The Life List (The List Trilogy) (23 page)

I daydream for a minute about what it would be like if Leo was my husband and he was the one about to walk through the door. He’d hug me and kiss my neck before he even put his keys down. I’d have something grilling away on the BBQ and a glass of wine waiting for him and we’d compare notes about how much we missed each other during the day as we made our way to the couch. He’d lift my feet onto his lap and rub them while he re-capped his day and I’d ohhh and ahhh over his investment banker sexiness. He’d marvel at how pretty the house and I look, and he’d convince me to quit my job because, what the heck, I’m gonna do it anyway once we have kids. Then his hand would travel up my thigh, underneath my skirt…

The dog barks, and it snaps me out of dreamland and into pissed-off-ville. In order for any of that stuff to happen, I have to do a lot of really confusing and unpardonable shit to Kurt and I have to admit a lot of really confusing and unpardonable crap to Leo. How can I possibly? Where will I find the courage? I mean, I literally have to destroy lives to get what I want, and I’ll have to admit so many mistakes. Most days it seems easier to live like Francesca than do all of that. I don’t have the answers to anything anymore. The only thing I know how to do is continue to lie until hopefully, God willing, the answers to all of my questions come to me or…my friends inject me with a huge dose of truth serum when I strap myself to the table next week.

I start to pace the house like a caged zoo animal because I’m overwhelmed with the barrage of questions that constantly fire away in my head. The what-ifs and the what happens nexts…they never go away and they never get answered. On the outside, I look like I’m in complete control, but really I live in a state of perpetual confusion. I decide to do the only thing I can think of to prevent myself from having a nervous breakdown. I start a journal. I must really be losing my mind because I always thought journals were for total pansies and whackos. I guess I’m both of those things now.

I start writing about the lies. Out of all the horrible things penetrating my brain, the lies are what cause me the most angst. A journal documenting all of them might help me see the error of my ways. If not that, it will definitely help me remember what I tell everybody.

There’s the most recent Dallas/Chicago lie. There’s the lie to Kurt about staying the night at Slutty Co-workers apartment in San Francisco when I was really hanging out with Leo. I try to keep Slutty Co-worker up to speed with all of my stories and itinerary modifications just in case she crosses paths with Kurt or Leo. But, I tell so many fibs it’s hard enough for me to remember where I was supposed to be half the time, let alone keep her informed. Then there are the stories I tell Dr. Maria. I have to try to keep those consistent with what I tell Kurt in case my whereabouts come up at one of their sessions. It’s a grind.

As I put pen to paper I realize this journal is the one place I can be honest, something I haven’t been in a very long time. At first I have difficulty getting the truth down. I write a sentence, read it, get sick to my stomach, and then pace a bit before I make my way back to the journal. After a few sentences and a few laps around the house, the flood gates of my fraudulent life are released and I can’t write fast enough. Before I know it, I have fifteen pages of honesty. Shit, I guess I had enough time to call Leo after all.

I take a few minutes to re-read my reality and there’s no denying it, it’s gross and painfully obvious I need therapy. Real therapy, not the fake kind I’ve been getting. The sound of the garage door opening jolts me out of my condemnation, and I quickly stash the journal in my work bag. As I make my way down the hall to greet Kurt, it crosses my mind that by now Megan has probably told Leo what she saw last night. I’m sure she used her run-in with me as an excuse to call him, just like I used my run-in with her as an excuse to call him. I haven’t had the nerve to listen to my voicemail yet. I’m sure he’ll demand that I see him right away and that’s not possible until
next
Thursday when Kurt goes out of town. I’m in for a shitty seven days.

Surviving

May, 1998

The day after the bowling alley shit show, I only had one message from Leo.

“We need to talk.”

I knew I was in trouble, so I didn’t call him back.

Nothing for three days and then, “It’s total bullshit that I can never reach you.”

Yep, I’m in big trouble!

Then nothing until the message I received today.

