The Discount Life: Step Five - Inventory Yourself

The next time I saw Christian I spotted him first. We agreed, via text, to meet on Wednesday night for dinner since our Thursday night class would be preempted by Thanksgiving. He was standing at the bar, one forearm resting on the dark mahogany counter, his stance accentuated by the curve of his sloping back. He was chatting with the bar tender, a notably beautiful young girl who seemed to have swallowed his consciousness whole. He was laughing. She reached over, touching his arm as she spoke. He laughed some more. With Stanley, I might have thought he was flirting. Stanley so rarely made social exchanges with others it would have been a stand out for him to laugh with a girl behind the bar. With Christian, all I saw was a passionately beautiful man, who turned completely on his heels, open armed and eager when he saw me.


“Chloe!” His hug was engulfing but in contrast to Andrews, gentle. He chose me, I wanted to say to the girl behind the bar. But Christian’s actions made the statement unnecessary. He was unafraid to make himself clear. He kissed me like a man coming home from war – tender but intense, a ravenous hunger hidden just below his equanimity. “I can’t believe its been almost a week!” He smiled. Wide. Completely mischievous. “I’m tempted to skip dinner entirely, “ he said.

“I wouldn’t mind that, “ I said.

“But I don’t want to do that half way thing again,” he led me to a spot in the back corner of the restaurant. There was a roaring fire – candles lit at the center of the table. Was this guy magic or what? “I want to give you an all the way date.” He pulled back the chair for me and said, “We’ll talk, we’ll eat and then I’ll take you home.” He was so confident. His aura a cocoon of assuredness. You felt, in his presence, that for him anything was possible and so for you, by transference. It’s astounding what imagined invincibility can do for mood. We chattered as new couples often do – about nothing, about everything. The evening passed in a wine induced blink; not a lull to be had, not a thought left unspoken. Of course Mr. Handsome wasn’t bad to look at but the breadth of conversation he inspired was a mental stimuli that carried us from dinner , to check please, to home. His home. I, ashamedly, was still living at Mel’s apartment. An arrangement that would need to be addressed soon but one that seemed to suit us both so well we’d been ignoring it.

“I’m glad we get to do this right,” Christian said. He came from the kitchen carrying two glasses of wine. Handing one to me he said, “If we’d done it last time it wouldn’t have been spectacular.” So we didn’t have sex. Truth is power but in this case the truth brought on waves of panic. So this time it was going to happen for real. And I would be aware and responsible. I was choosing this. Choosing him. I. Was. Terrified.

But he turned on music, lover’s music and reached for me. He pulled me near with his free hand and danced, his hips pressed up against mine, moving in rhythm to the music. I relaxed instantly. It almost felt rehearsed. Like a standard set of motions he exercised in the presence of all the woman he seduced. A routine where the only change was the woman. Me. But when he said, “I have to tell you something” and followed with, “I haven’t danced this much since I took Trisha Blanton to prom,” all evidence triggering doubt vanished, leaving in its place a genuine delight. I threw my head back and laughed. “I’m serious,” he said. “I’m not really a dancing kind of guy.”

“I noticed,” I said. And he stopped, pulling me to him so close and so firmly I almost couldn’t breathe. Our lips were separated by the thinnest bit of space and he said, “I’m trying to impress you. Is it working?” I twisted my face as if to say well, let me think and then I kissed him.

“Yes,” I said.” And the rest, as they say, is history.

This time I would not wake up in want of memory. To this day I remember every detail – the way he moved. The way he felt. The way his eyes sought out mine just before he called my name and smiled. Memories like these are the reasons they say no regrets, live like you’re dying, carpe diem. They’re brief and intense, like a flash of light so enamor ant it blinds you. You don’t think, you don’t analyze, you can’t. You’re living. They’re the kind you analyze later – imploringly, deploringly or both. But when I woke that Thursday morning to a charmingly drooling Mr. Handsome and the feeling of déjà vu, I didn’t have to check under the covers for confirmation. In fact, if we’re frank, I knew exactly where I had thrown his boxers the night before.

I spent the better part of Thanksgiving morning grinning from ear to ear. It was the kind of exuberance you can’t hide from the people around you. Mel & Jack stared at me all morning with the knowing expression of a couple who’ve been together so long they can smell newness like hounds on a fox. Mel asked if it was worth it. I responded, “I think so.” She said good, and even though she smiled I couldn’t erase the motherly tone with which she’d said it; like a parent watching their words so as not to cross the line and push their child into further mischief.

Her tone replayed in my head all the way to my parent’s house and half way through the preparations for dinner. They all: the aunts and uncles, my parents, analyzed my every move between salutations. No one asked about Stanley. There was a quiet in the room that had so much energy it could have run a space shuttle the moon. When they thought I wasn’t paying attention, they tossed each other looks that held an entire conversation. I wasn’t fooled but I let it all pass. I was in too good a mood.

“You’re very giddy today,” my mother said, between placing the sweet potatoes and the mashed potatoes on the table. Her plump figure was tied tightly into a red apron. Her auburn hair a slightly frizzy pile on top of her head. Her statement was a question, even if she didn’t end it with upward intonation.

