The Life List (The List Trilogy) (26 page)

“So get a few hours of sleep here and then go home to pack.”

Think damn it! Think!

“I can’t, I have to let the dog out.”

“You have a dog?”

“Uh yeah, I kind of share custody of the dog with
him
.”

“Jesus. Just let him have the dog.”

“No way! I love my dog.”

“Then tell numb nuts that you want the dog.”

“Numb nuts? Is that the name we’re calling him now?” He’s not having any of my witty questioning.

“I guess that means you see him when you exchange the dog.”

“Um, yeah.”

“What the hell, Chrissy? My parents are divorced after twenty years and three kids and
they
don’t even talk. What’s going on?”

“I’m falling in love with you, that’s what’s going on. Can’t that be enough for right now?”

“Not when he’s in the picture.”

“I’m sorry Leo, but I need more time to sort through my stuff with Kurt.”

“DAMN IT, I don’t want to hear his name! I swear to God I’ll punch the fucking car window out if you say it one more time!”

He’s mad. I mean
really, really
mad. So I do the only thing I know that will calm him down. I wrap my hands around his neck, pull him to my lips, and kiss him until he calms down.

“I’m running out of patience with all of this, Chrissy.”

Even in the off chance that Leo decided to be cool with the fact that I’m married, it takes
at least
eight months to get a divorce in California. We’d never make it with his short fuse.

“I know, I’m sorry about my big mess. Really, I am. Look, I’m back from Chicago in a few days.  Do you wanna get together next weekend?”

“I won’t be here.”

“Where are you going?”

“I leave on Friday to go work for my Dad in Monterey. I can make more money working with him than I can at the rock yard, so I’ll be there until school starts in September.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried to call you, but you never picked up and I’m tired of leaving you messages.”

Be cool, Chrissy. He has a point, plus a little time and distance to listen to his voicemail and decide on one of those options will do you good.

“I guess I’ll see you in Monterey.”

So much for time and distance. Damn the drug!

Silent

June, 1998

I can’t believe it’s almost July, a month of reprehensible celebrations. In just a few weeks, it’ll be six months since I met Leo and three years since I married Kurt. All of it sickens me. Slutty Co-worker told me to look on the bright side though; I’ll be getting two presents instead of one. But since I’m just a misguided girl and truly not a whore at heart, I refuse to get excited about that.

Kurt decided to give me my anniversary gift early because he said I needed time to plan. Just hearing that made me exhausted. Ever since our argument about him bailing on therapy, we hardly speak, and I silently hoped he forgot about the anniversary altogether. Wishful thinking. He made reservations at a Bed & Breakfast in Napa! Hell yeah, I need time to plan! I have to plan how the hell I’m NOT gonna sleep with him, because I know that’s what this little trip is all about!

But hold on a second, I’d like to take a moment to interrupt the topic of sex and comment on the whole B&B thing. Kurt knows I hate them. Any place without a TV is
not
relaxing and should
not
be called a vacation. And on top of missing my shows, I’m gonna have to sit at a breakfast table full of carbs and make small talk with a bunch of needy losers who, on a normal day, would be the target of my overly judgmental criticisms. I mean, who are these people who feel the need to pay for meaningless breakfast conversation? Like, do they expect to learn something of great importance from the stranger sitting across the table wearing pajamas who most likely hasn’t brushed his teeth yet? I can barely tolerate myself in the morning, and yet Kurt thinks sending me to a B&B to nosh with total strangers is gonna be some kind of cathartic experience. A cathartic experience would be a legal separation. But, of course, I didn’t tell him that. How could I? He looked so excited about the gift, as he waved a winery bike tour map in my face. All I could say was “Thanks, looks fun!” Then I ran into the bathroom and cried.

Okay, back to the sex. Kurt hasn’t pestered me once about it since I started therapy, but I can tell he’s getting to the end of his rope. It’s literally been seven months since we’ve been together, and in guy time that’s gotta be like ten years. At first he bothered me about sex ALL THE TIME. But now, he’s too afraid that I’ll throw the topic of therapy at him if he touches me, so he stays away. But I have a hunch that he thinks getting me plastered in Napa will make me forget about “my problems” and I’ll put out. Well that ain’t gonna happen. It can’t happen!