“I was mad. Now I’m worried. Call me today or I’m gonna wander the streets of Danville calling out your name. Someone will tell me where I can find you.”

Time to make the call.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“That took long enough.”

“I’m sorry, Leo. I have so much going on right now. We’re getting ready to launch a new line and I’ve been working non-stop.”

“Right, so I guess it’s a good thing you were able to take a break from all the chaos at the office and bowl a few games.”

Uh-oh.

“So Megan told you she saw me?”

“You knew she would. Who’s the guy?”

“Hey, I thought you told her never to call you again.”

“Don’t change the subject. Who’s the guy?”

“Kurt.” Silence.

“Leo, we’re breaking things off slowly. We have lots of friends together, and we’re still settling things with the house and cars and…”

“You guys own the house together?”

“Well, yeah. I assumed you knew that.”

“This is fucking ridiculous, Chrissy. End it with him now.”

“It’s not that easy. We have history and I want this break up to be as amicable as possible.”

“
Are you saying you wanna be friends with him
!?”

“How can I make you understand any of this?”

You know…without telling you the truth!

“You can’t, and I’m getting sick of you trying to make me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying this is bullshit. For months you’ve gone in and out of my life. You go days without calling me and you NEVER pick up the phone when I call you. I
always
have to wait for a call back. What’s up with that?”

“That’s totally not true!” It’s totally true.

“Bullshit! Tell me Chrissy…
why do I always have to wait for a call back
?”

“Dammit Leo, can’t you just try to put yourself in my position for one minute?”

“No.”

“Then we’re gonna have a problem because I can’t cut Kurt out of my life, not right now.”

Finally some truth.

“Honestly, I don’t know what my relationship with him will look like in the future. But right now, I can’t imagine not knowing him, and I hope you can live with that.”

Wow, another truth. I’m on a roll.

“I won’t live with that.”

“So that’s it then? I have to cut off all communication with him in order to have a relationship with you?”

“That’s what I’m saying. Look, settle the stuff with the house but when that’s over, I don’t want him hanging around. He had his chance and he blew it. Why the fuck should he have the privilege of still knowing you?”

Given the lying and cheating, I hardly think anyone would consider it a privilege to know me let alone be married to me. But I cannot fathom
never
talking to Kurt ever again. Every memorable experience I’ve had in the last twelve years has been with that man. If he goes, will my memories have to go with him? Will over a decade of my life become taboo to talk about? Will Kurt have to be dead to me? Worse, will I have to be dead to him?! My God, I can’t have any of that. There has to be a way for me to have my wedding cake and eat it too.

“Leo, I love that you want me all to yourself and if I were you, I would be demanding the same thing. But, I really need you to give me time to handle this my way. If I told you anything else, I’d be lying to you.”

And a lot more than I already have.

“Don’t talk to me about him ever again. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t do anything with him ever again. Okay?”

Gulp. “Okay.”

“Give me your phone number, Chrissy.
The real one
, not some voicemail account.”

“What are you talking about? It is real! It’s my work cell phone, so I don’t always answer it.”

“Then give me your personal cell number.”

As if things weren’t complicated enough, I give him my real cell number, hang up, and then promptly turn off my phone.

If Leo and I met under honest circumstances, there would be no need for demands.   I’d give him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. That’s what adoration gets you.

And self-deprecation is what adultery gets you. I hate myself for manipulating how much Leo cares about me by keeping the most important thing about me a secret. But there’s no way he can ever know I’m married because, if he did, all of his love for me would turn to hate. The guy HATES liars, he said it himself! For that reason, I’m eventually gonna have to disappear from Leo’s life. The thought of that makes me sick, but not quite as sick as when I plop down on the waiting room chair across from Sad Frumpy Lady who’s wearing the same damn outfit she wore two weeks ago and the week before that and the week before that.

“Come on back, hun.”

I’ve been looking forward to this session. Kurt’s solo appointment was earlier today and I’m eager to hear how it went.

“Tell me, Chrissy, how were things with Kurt after the session we had together?”

