The Life List (The List Trilogy) (6 page)

“Uhhhh… .Earth to Chrissy! We don’t have our driver’s licenses yet! Shit, we don’t even have a car, you fool!”

“We do now. I told my brother I forgot my bio book in his car.” I take the keys out of my pocket and dangle them in front of Courtney’s face, as Kelly grabs her arm to drag her to the parking lot.

“It’s no biggie! Kelly’s almost done with drivers-ed, she knows what to do!”

“No way! Besides, I’m still grounded from the vodka that
CHRISSY
put in my hair spray bottle.”

“Well, you’re the dummy who let your mom borrow your hair spray!”

“Amen to that Kelly. C’mon though Court… you have to admit it’s a genius way to get buzzed at the movies. A little spritz here and a little spritz there and voila!”

“Yeah Chrissy, you’re a rocket scientist. You and your genius ideas already have me grounded for the rest of my life. “

“Please come, Courtney, it won’t be the same without you. Please, please, please!”

“No way! Later.”

Five minutes later, with Kelly in the driver’s seat, we’re cruising down

Fremont Blvd. having the time of our lives with hamburgers and fried zucchini from Carl’s Jr. Ten minutes later, we get pulled over by a cop. An hour later, we’re sitting in the principal’s office, and thirty minutes after that our parents arrive to beat the crap out of us.

April, 1986

“I wanna wait outside of Kurt Gibbons’ house and follow him when he goes out.”

They’re staring at me like I’m a total stalker freak.

“
What
!? You asked what I wanted to do tonight, and that’s what I wanna do!

Can you three think of anything better?”

Obviously not, because fifteen minutes later we’re filling up Kelly’s tank at the Gas-n-Go in preparation for “Operation KG.”  Just as the three of them are piling back into the car, I run out of the bathroom and breathlessly tell them the greatest news ever.

“Omigod, you guys, there’s cases and cases of beer just sitting in there!”

“So?”

“What do you mean so?! Let’s drink some of it! How the hell will they know who took it?”

“Omigod, that’s such a good idea, Chrissy!” Nicole always has my back when it comes to alcohol consumption.

Before Courtney can talk us out of the plan, Nicole and I yank her into the bathroom, while Kelly parks the car. Once she arrives, we let her in, lock the door, and immediately get to work on the beer, laughing and burping like sweet little sixteen-year-olds do. After slamming beer number two, there’s a loud bang on the door.

“Hey ladies, you don’t think we have cameras in there? When you get out, I want to see some driver’s licenses and some cash.”

After contemplating making a run for it, we give ourselves up to Aabdar Muhammed Abdallah who, after taking a quick glance at our licenses, calls our parents. That was the end of anyone driving anywhere for a month.

May 1987

“Ahhhh…C’mon guys, this could be the last really stupid thing we do together before we go to college.”

“Chrissy, I’m NOT hopping on a plane to go to Los Angeles to be on
The Price is Right
! You’ve had a lot of stupid ideas, but that’s the stupidest one by far!”

“Shut up, Court, it’ll be fun! Think about it. We’ll leave Sunday night and fly home Monday after the taping of the show. We might get caught for skipping school on Monday, but who cares? We graduate in like three weeks! Seriously, what could possibly go wrong?”

It took thirty minutes to talk Courtney into the idea and ten minutes to plot out what we were gonna tell our parents.

Once we got the logistics worked out, we booked the flight and flew ourselves to Los Angeles. It took seven busses (because none of us had ever been on a bus before or knew how to read a bus schedule) to get to Bob Barker’s hood.

“This is totally awesome you guys! I can’t believe we’re in Studio City waiting in line to get into
The Price is Right
!”

“Not awesome at all, Chrissy. That motel we stayed in last night was totally bogus. I swear I heard gun shots. And tell me again why we’re all wearing your brother’s Santa Clara University sweatshirts?”

Nic, Kelly, and I roll our eyes and shake our heads at Courtney’s lack of familiarity with one of the most rudimentary tactics of how to get picked as a contestant on
The Price is Right
. Tediously, I answer her.

“Duh, Court,
everyone
knows Bob Barker likes to pick people wearing college gear. If you’d put down your text books and pick up a remote control every once in a while, you’d know that.”

After giving bogus answers to a few basic questions by someone wearing a massive headset, we put our fake name-tags on our fake sweatshirts and take our seats.

