The Life List (The List Trilogy) (25 page)

Despite Kurt’s valiant effort to supply me with a diet that consists mostly of disgustingly yummy things like high fructose corn syrup, MSG, and salt, things have become tenser than ever at home. We got into it pretty good when I grilled him about not showing up to his therapy session. His reason for not showing up was… drum roll please…he doesn’t think he’s the one with the problem. That’s it, case closed, have some French fries and figure it out on your own, Chrissy. Then he was off to climb Mt. Everest or something. Dr. Maria was 100% right when she said everything will always being fine for Kurt. It’s been about three weeks since that argument and I think three weeks since we’ve spoken a word to each other.

Regardless of Kurt’s nonattendance,
my
therapy sessions having been moving along quite nicely. There hasn’t been any mention of saving my marriage or of Kurt’s happy-go-lucky attitude. I decided to leave it all behind and focus on why it matters so much to me what people think. Dr. Maria thinks it stems from trying to please Kurt so much when I was a teenager and that eventually it became second nature to me to bend over backwards for everyone. But Kurt and I don’t share relationships with my professional contacts, and so work is the only place where I’m authentic Chrissy and it’s no wonder I’m happiest when I’m there. No one at work knows the people in my private life, and no one in my private life knows my people at work. If they were to ever cross paths, there would be total confusion in both camps. My work people would be flabbergasted to see me act like a pushover and my personal relationships would be shocked to see me act like an unwavering leader. My work life is my last salvation.

Focusing on just me in therapy has been an eye-opening luxury and with every session I move farther away from feeling like a bad person and closer to feeling like a good person who makes bad choices. Some days, I even feel normal. Well, as normal as a married woman who’s contemplating divorce and a break up with her twenty-two-year- old boyfriend can be, I guess. As crazy as it seems, in spite of my imminent break up with Leo, our relationship has gone to the next level. He started referring to me as his girlfriend, and we even say I love you whenever we get off the phone. He worries about my safety when I travel to New York, and I worry about how much money he has in his wallet. He fills up my gas tank when it’s down to a quarter of a tank, and I buy him groceries when his fridge is empty. He leaves me affectionate voicemail messages in the middle of the night, and I always call him to tell him I got home safely after leaving his apartment. Aside from the insanity of it, it’s all very sane and natural.

The things I fear losing without Leo in my life are very different than the things I fear losing without Kurt. They break my heart in polar opposite ways. One loss causes my heart to break for what it’s never gonna have the opportunity to fully experience and the other for what it’s giving up on. The reality is, Leo and I are a couple, and I feel like I need just as much therapy dealing with the loss of him as I do with the loss of Kurt.

One thing’s for sure, both losses are imminent. But until the one with Leo happens, I do whatever I can to be with him. And I mean WHATEVER. Ready for this…lately I’ve been sneaking out of the house after Kurt falls asleep so I can meet up with him. I know, I know, it’s repulsive! Trust me, if I stopped long enough to think about how fucking disgusting I am, I’d want to kill myself. But I’m having too much fun to die, so I try not to think about it. I go a million miles an hour in a million different directions to keep my latest shenanigan from entering my mind. The only time the disgust creeps in is when I’m doing the actual sneaking out of the house, but by the time I make it to my car, the drug has taken over my body and has effectively kicked disgusts ass. I can’t win! I call the sneaking out my “fake freedom,” like the kind you get when you escape from prison. I’m out there and I’m doing what I
want
to be doing, but I’m constantly looking over my shoulder expecting to get caught at any moment. It’s one more reason why the pounds are shedding off of my body. But sneaking out makes me feel drunk on life and love and I doubt I’ll ever be able to stop. Every rendezvous with Leo renews my spirit and makes me feel like I’m the woman I was meant to be. No, not a slut…a free spirited, sexy girl with a boyfriend who adores the hell out of her! Nonetheless, by the time I return home, the drug has worn off and my superwoman powers disintegrate. All that’s left is a love struck adulteress.

Once home, I quietly crawl into bed and stare at Kurt through my tears as I agonize about the unimaginable things that will happen to my soul if I let Leo go, and I hurt all over thinking about losing Kurt as my friend. And then I cry myself to sleep contemplating the only three possible outcomes to the nightmare I’ve created.

