Chipped Love

Christina sat in a shabby, threadbare red booth in the far back corner
of Pepe’s Mexican restaurant, nervously stuffing another yellow corn tortilla
chip into her mouth. She was always the first one to show up. Why was that?
she wondered. She was always the one arriving first, securing the table,
making certain the table wasn’t by the window because he didn’t like
window tables. It had to be a secluded table in the back, even though they
always met at least three cities away from where he lived.
She eyed the door anxiously, fidgeting in her seat, practicing her smile
every time the chime on the door rang. She glanced at her watch: 4:56pm.
He said 4:30ish for margaritas and a taquito appetizer, so he technically
wasn’t late— although she had gotten there early at 4:15.
She dipped another chip into the salsa, scooping it high with tomatoes
and cilantro. She noticed the bowl was practically empty– again. Had she
really gone through two baskets by herself? She pushed the bowl away. She
was going to gain ten pounds just waiting for him to walk through the door.
These secret rendezvous were really taking a toll on her waistline and
sabotaging her Weight Watcher’s plan to lose 20 pounds in four months. She knew she had already exceeded her point system for that day, damn it. The
last time they met eight days ago at the Applebee’s Happy Hour, she had
devoured six extra crispy chicken wings before he even sat down at the
table. After they had left, an avocado egg roll and another five extra crispy
chicken wings later, she felt too bloated to get naked at the Best Western
across the street.
“More chips?”
Christina looked up at the busboy.
“No, no thank you,” she said. “But I will have another Coke. Diet
Coke, please.”
The busboy nodded, removing the empty basket from the table. With
the chips gone, she focused her nervous energy on her nails, picking at the
fading red polish. She glanced at her watch again: 5:01pm. He never used to
be late– not this late– at least not in the beginning.
The very first time she saw him, Robert, every hair on her body stood
on end at the mere sight of his delectable scrumptiousness. The way he
arrogantly sauntered into the main lobby in his white starched shirt, sport
coat casually draped over his left shoulder, still wearing his mirror-like Ray
Bans looking like a sexy pilot, asking her which floor was accounting on. He
was a CPA consultant to the firm and, in Christina’s mathematical mind,
added up to the perfect quotient of everything delicious. Christina was the head, yes, head, secretary at Vail and Associates and
she ran the main entrance desk like a well oiled, turbo running machine.
After working there for fifteen years, she prided herself on being the
quickest typist they ever had while juggling four ringing lines and
simultaneously munching on a Kit Kat. Aside from her job, the only other
thing she prided herself on was her two children— a daughter on scholarship
at college and a son just about to graduate high school. She felt she had
failed at everything else in her life, especially in love, especially with men.
But her sixteen year streak of loneliness ended the day Robert invited her out
for an innocent ice cream cone at the Dairy Queen down the street from the
office. Three weeks later, their ice cream dates matured into room service at
the Motel Six after hours of radiant, sweat dripping, hair pulling S-E-X.
As if on cue, the bells on the door chimed again, breaking Christina
out of her reverie. And there he was. The bells continued ringing as if in
slow motion as Christina devoured him with her eyes. Why did he always
have to look so important, so put together, so goddamn perfect? Wearing a
crisp blue button down dress shirt, black slacks with matching Perry Ellis
belt, polished black shoes, hair perfectly coiffed and slicked back with just
the right amount of gel. Christina immediately wished she had dressed up
more, exchanged her Wal-Mart “mom” jeans for a fitted black skirt, her
floral button down for something soft and silky, her beat up Sketchers for a one inch black heel. At least she had taken some time to put on pink lipstick,
but then again, those damn tortilla chips probably wiped it all off.
Christina stood up, big smile plastered across her lips. When she saw
him, her whole body felt it. She sometimes thought she would burst out of
her clothes at the sight of him, burst out of her skin at the mere sound of his
voice. She waved, arm extended high above her head, as if he were miles
away in a crowd trying to attract his attention, instead of a small Mexican
joint with barely any other patrons.
Was she too obvious?
Too over excited?
Too anxious?
RELAX, she scolded herself, DON’T GIVE EVERYTHING AWAY.
He smiled as he approached her. She held out her arms to him, waiting to be
swallowed in his embrace, waiting to be inundated with his affection, but
instead was greeted with a half hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Christina, you look great. That blouse really brings out your eyes,”
he said, sliding into the booth opposite her.
She loved that he called her Christina. Most people called her Chrissy
for short but when he addressed her by her full name, Christina, it made her
feel womanly, sexy, desirable.
“Thank you, Robert,” she said, feeling the color rise in her cheeks. Receiving compliments from a man, from him, was still a new concept to her
and she treasured each one, mentally storing them away so that she could
silently repeat them to herself later.
Robert smiled and motioned to the waiter. “Could we get some chips
over here?”
He redirected his gaze back to Christina. “I won’t be able to stay very long
because Janet needs me to pick up some of her migraine pills. We can still
squeeze in a margarita, but, next time, we should probably just meet at the
motel.”
Christina forced a smile. “Oh, well, I was looking forward to those
taquitos…and thought maybe we could have a few drinks together. It’s been
over a week since I’ve seen you–”
“I know,” he interrupted, “But Janet called right before I left the office
and I couldn’t very well say no. She always wants me to drop everything for
her, as if I‘m not busy enough. But that’s one of the things I appreciate about
you. The way you understand me.” He flashed that smile.
Christina immediately squelched the jealousy that was rising in her
chest, becoming more frequent. “Oh, it’s fine, it’s just fine. Of course, I
understand. You are always the man in demand. I don’t know how you do it.
But we’ll just enjoy the time we have.” She reached across the table to take
his hands in hers. “I’ve missed you.” Christina waited for him to return the sentiment but he just smiled,
then pulled his hands away as the waiter returned with a heaping basket of
chips, breaking the moment.
