Love Found in California (The Washington Triplets) (3 page)

“Okay, well, I guess I should go. I love you.” Ryan’s words fill the empty space and when he tells me he loves me, it sounds sincere.

“Okay, I have to finish the Bill and Jill project up. Bye,” I say quietly into the receiver.

The line goes dead, but I still hold it to my ear. Closing my eyes, I lean back into my chair, pulling my legs up to my chest. This isn’t an easy situation; it’s complicated on so many levels, and it’s not clear or concise. Walking away and hiding in the confusion is no longer an option. Those reds and blues cloud me, but I can fight them, keep them at bay if I have Ryan.

“Hey, snap out of it, he’ll be back in a couple days,” Carrie, Ryan’s younger sister, snaps at me. Practically jumping from my chair, I stand and hang up the phone all in one fluid motion.

“Very funny. I just was trying to get a handle on this next graphic,” I tell her.

“Oh, please. You were daydreaming about Ry. This honeymoon phase will end eventually, won’t it?” She teases me and then blows out a bubble of gum. Smacking her lips to get the stickiness off the outside of her mouth, she moves to my desk and sits atop the corner of it. Her eyes scan me and when I look into hers, my worries ease because they are the same sincere eyes Ryan wears.

“Stop, I’m fine. You want to do lunch later?”

“Yes. I have to fill you in on my date last night, too. Good, juicy, hot.” She tries her best to embarrass me, but I cut her off.

“STOP, Carrie. I’m your sister-in-law, married to your brother, remember?” She cracks up and starts to make her way out of my office. The three years between us seem more like ten sometimes. Carrie’s twenty-eight years old, and as far as I can tell, there’s no end in sight to her partying years. She tells me I’m crazy all the time for marrying her old brother at the young age of twenty-five.

“See you in a few.” Her cheerful voice drifts down the corridor.

Carrie brings out a side of me that my sisters have not seen in years, maybe ever. I can’t even remember anymore. She makes me feel, or think, that I can be young-hearted, free spirited, maybe even worriless at times. Deep down I wish I could be close like this again with my sisters. Carrie truly is my only friend here and really the only person who has been supportive of Ryan and me. She barely batted an eye when Ryan brought me to a family dinner to tell them he was marrying me. His parents have still not truly accepted it. Who am I to judge though, because no one in my family even knows.
God, what would perfect Marisa or wild Mya think?
They’d say I’m crazy and then I’d tell them that’s exactly why I did it.

Ryan and I sat outside at a small, black, metal table waiting for our fish tacos. I twisted in my seat, trying to find a good position without touching Ryan’s leg or arm. He was sitting in my personal space and it felt beyond professional. It was intimate even. Every time he talked to me he leaned in closer; I didn’t back up, but became paralyzed studying the movement of his lips, the shape of his cheeks, his tone, even watching his tongue wet his lips stopped my breathing.

Charming and charismatic, he enchanted me, reminding me that I had very little to offer someone else. But right there, time stood still for me, as he insisted I try their mango margarita, he made me want to find a way to offer more to someone else. His eyes shined, literally sparkled as we talked about an array of topics. I’d never felt so captivated or enchanted by a person before. Then again, I’m not sure I’d ever allowed myself to engage in that possibility, but here thousand of miles from home and my secrets, it was a possibility.

I sipped my mango margarita through the thin white straw and then twirled it around in my mouth. Feeling more relaxed I looked up at him, took in his delight and asked, “So did you always think you’d be a business owner, especially in animation?”

“Nah, never, never in a million years.” He gave a hearty laugh and leaned in closer again, too close; I could feel his breath hit my face. “I thought I’d be a famous surfer of course.” This time I leaned in with him and laughed.

The more I drank the sweet and sour concoction the more I loosened up, becoming more open, more someone else or more me … I couldn’t be sure, everything in me was blending, fusing my colors, causing me confusion.

