attempting to release
myself from their stifling grip as I tumble toward the bathroom. Wearing only a
t-shirt that I can’t recall changing into, I lunge over the toilet and purge
what feels like everything from my stomach. My eyes watering, my throat burning
with acidic stomach bile and rotten alcohol as my body continues to heave with
such force that my stomach muscles ache.

Tyler yells from the bed, “Shit,
could you close the door? My hangover is unreal and the sound of you vomiting
is making it worse.”

“Thanks, Ty. Your kindness and
sympathy knows no bounds,” I mutter as I crawl over to the door and push the
bottom corner until the door slams closed. Pressing my cheek to the cool tile
floor, I close my eyes and try not to focus on the fact that I am lying on the
floor of a hotel bathroom that after watching too many Datelines, I know full
well is swimming with infestation and germs. Just that thought in my brain for
a second makes my stomach lurch and I hug the toilet once again. I pull a towel
from the rack and rest my head on it telling myself to breathe in through my
nose and out through my mouth. I repeat this in my head over and over as my
eyes grow heavy.

Shuffling out of the bathroom a few
hours later I join a snoring and completely dead to the world Tyler in bed. I
grab my phone off the nightstand and text my sisters. The light from the screen
fills my head with blinding pain that makes my eyes water and forces my gag
reflex to the forefront once again.
Please
make it stop. I swear I will never drink again.
Okay, I am lying, but I’ll
at least hold off for a few weeks. I don’t know whom I’m begging, but whoever
it is, I didn’t care; I just need it to stop. I text my sisters to let them know
I’m not going to make it to breakfast due to my epic hangover. That’s putting
in mildly. The last time I remember being this drunk had to be at least before
1999, but in my state I’m unable to actually recall anything being worse than
this. When I don’t hear from either of them after a few minutes my head hits
the pillow and I’m out.

Several hours later I wake with a
headache and the taste of vomit still lingering in my mouth. Tyler stirs next
to me and judging by the look on his face he is feeling strikingly similar to
me.

“I’m so glad we are staying an extra
night,” I say. “I don’t think I could even think about getting in the car right
now.”

“Seriously. I’m glad we took your
car. You and all that barf would completely ruin the interior in my car. Plus
you really smell disgusting.”

His response sends a shock of
annoyance through my aching body. I roll the other direction, facing away from
him, right now I can’t look at him and I know if I do my response will be less
than savory.

“Thanks. I wouldn’t barf in your car,”
I mumble.

“Oh, stop acting insulted. I was
joking and anyway, we’re staying, so no one has to worry about barfing in the
car.”

I take Tyler’s words to heart and
climb out of bed and into the shower. Taking my toothbrush with me I begin to
scrub the inside of my mouth as if it were a public toilet and as of right now
I am pretty sure it harbors as much filth and germs as one.

My mind flutters to Tyler. It’s hard
not to think about him. I feel myself becoming obsessed with him and wanting to
please him, something I’ve never had any desire to do, but here I am thinking
about how I can make him love me more. I got in the shower because he said I
smelled. Normally I would have shrugged my shoulders and more than likely told
the offender to leave if I wasn’t up to their standard of cleanliness, yet with
Tyler I aim to please. I don’t like the feeling of forced compliance, however I’m
standing in the shower giving myself a prison style scrub down. This should all
be a sign that embarking on a life long commitment might not be the right
choice, but I can’t help but think that maybe it’s my only choice. I really
need to stop over analyzing everything.

I leave Tyler sleeping in bed to meet
my sisters for lunch at a nearby restaurant. I can feel myself slipping away. My
independence fading as I blend into the person that was created by Tyler so
long ago. It’s hard to figure out why I lose myself in his presence or why I so
easily slip into the role of following along.

Tyler told me he wants it to be different.
He wants it to work and so do I, more than I want to admit. I still can’t
figure out what makes him feel he has some sort of power over my behavior, my
life or my personality for that matter.

I shake my head as I pull into the
parking lot. My OCD is at an extreme since getting back together with Tyler. My
tapping and my obsessive dwelling are spiraling out of control. This was
something that had nearly disappeared and the coincidence of it returning with
Tyler’s arrival isn’t entirely lost on me.

Rachel is waiting at a table looking
at her phone when I walk up. She stands and hugs me. I kiss her cheek and feel
a calm come over me. We’re normal; hopefully it remains this way.

“Tyler, huh?” she says without making
eye contact.

“Yeah. He’s Trini’s lawyer.”

“Be careful.” Her tone clipped and
slightly judgmental.

Before I can answer the waitress
walks up and asks if we’d like anything to drink. Rachel orders a Diet Coke and
I order water. She tells us she’ll be back with the drinks and she’ll take our
order then. Rachel sends a text to Maizey asking what is taking her so long as
we begin our conversation again.

“You should really drink water if you’re
as hungover as I am because caffeine will make it worse. It depletes your body,”
I say as Rachel looks up from the menu.

“You’re avoiding talking about him.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” she sighs. “I want you
to take a good hard look at what you are about to do. He ruined you once and he
can do it again. I can’t watch him bring you down again. He’s an asshole and
you know it. You’re better than this.”

When I think back to the wedding, I
recall Rachel being rather cold to Tyler. She greeted him appropriately, but
not more than that. She has always felt indifferent toward him and that
indifference grew while she lived with us. I always took it as nothing more
than a personality conflict. Rachel is strong-willed and out spoken which can
create trouble, but she’s never placed herself in a position to question my
choices.