One More Year: The Romantic Path of Ana Lee (The Path Less Taken Series Book 1)

by SJ Cavaletti

  Rebecca was a hard worker. Bright, though more industrious than anything. She went to college and got a degree in psychology and eventually moved into consulting. Her job was essentially to administer Myers-Briggs tests to senior managers and executives and then help them understand how their instinctual personalities could be either strengths or weaknesses in the workplace. She made a pretty good living for a 23 year old and when I spoke of her it was as a mom speaks of their child. Sheer pride. Her metal had been forged of some material far stronger than mine. It would be years before I told her that.

  We met at the Marriott near the convention center only 7 hours after I arrived back home from my night shift. My experience was like the recurring nightmare of my childhood where something was chasing me and my body moved but ever so slowly and desperate shouts came out of my mouth in a slow motion type of delay. My brain seemed to be nearly two whole seconds ahead of physical reaction. This was annoying because the one thing I hadn’t ever really confessed to my sister was my drug use and prolific drinking; I’d need to perk up. Or tell her I had a hangover on a Wednesday. Neither of these seemed like a good option. She knew I was a stripper but that I mostly had my shit together, only really drinking on weekends.

  I saw her in the lobby. Her bright, childish smile hadn’t changed since she was 7 when she first started smiling. She had seemed like a grumpy child for the first 6 years of life, one that stared at people, not blinking, her mouth always slightly ajar. But then she met Jason, a happy ham of a boy who brought her out of her shell. She and Jason were still friends today and he was now living in New York City doing small parts in Broadway musicals. We still met up with him once a year, usually around Christmas, when he would come to kiss my Mom. We all still silently thanked him for helping my sister find her facial muscles.

  Rebecca ran up to me with open arms, squealing with delight. The sisterly love was infectious and helped to wake me from my hibernation. How I loved her.

  “Oh my gosh,” she said, “You look amazing. New hair?”

  “Oh, yeah, shorter, blonder. You like?

  She shook her head as if to say ‘yes’ and then kissed her lips as Italians do to signify perfection.

  “Let’s get some food,” I said, “I’m starving. And really need a coffee. I worked last night so sorry if I seem a bit tired.”

  “No prob. I’m glad you came, sorry I had to meet so early but my company has literally flown me out for a night and a day. I got here really late yesterday and am heading home on the red eye after the conference.”

  Rebecca still lived in New Hampshire just to be near to our Mom. She commuted over two hours a day to Boston for work just to keep an eye on our giver of life. I was grateful for her steadfast dedication but also worried about how hard she worked and how little life she experienced. But rather than talk about her, as usual, she wanted to live vicariously through me.

  “So what’s the latest and greatest in Wonderland?”

  That was her nice way of saying Underworld.

  “Well, actually, I met a guy,” I said.

  She was taken aback to say the least.

  “What’s this? I thought you weren’t going to date anyone while you were a dancer? Or has your little sex buddy turned into something more. What’s his name? Vincent?”

  “Yeah, Vin is out of the picture. I didn’t really expect to meet anyone. It just sort of happened. It’s not like I was hanging out on Tinder or anything.”

  “Wow. Ok. So how did you meet this guy? What’s his name? Deets please.”

  This is where I felt a bit stuck. Until now, opinions about Carlos fell like snowflakes on my shoulders, constantly, gentle, and I was mostly able to brush them off. My sister, her judgment was always more like hot summer rain: warm and necessary; and because I rushed out with little protection to greet it, it soaked me to the core.

  “So, I know this sounds shady but I met him at the Club. But he was just kind of part of a bigger group celebrating, I mean, it was more a peer pressure visit than his own desire to see boobs.”

  Her face had already contorted. Not a good start.

  “He only stayed for an hour or so but we just clicked right away so he asked me on a date and, what can I say… it’s magical.”

  Finally, she smiled.

  She asked, “So what do you like about him most?”

  “Mostly we just seem so alike and it’s easy. We can talk about anything…I think it’s probably his emotional intelligence I love. It’s funny because I’ve always kind of considered myself to be pretty deep but Carlos, that’s his name, always takes things one layer deeper.”

  “What you just said… he’s older then? Because I don’t usually hear comments like that about boys in their mid-twenties.”

  “Yeah, he’s older…late forties.”

  “Late forties?! That’s a lot older than you, Ana. Geez… Daddy complex?

  She laughed as though she didn’t mean it but probably did.

  She continued, “I mean, it’s not that I have a problem with that but… ok, not to be rude but he either comes with baggage or there could be something wrong with him.”

  My sister’s psychology training was both a blessing and a burden.

  “So, he has been married before, and has four kids.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes.

  “But it’s all amicable and actually, he’s asked me to meet them in a few days. So…”

  “So… I’ve got to stop you there, Babe. That’s a big deal. I mean, just… it’s something I hope you’ve taken the time to think about.”

  I had and I hadn’t. My life had been a push pull between worrying about money and Carlos’ family life and being addicted to this newfound feeling of joy and adventure with this man that matched my soul.

  “I know you’re thinking about Nancy,” I said, “I’m not Nancy so it’s not going to be awful for the children.”