“Okay, when I was twenty, I was surfing with my friends and all of a sudden, Randy, I’m sure you’ll meet him soon here, he’s always stopping by.” He paused and took a healthy sip of his drink, eyes dancing to get back into his story. This time when he came back toward, me his hand rested on my thigh and I immediately lost my hearing. My heartbeat blocked out all other sound, I swear I think I even heard my blood pumping, more like rushing like a fast downward river.

His lips had been moving, sound came from them, but I lost track of what the story was until I heard, “And then Randy came racing up for air, screaming, flailing. He started swimming for his life to the shore and I followed him as quick as I could. As I was, there was a stream of blood lining the water behind Randy though. When we hit the shore Randy was missing a small chunk of his calf.”

“What, really? A shark?” I questioned, showing him just as much enthusiasm. Except I had to check myself, I truly was enthused.

“Yeah, it was a small one, but still it freaked us all out. He’s fine and all, but I’m sure if given the chance he’ll embellish the story for you.” The waitress set down the basket of chips and before she could turn away, he ordered us another round of the margaritas. “Anyway, my point is that I left the dream of being a professional surfer there that day at the beach.” His long fingers began to gently stroke my thigh, so slow I could barely notice, but of course I had. “Funny, that day was a bit of an eye-opener. Then I got my ducks in a row and well, here I am now... Thirty-six, almost thirty-seven, doing what I love second best. Can’t complain.” He ends his story by sitting back, taking his hand with him, and throwing a chip in his mouth.

“Wow, well lucky for me you didn’t become a surfer.” After the words slip past my lips, I realize how it sounds. His eyes light up again, his smile is shy and I turn my gaze downward to my lap. “Um, you know what I mean, the job and all.”

After a moment passes, he asks, “Okay your turn, tell me something more about you. How did you like growing up in Chicago?”

“Well, I didn’t have an ocean, but I had Lake Michigan, which most people don’t realize how big it is until they see it. In my opinion, that lake makes the city. My mom would always take my sisters and me for the day, but when we were fifteen we begged and begged some more to go by ourselves. It was the best day. Well, until we came home late, which I completely blame on Mya. She let some boys persuade us to head over to Ed Debevics. When we walked in past curfew, we already knew we were grounded. I don’t think we were allowed to go to the beach alone again until we were seniors …” He laughed and asked more about ‘those boys’. While he listened intently, his eyes were trained on me, and at times I could feel myself wanting to hide myself from him. Something strange and out of the ordinary occurred at that small table though. I didn’t hide; I sat in the light, feeling the warmth, letting him take me in, instead of drifting off into solitude.

RING, RING, RING.
GASPING FOR
a breath, I fly upward in bed searching the nightstand for my phone. Unable to put into focus the screen, I answer knowing only one person would call me this early.

“Hi.” My morning voice comes off raspy and dry as I allow myself to sink back into my array of pillows.

“Morning, love. How’d you sleep?” Sleeping became foreign to me over the later years, but since Ryan, I could sleep peaceful most nights, not all, but most. That was more than I had hoped for. Although, when Ryan travelled, my nights were often restless and disturbed with anxiety. Last night was no exception.

“Mmm, not so good. I miss you,” I confess too eagerly.

“Well, I’m trying my best to wrap up this meeting today. Did you hear any more from your dad … or your sisters?”

I stretch and yawn into the phone, trying to push the sleepy feeling away. “No, nothing else yet.”

“You wanna talk about it?” he quickly replies.

Folding both of my lips into my teeth, I hesitate while holding my breath. All this time Ryan has allowed me to keep my secrets hidden, until now. Even for our wedding, he never pressured me to tell my family because we just did it on our own. We didn’t tell anyone; it was our secret together. I’ve side-stepped telling my family for the last several months with excuses that with my mom gone things are too hard on my dad and that my sisters and I are all living so far apart.

