A Life More Complete

---Chapter 34---

Ben walks out leaving me breathless. I check my phone out of guilt. But like always there’s nothing. The feeling builds and the anxiety looms, like an ominous cloud. My neurosis, something I’ve never been able to get a firm handle on takes over. Even in his absence Tyler still controls me, my thoughts, my feelings, they all belong to him. I can’t shake the feeling that I just cheated on him. But did I? I didn’t sleep with Ben. Nothing but a simple kiss was exchanged and words that held a strong meaning, but no actual sexual exchange took place. Yet, as much as I try to rationalize my thoughts I know what I did is far worse than the actual act of cheating. I have a connection with Ben. It’s the kind that will remain long after everything is said and done, it will hold true, it’s a love that lasts, but will somehow remain unrequited. It’s the worst kind.

Thursday morning, I find myself in the passenger seat of my rental with a quiet but friendly Ben sitting next me. In the lengthy morning commute to O’Hare neither one of us mentions our momentary lapse in judgment. We shuffle through security, board the plane and touch down at LAX in what seems like record time. As the wheels bounce along the runway, I want to scream. I want to yell for the pilot to stop the plane, to give me just ten more minutes, that’s all I need. I just want ten more minutes with Ben. Just being next to him is calming and comforting, but it needs to end. This plane is all that separates me from the rest of my life. When the door to the plane opens to the waiting jet bridge, people begin to scatter. Grabbing bags from the overhead bin, anxious to exit the airless plane. At least that’s the way it feels. I can’t breath correctly; my chest is tightening with each tiny breath I take, yet no matter what, I can’t seem to suck in a full breath. Ben rises and pulls my bag from the overhead bin, yet I can’t move. I take the suitcase from his hands, pulling up on the handle; I drag it behind like I’ve done so many times before. We part as soon as we exit the jet bridge both of us veering in opposite directions. Ben leaves me with a slight nod and I smile weakly.

It’s over. I push my sunglasses down and cry. My car ride is slow and methodical. I want it to last forever. I don’t want to go home. What is left? Nothing. I’m returning home to an empty house and even if Tyler is home it’s metaphorically empty. All I have is a misconceived baby coupled with a marriage that is built off of a never-ending fight and past love. It’s far from perfect, but it’s all I have left.

Tyler is at work when I finally arrive home. It’s only noon and I know he will be there for at least another ten hours. It’s been a week since he hung up on me in my hotel room. He hasn’t called and I, too held firm only sending a text to notify him of my impending flight home. It is beginning to feel childish, even more so now that I’m home. I wonder how long we can go without speaking especially now that I’m here. I change into my running clothes knowing that a run will clear my head and eviscerate my clouded thoughts.

Two hours later I stand panting in the driveway in front of Tyler’s car. Although exhausted, I sprint up the stairs two at a time and burst though the door.

“Ty!” I yell.

He appears in the doorway of the bedroom, his blonde curls just skimming his ears as he pulls his hand through his hair. I dissolve into his arms.

“I wanted to be here when you got home. I was running late.” His arms tighten around me and he kisses the top of my head. I can feel him shake his head as he pulls away. “Will you just take the f*cking car? Please,” he says as he pulls me into the bedroom.

“Yes,” I whisper without preamble.

This is the crux of our entire relationship. It’s built on sex and gifts as a way to resolve a disagreement, but it all eventually leads to nothing being resolved. This is no different. It’s Tyler’s peace offering and I take it because I always do.

It only takes a few weeks and we are back where we started. If we aren’t fighting it’s because one of us is at work or out of town or too busy. Rarely are we together long enough to argue. I throw myself into the one thing that consumes more of my time than arguing with Tyler. Work. The price of ambition is late hours; countless days spent making phone calls, visiting clients, traveling and everything that goes along with being successful. My job is easy to get lost in and in its own way it is the love of my life. It needs me like nothing else. Being needed feels good even when it is for reasons that are completely selfish. My clients don’t care about my feelings or my personal life. They are not my friends or my family, but they need me like an alcoholic needs booze. And I do it because it helps me forget the mess that has become my life.