  “Ana, I’m not worried about you being awful of course! You’re awesome, not comparable to Nancy at all but ok, let’s put it this way. The one good thing that Nancy did was stick around.”

  My sister was right. Nancy was fucked up but for all of our unusual childhood nuances at least they were all consistent.

  Rebecca continued, “You can’t meet the kids if you aren’t intending on staying with Carlos. It can’t just be for fun. Look, kids thrive on consistency, expectation and rhythm… not too different for grown ups actually. I mean, Nancy was an obstacle. Many things in our childhood were obstacles but it was a bit like running hurdles. We knew when they were coming, how high they were and even, in your case, how to end the chase.”

  I looked at her and said nothing. Fortunately she took up the baton again, “Listen, have fun. Get to know him better and then make a move. I mean, I just saw you a few months ago and you didn’t know the guy then so this isn’t a long-term relationship yet. My advice is just hold off on the kid thing.”

  “But I will also say this,” she continued,, “If he has invited you to meet his kids then he probably thinks you’re the one.”

  I smiled and blushed inside. Such a special feeling to be loved that deeply by such an incredible man.

  “I love him, too. But I guess you’re right about the kid thing. I suppose we shouldn’t rush it. But I’m definitely in love. He’s honestly just so unbelievable.”

  “Well don’t let me poo poo on your parade. Tell me more.”

  The waitress arrived and I ordered that much needed coffee and we both ordered French toast. Funny how people revert to childhood habits around family.

  “So, I dunno even where to begin, Bex. I guess he brings out a sense of adventure in me. He loves to travel like I do though he does it on a different scale. He’s well read… but..I guess… What is so nice is that he makes me talk about Dad and my own thoughts around that. He’s actually interested in my nerdy side. We’re so alike.”

  She smiled as she listened and observed.

  “It’s hard to describe love… but I get you. I mean, we
ll, I don’t since I’m not sure I’ve been in love myself but when I counsel people and they speak of it, it’s just this. What do you guys do together?”

  I started to feel on edge as I considered leaving out the best details such as the yacht, Alain Dubois and safari. But if this was real between me and Carlos, my sister would be a part of it.

  “So, we’ve been on some pretty great dates. LA, gorgeous food around town, Monaco…” I said.

  “Monaco?! What the flip,” she exclaimed, “How did you afford that? I thought you only just went to Hawaii last month or something?”

  “Well, he paid for it,” I said sheepishly.

  “He paid for you to fly with him to Monaco,” she said, slowly, questioning whether or not she had heard right.

  “Yeah… he has kind of paid for everything. It’s the chivalrous thing to do, isn’t it?”

  She looked at me, eyes narrowed, “Right so let’s get this straight. He took you to LA, Monaco, out to dinners… All paid. Oh and he already has four kids to support and possibly, unless he’s a widower, an ex-wife.”

  I processed her conclusion. “Yes, my boyfriend is rich.”

  I knew this wouldn’t sit well with her. We had both had drunken pops at our Mother in the past. She was loving, well meaning and always kind to us but there was no doubt that there were times we felt she was vapid and that her beauty queen, trophy wife path was one that neither of us coveted. On the contrary, even rebelled against. My sister bit her tongue. She didn’t know what to say. She had always swallowed down my stripping as a means to an end. She had been on me since graduation to get another job but I had always managed to come up with some seemingly sensible reason why I didn’t have one.

  She had known that I just needed a good few years to blow off some steam and not take life so seriously. She conceded I would pay off my remaining college debt a lot faster. I had kept it all together through childhood not only for myself but also for her, playing Mom where it was needed and sticking up for her when she was about to get the short end of the stick. For this, she had granted me a huge, years long sabbatical. But it ended abruptly. Her words felt like I was being fired from being her sister.

  “I hope to God this isn’t a ‘like mother, like daughter’ situation. I mean, Ana, seriously, you are like a math genius. You don’t need some guy to take care of you.”

  Ouch. That really, really hurt. But in typical sister on sister fashion it didn’t take long for my defences to shoot up.

  “I knew you’d say that but it really doesn’t stand as logic that I’m not allowed to fall in love with a rich man.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But think about it… I mean really think about it. The only reason you can fit in with this wild, Carlos lifestyle is because you don’t really work. You don’t have a real job where you have two weeks paid holiday and the rest of the time you need to do as you’re told. So what… you think you’ll go off and marry this Carlos guy and then you’ll go off and work in some D.C. think tank and save the world? I’m just saying… I don’t want to be pessimistic Ana you’re on the fast track to being a kept woman.”

  She was right. How far would I be able to take this relationship with Carlos unless I was willing to sacrifice some of my own future goals? My own schedule and my own freedom? As it stood I had already skipped work plenty and probably sacrificed my good credit rating just to grab a spot of lunch with the guy. I had been so wound up in just making sure I made the rent that I hadn’t really considered the long term possibilities (or lack thereof). And you know why this never came up? Because my own personal long term possibilities had long since disappeared. I didn’t even know what I wanted for myself anymore, let alone from a relationship.