1) If I chicken shit out of my quest for freedom and stay married to Kurt,
obviously
I have to completely break things off with Leo. Breaking up with Leo is a gut wrenching option and it’ll have to be done cold turkey.

It’ll be excruciating, like quitting smoking or crack. It can’t be slow and drawn out.

2) If I decide to get a divorce, so that I can be with Leo, I
still
have to tell him the truth about having been married. I can’t cover it up forever. Hiding my marriage from Leo is unforgivable and he’ll react accordingly. For so many reasons this option is worse than the first one because he’ll resent me for manipulating him and end up dumping me.

3) Divorce Kurt
and
break up with Leo. The most sensible of the three options. I’m still waiting for the courage to pull this one off.

No matter which way I look at it, my time with Leo is fleeting. Given my appalling behavior over the last six months, you might find it hard to sympathize with me, but you have to admit, it’s a little tragic. Oh, to hell with what you think. For now, I’m trying my best to block out everybody’s opinion so I can enjoy every minute of my transitory time with him. Obviously this is the stuff I should be talking about in therapy, but instead, I’m still lying to Dr. Maria about having semi-normal nights of dinner, television, and bedtime with my husband. But in reality I’ve made a habit out of sliding out of bed shortly after Kurt falls asleep and tonight I do the same thing.

Just like all the other times, I sneak out to a car pre-packed with all of the essentials; cute outfit, makeup, bottle of wine. I open the garage door and wait a minute to see if Kurt wakes up. I pull out of the garage and sit idly in the driveway for a few more minutes to see if he rushes out to see where I’m going. I drive to the nearest intersection and pull over to see if he’s following me. Every time the coast is clear. Every time I feel a wave of guilt as I imagine him sleeping soundly in our bed, the bed he still keeps trying to convince me to have sex in. Like a drug addict who knows she’s hurting herself and everyone who loves her, I don’t care. I have to have my drug.

Tonight Leo has some old high school buddies over and excluding Ho-Bag, it’s gonna be my first time meeting any of his friends. My reason for showing up late tonight is that I’ve been out with work associates. It’s my usual excuse and Leo never questions it. He operates like that’s just how twenty-eight-year-old women are supposed to run around, in their garter belts and matching bra and panty sets showing up in the middle of the night after long business dinners.

As usual, my heart’s pounding as I park my car. I change my clothes in the front seat. As I clasp a choker around my neck, I peer into the window of Leo’s place, and I can see him and a few other guys standing around drinking beer. It looks like his friends are teasing him about something, probably me. I’m sure they’ve been giving him a shit load of crap for dating a woman who’s six years older than he is, but he says it’s quite the opposite. He says they’re jealous. One guy punches Leo in his massive arm and he smiles, shakes his head, and runs his fingers through his beautiful hair. I can tell he’s as excited for me to walk through the door as I am.

After one last look at myself in the side view mirror, I pick my thong underwear out of my butt crack and make my way to the door. Deep breath. Here goes nothing. I knock. It instantly gets quiet inside. As he opens the door, Leo tells someone to go fuck himself. Boy talk is so hot. He looks blue collar handsome. Frayed cargo shorts, an old white tee-shirt, and flip flops. Before he lets me in, he places his hands on my waist and kisses me sweetly on the lips. He whispers, “Hey, baby.”

He’s never called me baby before. I like it. I like it
a lot
. I like it so much that I wish like hell his friends weren’t here.

“You ready to meet these bastards?”

“Of course.”

There’s the best friend, Taddeo, who’s a newbie investment banker with Goldman Sachs in New York. He’s got more money than he knows what do with, and he flew home this weekend just to meet me. Leo and Taddeo have been friends since they were two years old, and they’re closer than two brothers can be. He’s a nice looking Italian boy that’s legitimately sizing me up, and I wish I had a friend to set him up with.
How fun would that be
?! There’s his buddy, James, who’s also a newbie investment banker but with Robertson Stevens in San Francisco. He’s acting way too excited to meet me, and I want to tell him to calm down, that I’m not here to strip. Then there’s the Korean behind-the-ear-cigarette-wearing-rock-yard-worker roommate whose name I just found out is Billy Ho, a.k.a The Ho-Bag.