Leo left for Monterey a little over a week ago and before he went, he gave me the key to his apartment so I could bring his mail inside and as he said, still be a part of him. It was a huge gesture and one that
should’ve
convinced me that I’m the only girl in his life. But it didn’t. The first thing I did when I was alone in his apartment was snoop through his drawers, and whenever the phone rang, I let it go to voicemail and then immediately called in to listen to the message. Like a handschuhschneeballwerfer, I’m still looking for unintentional reasons, like girls calling, to break things off with him. But so far every message has been from a friend or a family member. Damn his nice gestures and good intentions!

Leo’s apartment is quiet, uncluttered, and cut off from everything that gets in my way of thinking. It makes my head hurt. The first few days, after I finished ransacking the place looking for evidence of some kind of unfaithfulness, I bolted as fast as I could because the silence was painful. For months, I’ve been running as fast as I can to escape choices, responsibility, blame, and pain and my Leo drug made it easy to do that. When he was constantly at my disposal, there was never any silence in my head. I was either with him or plotting and scheming to find a way to be with him. But now that he’s hours away and working ten hours a day, there’s hardly any contact, and there’s too much silence. As I was jotting those thoughts down in my journal the other day, I decided to take a moment to read over earlier entries. What an eye opener. I thought my secret journal was going to be my place to find answers, you know…get some fucking clarity on my life. But the only thing it’s been good for is tracking lies. Flipping through the pages, it became evident that the last six months have been nothing more than a non-stop blur of semi-fake therapy, pretend marriage and compulsive cheating. The only thing my damn journal’s been good at is helping me keep up with all of it. I filled up every free minute of my life with something so that I didn’t have to think about anything. Just as I was about to rip out all of the incriminating pages and burn them, a teeny tiny light bulb went on in my teeny tiny brain. Duh…I don’t need a journal for clarity, I need silence!

So yesterday, I forced myself to be alone in Leo’s apartment for some much needed silence. I snuck out of work early, curled up in his bed, and waited for silence to sort out my problems. I lasted about five minutes before the pain kicked in. I quickly hopped up and looked for something to take my mind off of the mess I’ve created. I tried on his gigantic shirts, smelled his cologne, and drank something purple from his refrigerator. Then I paced around his bed like I didn’t trust it before I crawled back in to give silence another try. I only lasted five minutes again. The second I started thinking about telling Kurt I want a separation or telling Leo I can’t see him anymore, I’d spring out of bed and make my laps. I put myself through two hours of torture and packed on a massive headache from all the cologne sniffing before I finally acknowledged to myself that there’s no better time like the present to tell Dr. Maria about Leo. Slutty Co-worker is only enabling my addiction, my best friends want to stay as far away from it as possible, and obviously I’m incapable of curing myself. Time to call in the big guns. On my way out of Leo’s apartment, I called Dr. Maria and asked to see her right away. I had something huge to get off my chest.

It would’ve been better if I could’ve gone straight from Leo’s apartment to Dr. Maria’s office but she was booked solid. I had to wait an entire twenty-two hours to get a spot on her couch. Almost enough time to wimp out of asking her for help. I shake my head in disgust the entire drive to her office, and the closer I get, the more I decide to minimize my fanatical involvement with Leo. If she knew everything, she’d freak. I pass the apartment complex that I dropped Leo off in front of that fateful January night. I shiver as I remember the exact moment I crossed the line of inappropriate marital behavior, the moment my life got side-tracked. It was when I took off my wedding ring.

*****

January 24, 1998

“Well, it’s been fun talking to you, but I have to run to the bathroom. I guess I’ll see ya around.”

About ten minutes after I started talking to Leo, I sensibly decided to make my bladder the fun referee. I decided that when it got uncomfortably full, my fun had to end because I feared our conversation could go on all night. Thirty minutes after meeting him, as the buttons on my jeans are about to burst, I concede that it’s time to say good-bye and go back to real life.