“I am,” I said. “I’ve had a good week.” I went around laying out the silverware, her gaze following me.

“Oh? “ she said. “Did you find an apartment?”

“No.”

“Did you learn a new song on the violin?”

“Uhhh,…no. Not really. I’ve been practicing the old songs.”

“Did you run your marathon?” Okay. I could see where she was going with this. No need to drag it out.

“Mom. Enough. I’m working on it.”

She came up and put her hands on my shoulders. “Are you?” She hugged me and unlike Christian and unlike Andrew and unlike any man who’d ever touched me, the feeling of her arms wrapped around my body catalyzed peace and absolution. She pulled back and stared up at my eyes. My mother, a whole five inches shorter than myself. “I want you to be happy. Okay? Just make sure what you’re doing is going to get you to those goals you’re always talking about. That’s all.”

“I am.” She raised her eyebrows at me then turned to work on separating some more silverware. Her back to me she said, “Great sex is wonderful honey. But it can cause a lot of confusion. Seems to me your whole Discount Life theory is about ridding yourself of confusion,” she turned around with a butter knife in her hand. Pointing it at me and she said, “You might want to think about that before you go getting too involved.”

“Mom!,” I whispered, indignantly. “ Who said I’m having great sex. You can’t jump from I had a good week to I had great sex…” she put her hand up to stop me. It’s amazing how even as a grown woman, that still works when it comes from your mother. I folded my arms across my chest.

“I was not born yesterday,” she said. “You’re glowing.” She put the last of the serving ware out on the table and called that dinner was just about ready. “And be careful there. That kind of love is fleeting.”

“So you think I should go back to steady but loveless?” She came up to me again. Close enough that she could have kissed my nose if she were tall enough.

“I think you’ve lost your balance kid. Loveless? No. I don’t want you there. But don’t go from one extreme to another. Find your balance.”

“I’m happy. He makes me feel…”

“Exactly. He makes you feel…and what do you feel when you’re not with him?” I didn’t respond. “There’s your discount.” She put her hands on both sides of my face and pulled my cheek down to her level. She kissed me there and said, “You want to be happy? Go run your marathon” just before releasing me and going to check on my father. I tried to rub off the dark pink lipstick marks she’d left on my cheek but they had discolored my skin like a stain. Her mark, undeniably, planted. Her wisdom, involuntarily laid.

Of course she was right, which is a thing no girl wants to admit of her mother. But I was happy. Christian made me feel alive. Tingling and vibrant – like the whole world had been set on fire. But that was her point – perhaps that made it too hot to touch for long. On a deeper level, the happiness I felt was not inherent to me but instead based solely on the feelings he gave me. Remove him and I still had not completed any of the things I’d set out to accomplish – for me. Chapter 5: Inventory Yourself. Do I place my value outside myself? According to Get Some Manners I had placed my value in the hands of Mr. Handsome. Let’s be clear, they are very skilled hands under which I would be thrilled to find myself again. But the truth is still the truth, isn’t it? I had placed my value in Stanley before him, and in him before me. Inventorying yourself, as it turns out, is not so excruciating as it is challenging. Once the awareness is there you can’t go back.

I watched my parents throughout dinner. I listened to mom say she was thankful we were a family. Thankful we could all be together. Thankful for me and my father. I was thankful that my first formal dinner without Stanley did not require a place card. That it was with my family – the one outside source from which it is healthy to derive value, though, even so, not entirely. I was thankful that even if I’d side stepped from being true to myself, I had the support of people around me to help put me back on track. I was thankful that Mel had not said a word about Christian. I began to understand, sitting there at the table –the football game in the background, Uncle Sal stealing glances around the door frame and screaming at the ref like they were old solider buddies in a fight, that the goals on my list were not just there to make me feel accomplished but also to help me find me – alone. That these people, my family, my very best friends, were the ones in whom I should be putting stock. For as much as they would deplete me, they would also take the time to refill me. And that with them, even in aloneness, I would not be alone.

Sitting around the table, chatting about the future, I knew, in the deepest recesses of my heart, that Christian was an in the moment kind of guy. That the bartender at the restaurant last night, though not a problem that evening, might become one in the future. If not her, someone else. I knew, like I knew that I couldn’t be with Stanley and I couldn’t live with Mel, that the chances of finding lasting contentment in him were slim. I was willing to accept that, even though I wasn't willing to stop seeing him yet.  And as I stood to clear my plate and shake the thought from my head, mom said, “And Chloe’s going to have an exciting year next year. She’s going to run a marathon and….go skydiving is it?”

I glared at her with equal parts love and anger. “I think I’ve decided on hiking. Andrew and I are going to plan a trip to hike Grandfather Mountain.” Although, truth be told, we hadn't talked about it in months. 

“Who’s Andrew?” whispered Aunt Betsy to Uncle Sal. “I don’t know” he whispered back. I let it go. No need to explain male/female friendships that were just that. Older people never understood that kind of relationship.

“Well either way, “ Mom said over the chatter,” I can’t wait to see what she’ll do.”

When I got to Mel’s that night I stayed up until 2 am on the computer. Just before I closed my eyes for sleep, I took the plunge, clicked the submit button and signed up for my first marathon.