After the handshakes and nice to meet you’s are over, I hold up a bottle of red and tell Leo I’ll be in the kitchen for a minute. I want to give them time alone to react. As I turn to ask where the bottle opener is, I catch James back handing Leo on the head and mouth “
Are you fucking kidding me
?!”

Exactly the reaction I was hoping for! So far, so good… and it looks like it’s about to get even better. As I open the drawer to find the corkscrew, my eyes zoom in on the mother lode that’s taped to the side of his refrigerator. There they are! The four little numbers that will either confirm Leo’s commitment to me or negate it and they’re as precious to me as the pass code to access the Hope Diamond. I’m staring at Leo’s voicemail access code. Just punch in #8855 when he doesn’t answer his phone and I’m in. I’ll be able to hear what his friends are saying about me and more importantly, I’ll be able to find out if he’s seeing other girls behind my back. I’ve wanted to believe Leo’s assurances that he’s not a player, that he’s madly in love with me, that he’s different from every other twenty-two-year-old guy out there, and now I have a way to find out for sure. Is it seedy? Yes. Is it an invasion of privacy? Yes. Is hacking into his voicemail any worse than lying to him about being engaged, becoming unengaged, actually being married, and living with my husband in a town twenty minutes away?  Nope, and that’s why I’m gonna dial into it the first chance I get.

If Leo’s voicemail messages prove that he’s been misleading me, I’ll
have to
end it with him, and in a sense, that makes my life a lot easier. Painful…but definitely easier. I tuck the code numbers into the back of my brain as Leo fills my glass and then kisses me. I close my eyes and get a little dizzy as the drug seeps into my skin.

Green Day is blaring on the stereo and the guys are pounding beers and laughing about the last fight Ho-Bag got into. It’s a surreal moment. Everything I’m experiencing is so natural, like it’s the life I
should’ve
been living all along. It beats the hell out of well-balanced dinners, the Discovery Channel, and bed by midnight so I’m fresh for my morning hike. I shiver at the thought of that life, the life I technically still live.

“Cold?”

“No, I’m good.”

Leo grabs my legs and tosses them over his lap. It’s his way of saying “back off guys, she’s all mine.”

I reciprocate by rubbing the back of his neck. I don’t know what I love more, the power of seduction or making his friends uncomfortable.

The five of us continue to drink and talk and laugh for hours. There are no super big questions about my life, mostly just questions about the night Leo and I met, which continually get interrupted by Ho-Bag’s eye rolls. We talk about where I went to college and what my job is like. I tell Taddeo that I’m in New York quite a bit for work and that I’ll call him for drinks next time I’m in town. Leo says “Not a chance unless I’m there with you,” so I suggest that Leo should come with me next time. Taddeo just nods like he ain’t buying what I’m selling. I can’t tell if he thinks I’m full of shit or if he’s overly protective of Leo. Either way, he’s right not to give me the benefit of the doubt. The guys finally leave around 2am. It leaves Leo and me with a few hours alone together before I have to go. Like a vampire, I have to be home before the sun comes up.

“Did I do okay?”

“Baby, you did great. Besides, I already told you, I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about you. Whoever doesn’t like you can go to hell.”

“I’m loving this whole ‘baby’ thing.”

“Good, because that’s what I’m gonna call you for the rest of your life. Now get over here… baby.”

He pulls my waist toward him and together we fall to the couch where we kiss like two of the most affection-deprived people on the planet. I swear, if we could take bites out of each other, we would. Like it’s vital, he rips the choker off of my neck and the pants off of my legs. I pull him into me, and no matter how out of breath I get while we make love, he won’t let my mouth leave his. After a few hours and several failed attempts to get me to spend whatever’s left of the night he reluctantly walks me to my car. It’s getting harder and harder to come up with excuses why I can’t sleep over, and once again I’m reminded of our fleeting time together. My three options are looming over me like a big, crappy cloud. Unless, of course, his voicemail reveals another cloud that might just make the choice for me.

“Come on, just stay with me.”

“I can’t. I’m leaving for Chicago in about five hours, and I still have to pack.”