“Aren’t you coming back?”

I hadn’t counted on that.

“Do you
want
me to?”

 “What do you think?”

I guess a few more minutes with him can’t hurt.

“Will you keep an eye on my drink then? There’s crazies out there who will do sick things to a girl’s drink.”

“How do you know I’m not one of them?”

“Good point.  I’ll ask my friend. Where do you think she and that Ho-Bag dude ran off to?”

“I’m only kidding. Your drink will be safe with me.”

“Yeah right, I know you want to slip me a drug and do unspeakable things to me.”

Good Lord, who am I right now?! I slam what’s left of my martini and strut my way to the bathroom, hoping to God he’s staring at me the entire time
and
thanking God I wore my cute butt jeans. Once inside, I lock the door, turn around, put my hands on the wet vanity, and ask myself, what the hell do you think you’re doing?

No answer.

No, really Chrissy, this is nuts. What the fuck are you doing? I don’t know, but it’s fun.

No, it’s wrong. Leave now! If you go now, you can chalk this up to innocent flirting and go back to your perfect little life. No, no, stop looking at your wedding ring. You love what that ring represents! Taking it off means you’re hiding your outward symbol of your inward love, and why would you do that?

Okay, you’re doing that. Why are you putting it in your pocket?!

I just want to see where this goes.

Where what goes
?!

I want to talk to him a while longer.

But the bar’s closing soon. Where do you plan on continuing your little conversation?

In my car, I guess.

Oh, that’s disgraceful!

Okay, wait a Goddamn minute; am I literally having an argument with myself?

Yes, you are and I think you lost…or won…or maybe it’s a tie, you big fat whore.

After a quick pee, a lipgloss refresher and a spritz of perfume, I bounce back to my barstool, leaving responsible Chrissy behind.

“Hey, I’m back. Any luck locating my friend?”

“Yeah, I saw her and Ho-Bag leave about five minutes ago. It sucks, too because he was my ride.”

“Funny, I was hers.”

If there was ever an awkward pause, this was it.

“So Leo, if I offer to take you to wherever your car is, you’re not gonna kill me or anything are you?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Then, like a bodyguard, he grabs hold of my hand and leads me out of the crowded bar.

I wonder how far he thinks things are gonna go. More than that, I wonder how far I’m gonna let things go. I feel intermittent twinges of guilt that almost prompt me to run but they’re immediately overridden by blows of excitement that compel me to stay. And I do. Right there in the Buckley’s parking lot, all cozy in my car, we talk about all the taboo things people typically don’t discuss when they first meet. Stuff like how many kids we want, our political party affiliation, religion, places we want to visit, people we hate…the list goes on and on. It’s like we can’t get enough of each other’s mind. It scares me to think of what we’re capable of doing to each other’s body.

“Wow, this is a match made in Heaven Leo. I don’t think there are many people outside of this car we can admit this stuff to!”

“It’s a match as long as you don’t have any tattoos.”

“Come on! Do I look like a girl who would get a tramp stamp? Please tell me you don’t have one either.”

“Hell no. A few of my brothers have them, they’re all a result of some drunken night. They’re like old girlfriend’s names or frat symbols or something disturbing like that. They wear them like they’re some kind of badge of honor. I can’t wait to see how those things look twenty years from now.”

“Do you see your brothers often?”

“I saw them a few weeks ago on Christmas. Man, I hate the holidays.”

“C’mon, who doesn’t love Christmas?”

“You’re looking at him.”

“Wow, the first thing we disagree on. But you know what? I bet you’d like Christmas with me.”

Why did I just say that? I can’t celebrate tomorrow with him let alone next Christmas.

“Holidays with my family used to be somewhat tolerable because my Grandpa was such an awesome guy to be around. But since he died, I come up with every excuse possible to avoid them. My family drives me crazy.”

As refreshing as it is to hear Leo acknowledge the one thing I’ve wanted my husband to acknowledge for over a decade, and as much as I want him to tell me more, I can’t help but notice the sky going from black to a blurry shade of yellow.