“Ready to order?” he asked, whipping out his pad of paper.
“Just two Cadillac Margaritas,” Robert piped up, “with salt on the
rims.”
As the waiter disappeared, Christina realized that she wasn’t getting
her taquito appetizer after all. And she didn’t like Cadillac margaritas. After
six months, wouldn’t he know that her signature margarita was peach?
“So, I have a convention in Vegas I have to attend in three weeks,”
Robert began. “I’m staying at Mandalay Bay with some colleagues but I
could book you a room across the street at the Luxor. Sound fun?”
He smiled and winked, then crunched into a chip.
“Oh, the Luxor… well, you know, I was hoping maybe we could do
something a little more romantic. Maybe something like a weekend in Santa
Barbara?” Christina suggested, as casually as she could muster.
He said nothing, didn’t even look at her, as he licked the salt from his
fingers.
“And my daughter lives in Santa Barbara, you know,” Christina
continued, picking again at her nail polish. “You could finally meet her. I’ve
told her all about you and she’s okay with it, you know, our arrangement.” Robert stopped mid-chip, looked at her. “You told your daughter? I
thought we were going to keep this between us. Keep things casual.”
“We are,” Christina interjected quickly. “We are so keeping things
casual, but of course I would have to tell my daughter. I said to her, I’m
probably not setting a good example for you by doing this…and you know
what she said? She said, Mom, you’ve set an example for me your whole
life. Now it’s your turn to be happy. Isn’t that something? Isn‘t that
something that my daughter said that?”
The waiter returned with their margaritas and set them down. Robert
took his drink and licked part of the rim before taking a long swig, not
bothering to use the straw.
“And Rudy, well, he loves to fish,” Christina continued. “I told him
you have a little boat and he mentioned that maybe you could go out
sometime on a weekend or something. And he’s great, Rudy is, you‘ll really
like him. He doesn’t judge our situation or anything like that, so you don’t
have to worry–”
“Wait a minute. You told both your kids…?” Robert stared at her.
“Well…” Christina hesitated. This was not the reaction she was
hoping for. “It has been six months. That’s… half a year already. I figured it
was time for them to know. Don’t you… want to meet my kids?”
Her question hung helplessly in the air along with the donkey piñatas dangling from the ceiling. Oh, shit. Had she gone too far? Was she pushing
him too hard? Wasn’t he going to say something… anything?
Finally, he said, “You know, Christina, I think you’re a real special
lady and all, but I can’t make you any promises here. I thought we agreed to
keep it simple.”
Maybe it was better if he said nothing. At least that way, she didn’t
have to hear out loud the things she didn’t want to hear at all. Anxiety
creeped in at every pore. Christina instinctively stuffed a chip in her mouth,
salsa dripping down her chin. Was he growing tired of her? Was he losing
interest? Was he going to break up with her already? It had only been six
months— but six great, wonderful, satisfying, hair pulling, goddamn blissful
months.
“Why don’t you come to Vegas and we’ll take things from there? No
strings attached. Just keeping it simple.” Robert smiled that smile again.
SIMPLE. Vegas. Her own room at the Luxor, being kept hidden away
like a concubine for midnight visits at the glowing, smoke ridden, dirty
carpeted pyramid. SIMPLE. No strings attached. He wore a gold band on his
left hand attaching himself legally to someone else but meeting her kids
would mean attaching himself too much to her. SIMPLE. Not being able to
sit at a goddamn window table at a restaurant where the fabric of the booth
wasn’t pulling apart and tearing at the seams. Christina felt her seams starting to fray, spread, surrender, along with the seams of her relaxed fit
jeans from eating away her nerves at all these covert encounters. SIMPLE.
There was nothing “simple” about any of it. There was nothing simple
about secrets. There was nothing simple about giving your body away to
someone who didn’t care to earn your love… and never would.
There was nothing simple about being heartbroken.
The door chimed again as someone was leaving, simultaneously
sounding off warning bells in Christina’s mind. It was as if a bubble
instantly formed above her head with the ever cliché light bulb, like the ones
in the old time comic books, and it said “You are worth MORE.” It was the
same mantra that her Weight Watcher’s counselor had been cheerleading in
her ear for months, the same mantra that repeatedly showed up in the
numerous self-help books that littered her night table.
And in that moment, it made sense.
It resonated.
It touched a place deep inside her that she knew was truthful.
Even if that truth and clarity was fleeting and she could only grasp it
in moments, she made a resolute decision right then and there to hold onto it
to get her through the next few minutes of what she was about to do.
“Actually,” Christina said, a new strength surging through her, “I feel
like you’re making things a little too complicated for me. I think it’s best if we don’t meet anymore.”
Robert put his drink down, dumbfounded. “What? Are you serious?
We don’t have to break–”
“Yes, we do,” Christina cut him off. “I do.”
Robert looked at her, baffled. “Christina, come on, let’s keep this fun.
You’re being too emotional about this.”
Christina looked him in the eye. “I’m a woman, Robert. Being
emotional comes with having a vagina.”
Robert stared back at her, obviously annoyed. “Suit yourself,” he
mumbled, standing up and throwing a few bills on the table. There was no
other rebuttal, no fight, no attempts to make her change her mind. “I’ll see
you around.”
“Probably not,” Christina muttered, not looking up, burying her
attention again into her chipping nail polish.
Robert downed his drink in one gulp and walked out.
Christina blotted at the corners of her eyes with her napkin, her
temporary strength still prevailing, refusing the tears that threatened to
release.
“Anything else?” the waiter asked, passing by.
“Actually, yes,” Christina said, looking up.“A peach margarita please.
An order of taquitos…and another bowl of chips.”