“Any of you brainiacs thought about what would happen if one of our names gets called?”

“Right, like that’s ever gonna happen, Court.” But then I look at Kelly and mouth the words, “I hope not.”  She mouths back a very concerned, “Shit.”

“Look you guys, it’s starting!”

“MILFRED SMITH, COME ON DOWN!” “THOMAS DANIELS, COME ON DOWN!

“BETSY CLARK, COME ON DOWN! YOU’RE THE NEXT

CONTESTANT ON
THE PRICE IS RIGHT
!”

“Holy fucking shit, he just said my name!”

“
Seriously,
Nicole, you picked the name Betsy? That’s a really stupid name!” “God Chrissy, who the hell cares what name she used! Run down there

Nicole! Go! Go! Go!”

“BETSY CLARK, COME ON DOWN!”

“Are you crazy, Kelly? I can’t go. MY MOM WATCHES THIS SHOW! What if I win the showcase showdown or something? What happens if I win a friggin’ camper? I’m outta here.”

Just like that, Nicole runs out of a set of double doors marked EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY and sets off the alarm. The rest of us are immediately asked to leave. As we make our exit, we’re hit hard with thunderous boos and hisses of crazy
Price Is Right
fanatics. Who knew lovers of such wonderful things like Bob Barker, Plinko, and Triple Play could be so mean.

*****

A piece of break hits me in the face and I’m brought back from the past.

“Hey, blondie, you gonna join in this conversation or what?”

“Yeah Chrissy, what’s going on with you? Normally we can’t get you to shut up!”

“Yo, Barbie! Tell us what you’re thinking.”

Now the three of them start to throw bread at me.

“Sorry about that.  I’ve got a lot of work stuff on my mind.”

Kelly strokes my hair and gives me one of her famous backhanded compliments. “Look at you, little Miss responsible! Who woulda thought our little mess of a girl would end up so together.”

As if on cue, Nicole interjects with one of her famous sarcastic sex comments. “Work shmirk! Kurt gets home tonight. Someone’s thinkin’ about getting lucky!”

Responsible and lucky my ass. The cluster fuck queen is back in business like it’s 1987 all over again.

After I promise to love you forever

What happens to us if I fail?

I fear that my heart is a wavering thing and

I’m scared that your heart is frail

Do I give up and just let go

Or remain, I don’t know

(About Me, Keri Noble)

Existing

January, 1998

It’s a somewhat normal Wednesday morning except our separate alarms go off two hours apart. I’m already exercised, showered, and dressed by the time Kurt strolls into the kitchen. He should be curious by this because I’m
never
awake earlier than he is. Yesterday and today I got up at the crack of dawn to run up and down the trail. The funny thing about that is that I’m not a runner! Despite my husband’s decade long suggestion that I take it up, it wasn’t until I hung up the phone with Leo that I starting running. I can’t figure out if I’m running towards something or away from something. Either way, I kinda like it.

It was awful when Kurt arrived home last night. I had hoped to be asleep before he walked through the door, but he pulled into the driveway a few minutes after I got home from dinner. I’ve probably kissed Kurt’s lips a million times before. He has one of the most beautiful mouths in the world and when he smiles, clouds part in the sky, bluebirds sing, and there’s no pain or suffering in the world. It’s just that enchanting. But when I kissed his lips last night, they had lost their magic and I wondered, had it been like that for a long time or was it because I had experienced Leo’s kiss? We wandered into the kitchen and made small talk about his trip and my weekend. He unpacked, and I changed into my pajamas in the bathroom. Another thing he should’ve thought was curious, but still he said nothing. We settled in the family room to watch the 11 o’clock news, and I pretended to fall asleep on the couch where fortunately, he left me. Even before Saturday’s escapade with Leo, things were tense between us, but not “slept on the couch” tense.

I used to try to talk to Kurt about what’s bothering me in the relationship, but he just got annoyed with what he calls my “constant complaining.”  One day he even went so far as to bring home a bottle of St. John’s Wort, in effect, making me the sole owner of turning my frown upside down. He’d rather I drug my bad attitude, than explain why I have it. But, I’m sorry…it’s gonna take a lot more than a couple of sugar pills to numb my feelings.