  My sister always challenged me. Most of the time her affirmations and objections were fair but this time, I couldn’t help but feel that if Carlos had just been a busy career guy that wasn’t uber rich we might not be having this conversation. I couldn’t help but think that while there were many things to consider, both of our views were being tainted by availability heuristic. Basically this is a mental shortcut our brains take in decision-making. It means that when you make a decision, your brain looks for similar circumstances and examples, related events. The outcome of those things in your memory can pollute the decision at hand and make you decide something without considering all the options in the present. For us, it meant that we did not recall a positive outcome for relationships in general, let alone those where the man dominated the woman.

  “Two words,” I said, “Cognitive bias.”

  She rolled her eyes but smiled the kind of inverted smile one does when one is trying not to do so.

  “Maybe so,” she said, “That could be. Maybe you and I are always going to have a thing against old, rich guys like Dad… or whatever it is you are implying but I’m just saying…there may be more than one outcome possible, but one of them is certain: you will be carrying his baggage. The children will not disappear. They will be yours to deal with. Of all the men in the world, why choose one that comes with a load?”

  It made me sad to hear her reasoning. Not because she didn’t exactly approve of me and Carlos. This much I knew could turn around the instant she saw his lovely charm, warm heart and loving ways. The reason I was sad was that it was so very obvious that she had never loved anyone herself. What a shame though I suppose I had waited til 25 myself. Two more years, Bex. Two more years.

  Our coffees were refilled and our French toast arrived. We both said how lovely it looked and remarked at how big the California strawberries were. I told her to come back again soon to go to the Pier 39 Farmers Market and we could get a whole pound of them. We laughed and shared little details about life. Updates on Mom and Rebecca still wanted a dog but was too busy.

  The time was over all too soon and I hugged my pet rock goodbye. As I sat there drinking the rest of my coffee and watching her walk away I wondered what I would do, could do and should do.

  Poorest Rich Girl in Town

  That day I dragged myself home and decided I really needed to have a heart to heart with Carlos. My conversation with Rebecca changed everything with me. Having rolled the night before, depleted of serotonin, any optimism I had once had for my relationship with Carlos had seemed to go through my liver like the drugs had.

  Having processed through the filters of my mind, body and sister, I knew there were things we needed to talk about. I had three issues to cover: first, I couldn’t see the kids until I knew we were going to stay together for the long haul; second, I wanted to know how he saw our future together and finding time to see one another because third, I needed to work.

  I had realized that I had become a beck and call girl. Before my chat with Rebecca it never occurred to me that Carlos might actually expect that from me. It’s what Felicity did; it’s what he knew. But the only way to find out was to ask.

  Walking would clear my head. I watched an episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians one day with Jamie and one of the sisters was having a walk therapy session. It was the only good thing to have come out of that otherwise wasted hour: the realization that walking can be therapeutic. On my post smut TV Google search I found that the mood enhancing hormones of exercise are credited with the more creative and deeper way of figuring things out for walk therapy patients. I didn’t apply walk therapy many times in between then and now. My life had been really uncomplicated before Carlos and after ditching my Dad. I lived on my own, my friends didn’t ask much of me and apart from needing to call my sister and Mom once a week, I had no family obligations. But now, I needed to walk like I’ve never walked before. Ok, I caught a few buses in between because SoMa to the Golden Gate and back again was going to be a blister fest otherwise. My goal was to get on that inspiring orange vermillion.

  About an hour later I approached the beautiful piece of engineering. It is impossible to stand at the foot of that massive and elegant structure and not feel special for being allowed to see it. Although I had lived i
n San Francisco for several years now, I still had the same breathtaking experience when I came close to touching the steel that I did when approaching other iconic man made wonders of the world like the Eiffel Tower or the Statue of Liberty.

  I stared whimsically at the suspension bridge that tied together the city hills with the grassy ones of the Marin Headlands. She was anthropomorphic, so very human to me. I felt a synergy with her form and a desire to be more like her. I wondered if she, like me, sometimes felt overstretched trying to hold together two completely different worlds and unite them into one fluid experience. She was unbreakably strong, yet graceful, and her unique orange hue explained everything I wanted to be: to blend into the natural surroundings but not get lost in the fog.

  I mounted the many stairs and climbed into her body. Like most women, it is impossible to take in the beauty of her form from the inside out. Staring out at the amazing landscape that wanted for nothing, my head cleared completely. Not a thought of Carlos, not a thought of Dad, no calculations…not a thought of what even what to make for dinner remained. Just calm. Breathe. Enjoy this Ana.

  Once my head had emptied of noise I thought about what attributes I wanted in a man. In no particular order, the list began to compose: very intelligent, kind, wants a family, open with emotions, not afraid to call me out, into travel and brings out the fun in me (I could be so serious sometimes). With my list on the side I brought Carlos into the frame. He seemed a perfect match to my needs. He was smart, challenged my judgments and opinions, didn’t hold back his feelings and let’s face it, he didn’t just travel, he ruled the world. He also loved me. Perhaps this was the very first time I ever felt loved from my soul to my fingernails, how could I possibly let go?