A Life More Complete(98)
Me: Thanks. It’s been strange. Shopping with my sisters right now.
Within seconds he responds,
Ben: Sorry about the thing with Melinda. I don’t know what I was thinking. I never meant to hurt you.
Me: No reason to apologize. You’re free to date whomever you want. I just wish she’d said something. A bit of a shocker.
Ben: I wasn’t thinking. It should have never happened.
Me: No biggie.
Trying to play aloof in text is much easier than in person. I can’t tell him that him dating Melinda devastated me.
Ben: I hope you’re doing ok. I imagine this is hard on you.
Me: No. I’m over the you and Mel thing.
Ben: No, your dad.
I shake my head. Sometimes I’m so dumb.
Me: Oh, yeah. It’s tough. But I’ll be ok. Thanks for asking.
Ben: No problem. Take care.
The thought crosses my mind to tell Ben that I’m alone, but that just seems like I’m leading him to say something bad about Tyler. I already know he’s a better person than Tyler. At this point, anyone is a better person than Tyler. I let it go and when I look up from my phone my sisters are staring at me.
“Was that him?” Rachel asks almost shocked.
“Are you kidding me? No.” I reply indignantly. I begin to walk toward the car with Rachel and Maziey whispering behind me. I speed up my pace as if I can get away from them. I’m about to be trapped in the car with them so I might as well face it. I turn around just before reaching the car.
“Go ahead, Rachel. Say it. I know you want to. Tell me what a dick Tyler is and that I should leave him. Badger the shit out me. Just get it over with.”
“Fine!” she screams. Shouting in a mall parking lot with my sister has a very Jerry Springer feel to it. “You’re so damn busy worrying about his feelings. How he feels, protecting him, defending him. When’s he going to reciprocate? When will he save you? The kicker is, he won’t! You’re the only one who can’t see it. He’s got you all wound up waiting for him. This is exactly what he wants. It’s a game to him. You’ll never win!”
Everything she says is true and I wish I could admit it and leave him. How did I end up in this situation? Desperation, that’s the only word to describe how I got where I am right now. Frantically I scramble into the car to avoid anymore looks from the quiet, shopping patrons that paused to check out the show taking place in the parking lot. I want to fight back, but I don’t have it in me anymore.
“Please stop reminding me.” My voice is soft and sad. “I’ll figure this out. I just need time. I understand what this looks like to you. I know I look desperate. I look like a loser. I get it. This isn’t me.”
After several long minutes of excruciating silence my voice cracks through making it impossible for us to ignore each other any longer. We’ll sweep it under the rug. It’s what we do best and we learned from the best, our mother. Whenever there was any kind of turmoil, whether it was an argument between my mother and Tom or between my sisters and me, we always fled from it mid-fight, leaving it to fester only to emerge eventually as if nothing happened. There was never any resolve. It would stay buried until the next blow up. Today is nothing different.
“You guys want to eat at Maggiano’s?” I ask knowing that the only thing that will make our day better is food.
“Abso-freakin-lutley,” Rachel hoots from the backseat, reaching around with her arm encircling me with a headlock. She places a kiss on my temple and releases me. The irony is lost on her. My life with Rachel mimics my life with Tyler. I know she’d beg to differ on the subject so I don’t bring it up.
Rachel and I have always been argumentative. It’s the nature of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean that sometimes it doesn’t hurt.
---Chapter 31---
The next day, we all meet at the funeral home in Oak Park for what will be forever known as the longest day of our lives. My sisters, their husbands and I are given an hour to say our good-byes to a man that none of us really knew, but stood by because in the end we’re all that’s left. A waxy, heavily made-up figure lying horizontal in a wooden box with his hands folded perfectly over his waist. I can’t even tell if he resembles himself, as I don’t know him. Wearing a suit that was pulled from his closet in an attempt to appear presentable, although I remember little about him, I know that in life he was rarely presentable. Drunk and belligerent, coupled with the cocaine withdrawal tended to lead him down a path of hiding and seeking more. A continuous cycle. And when we were finally presented with the preliminary autopsy results none of it’s shocking. My father died of cirrhosis of the liver, the same disease that claimed the life of his own father many years before. When the question was posed regarding a more thorough autopsy the response was unanimous. No need.