A few months ago, Kurt invested ten thousand of
our
dollars in a crap shoot stock without consulting me. Obviously, when I noticed the money missing from our savings account, I immediately questioned him. Instead of being apologetic, he got defensive and said “If I asked you for permission you would’ve said no,” as if that’s justification for not talking to me about it! It’s about as insane as me saying, “If I asked you if I could have phone sex with a guy I met in a bar, you would’ve said no.” Give me a break!

The other thing he doesn’t want me to “complain” about is all of his business trips that extend into long vacations involving some kind of an extreme sport. Kurt’s an adventurous guy, and I’ve been
mostly
supportive of what I think are totally stupid hobbies. But he’s missed a lot of important occasions in my life- friend’s weddings and grandparent’s funerals- just so he could go motorcycle riding or hang gliding. Often times, okay
all the time
, I find myself making excuses. I say things like “Kurt just couldn’t break away from the conference in Vermont,” when he’s really snowshoeing, or “Kurt wishes so badly he could be with us today, but he’s so busy at the office,” when he’s really indoor rock climbing. Everyone’s dopey look of admiration for his imaginary work ethic has slowly taken a toll on me. All the lying makes him seem conscientious and me supportive, but in reality he’s super selfish and I’m truly pathetic. What hurts the most though is that Kurt doesn’t care that I’m always alone, and he
hates
that I lie about where he is. He’s not apologetic or ashamed of how he prefers to spend his time, and it’s like a straight shot to my heart. Yeah, I’m
pretty
sure he wants me to pop the St. John’s Wort so I don’t bring up that stuff anymore. But I’m
mostly
sure it’s because he doesn’t want me to bring up what happened last October.

Kurt and I have been together twelve years, and we’ve worked super hard for everything we have together. After college when most of our friends were renting apartments and partying every night of the week, we moved back home to save money to buy a house, which we did when I was only twenty-three. Right on time! I can’t remember what felt better, when our agent called to tell us our offer was accepted or when I crossed that accomplishment off of my life list. Whenever Kurt and I do show up somewhere together, we’re the couple who gets the party started and the ones who stay to help clean up. We’re the friends you call when you need help moving and everyone’s first choice to be their first-born’s Godparents. If I had a dime for every time someone called us Ken & Barbie, I could’ve afforded the Range Rover instead of the Land Rover. We hit the ground running the day after college and we’ve been sprinting ever since. As I stare at him pouring milk into his cereal bowl without taking his eyes off of the newspaper, I wonder when we started going in opposite directions. I
think
it might’ve been when we bought the
house
we live in now.

Kurt didn’t want to move to Danville. He said, “Too white and too rich, are those really the kind of people you want to raise kids around?”

I’m sorry, but when did it become so terrible to be around people who are too white and too rich?! Those are the two things I strive to be the very best at, and I’m already fifty percent of the way toward reaching my goal! But, he’d be mortified if I admitted money meant that much to me, so I sold him on the stellar public schools and how much money we’ll
save
by sending our kids to one of them instead of the private school they’ll have to attend if we move to the miserable city of his choice. In the end, I got what I wanted, and even though he LOVES it here, he reminds me of his sacrifice all the time. If you ask me, I don’t think that’s how a married Ken & Barbie should act.

Since we moved to Danville six months ago, our relationship has gone from a somewhat harmonious shade of grey, to completely detached smudges of black and white. Given Kurt’s sensitivity to the racial demographics of Danville, I’ll claim the white smudge and he can be the black one. Either way, it’s clear we’re different colors moving farther away from each other as each day passes. My complaining has a lot to do with our distance, but I’m also convinced my dreams put too much pressure on Kurt, and it’s causing huge rifts in our relationship. For example, and this might seem stupid, but I’ve always dreamed of owning a Porsche. I would look RIDICULOUS in one of those things! But Kurt, who by the way ohhhhhs and ahhhhhs over every single Porsche he sees, calls me materialistic for wanting one. It’s a head scratcher. He also flips out whenever I mention being a stay-at-home mom once we have kids. He says, “Why should I have to be the
only one
supporting the family?” As if a stay-at-home mom isn’t a supporting role! For a while, I tried to tenderly explain to him that I want the white picket fence, the kids, soccer games, and pool parties. But my pretty pictures of domestic bliss were always met with a snicker and a look of repulsion. He’d say things like, “Sounds nice but who’s gonna make that happen for me?” I could never find an answer to that, so I stopped “complaining” and started popping St. John’s Wort like they were tic-tacs. And I also keep moving my white smudge farther away from his black one.