I bet she asked him the same question and she’s gonna see how my answer stacks up to his.

“So-so. He took me out to a dinner that consisted mostly of food he hates and he didn’t scoff when I ordered three beers. Oh, and he apologized for not coming to my defense with his family as often as he should’ve and that was nice. I appreciated all the effort, but to be honest with you, those things didn’t make me feel good.”

“How did it feel?”

“Like he was pretending to be someone he’s not, just like I did for all those years. Eventually, he’ll get sick of it and he’ll go back to how he was before. Or, and this is doubtful, he’ll continue to do things he doesn’t like just to make me happy and he’ll end up feeling like I do now, and that can’t be good. How did he say it went when you met with him earlier today?”

“He didn’t show up.”

“
What are you talking about
?!”

I came here today to tell Dr. Maria about wanting freedom…to get help with an exit strategy. But this news totally blows me off course. This news blows. Period.

“Not even a call to cancel. Do you think he forgot?”

Kurt just took a big crap on the life preserver I threw out to him.

He just rejected my sadness. He just rejected my anger. He just flat out rejected me.

“I don’t think so. We talked about it last night. Gee, something must have come up at work. I’m so sorry he didn’t call to cancel.”

“Chrissy, you’ve got to stop making excuses and apologizing for that man. He’s a big boy and just like he was conscious of missing many significant events in your life, he’s conscious of his decision not to come to therapy today.”

The rejection that Kurt just punched me in the stomach with and Dr. Maria’s claim that he’s
fully
aware of this punch and the
million
before it, made me crumble on her couch. Through my jagged breaths and runny nose, I say what I should’ve said a long time ago.

“But…if…I…stop…making excuses… .I’ll have…to…admit…the truth.”

“What do you think that truth is?”

“That…I…married a man…who doesn’t…love me.”

After a few minutes of nose blowing and mascara mopping, Dr. Maria tenderly looks at me and says, “Actually, I disagree. I believe he loves you more than anything in the whole world.”

Oh, great. Is she crazy now, too?

“Then why would he reject me like this?”

“I don’t think he’s rejecting you; I think he’s rejecting any type of self-examination that may expose his imperfections.”

“But nobody’s perfect. What’s there to fear about learning about yourself and maybe becoming a better person?”

“I didn’t get a chance to spend much time with him but my guess is that he’s the type of person who’s incapable of tolerating the pain that goes with self-examination.”

“Why? I mean, he’s such a tough guy with all of his extreme sports and what not. He basically risks his life every time he leaves the house.  How can it be any more demanding for him to risk his heart?”

“Oh, it’s much more demanding. The pain of a broken heart is a million times worse than a broken arm.”

I should know that better than anyone.

“In Kurt’s subconscious mind, the pain of self-examination far outweighs the benefit. Let’s take his family for instance. He’s come to believe the way his family operates,
the way he was raised
, is in good health and, if I’m to take you at your word, it was not. You even said he reprimands you for pointing out their imperfections and hurtful actions. Well, it’s quite common for someone who thinks they’re perfect or someone who thinks life is perfect to lash out at anyone who admonishes those beliefs. For you to be right about his family or for me to question them is too risky for him. It would break his heart and he won’t allow it. He feels safe where he is.”

“Can’t he see how toxic they are?”

“Chrissy, your realities are so very different. Whether he realizes it or not, he probably didn’t come to therapy this afternoon because he knew I would question things he thinks are perfectly fine and his instinct would be to get defensive. You’ve permitted him to react that way, but he knows it would be inappropriate to lash out at someone he hardly knows. Doing so would make your reasons for coming to therapy legitimate and he’s afraid of that. Even if he were to surprisingly acknowledge the imperfections of his family, it would open the floodgates to all the other imperfections that may exist in his life and I just don’t think he can do that.”

“So he’d choose them over me?”

“He’s not even aware of there being a choice, that would be indicative of an imperfect situation and he just can’t go there.”