“Okay, well, when I get home we can talk.” He pauses for a second and then drops his voice an octave, as he says, “Amongst other things.” His attempt at lighting the mood and pressure on me fails. All I can think of is the talk he wants to have with me.

Before I respond I realize that is my issue: I don’t know how to talk, not about the things that could make or break our marriage. Talking with Ryan about all other things has been more than easy for me. He’s provided me with more comfort and acceptance than I ever thought anyone could. The way he’s brought out the changes in me, all while making it feel natural and still like me baffles me, but then there’s a lot he doesn’t know about me. The only person I ever could talk to about these dark secrets is my mom and she’s gone. Not even my sisters know the horrid details.

“Mik?” Ryan interrupts my thinking.

“Sorry, just waking up.”

“Don’t over think any of this, okay?” I imagine him running a hand through his hair and then resting it there as he speaks.

“Yeah, okay. Keep me posted if you can come back early.” The call ends and a little flutter of fear hits me in the back of my chest.

Lingering just a while more in our bed, I reach over to curl myself around Ryan’s pillow and let his smell infiltrate me. I never thought I could be so dependent on someone other than my family. Ryan’s like this calm after a storm to me and without him I feel unstable … a little more broken.

After I get ready for the day, I grab my purse and head out on to the patio to clean it out. I can faintly hear the crash of the waves up on the beach as I sift through all my receipts, gum wrappers and dry cleaning tickets, piling them up to bring back into the garbage. In one of my side pockets I find a small business card with a reminder for my therapy appointment on it. I always schedule my appointments when I know Ryan will be out of town, which I hate doing because it proves each time just what I’m hiding from him, but … this time I feel more determined. Being able to confess my past to Ryan is my purpose now. Before I add it to the pile for the garbage, I rub it between my fingers, then flick it over to the pile.

***

Just as lunchtime rolls around I text Ryan about my current project and tell him I have errands after work. Usually I get a quick reply, but nothing comes through. At that moment, Carrie bursts through my door, looking just as high on energy as the day before.

“Okay, we have to do lunch again! He called me last night!” she squeals with excitement.

“Really? Wait, which one?”

“Oh stop! I don’t date that many guys. Well, maybe, but it’s the one I told you about yesterday at lunch.”

“Justin?” I ask with more interest.

She pulls her long blonde hair back in a ponytail and strides over to sit at the edge of my desk. “That’s it, you’ve got it! Good memory.” Shaking my head at her in mock, I lean back in my chair to listen to what I’m sure will be too long of a story. “So lunch?”

“I can’t, I have to get out of here a little early tonight,” I tell her with the hopes that she won’t ask any further questions.

“Mikaela, for Christ’s sake, you are the boss’s wife. Take a lunch and leave when you want.” I’m already shaking my head again and rolling my eyes for emphasis.

“No. You know I don’t want to take advantage of the situation.” She makes a ‘tsk’ sound in response, but I continue. “Plus, I’ve heard some of the gossip around here before and they are ruthless. No thank you.” I have to laugh a little because Carrie has been known to take advantage of her last name from time to time. Ryan probably gives her a pass too easily, but she does work hard in between.

“Alright, well, I need advice so now will have to do …” She continues on rattling off about their phone call last night. I listen as best I can, but she couldn’t be asking a worse person for dating advice. My dating life before Ryan was pretty non-existent. I had tried my hand at it a couple of times, but I failed miserably. The whole time she’s talking, I’m selfishly thinking of Ryan. Worrisome coats me and when she asks, “So what do you think I should do now?” … I blink with a blank stare.

“Sorry, Carrie, honestly, I’m horrible at dating. Never was good at it and, and … now I’m with Ryan. I have no clue how to date.” Again she rattles on and I hear another guys name in the mix beside Justin. Dating, God, I missed that phase, except with Ryan, but even that ended quickly.

“Drinks?” Ryan stood just outside my office door. I looked at my screen to see it was almost seven. “Come on, you work too hard,” he joked.