The Life List (The List Trilogy) (9 page)

“Maybe you had your eye on the prize rather than on what you were actually winning.”

“Maybe you’re right. But there are wonderful things about Kurt too.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of wonderful things about him just like there are plenty of wonderful things about you. And initially all of those wonderful things are what attracted you to each other, but maybe you two were always on separate paths.”

“Are you saying we should give up on each other? Because I don’t want to give up on him.”

“Not at all. Any marriage can be repaired if both people want to fix it and conversely, any marriage can end if both people agree they made a mistake.”

“I don’t want my marriage to be a mistake. I wanna share my dreams with Kurt and have him share back. I wanna feel close to him. I wanna have the kind of marriage with him that I always dreamt of: intimate, special, nurturing. Can you help me with all of that?”

“I’m going to do my best to help the two of you get what you need.”

“Gosh, Dr. Maria, so many thoughts are stacked in my head, I can’t make sense out of anything anymore.”

“You know what happens when too much gets stacked in our heads?”

“Yeah, we cheat on our husbands.”

I got a slight smile out of her on that one.

“Not necessarily, but it’s safe to say that one would eventually go nuts if they kept all of their true feelings and thoughts to themselves, never feeling safe from harassment for being authentic.  It would make for a very lonely world right?”

“Very lonely.”

“Tell me, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m the Vice President of a clothing company.”

“Wow, so young to have such a big job.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Do you like your job?”

“On the one hand, I love what I do because I’m good at it. But on the other hand, I resent my career because of how demanding it is. It’ll never allow me to be what I’d like to be.”

“What’s that?”

“A mom. And if time permitted and it didn’t take away from my family, I imagined having a job that felt more like a hobby, like an interior decorator or a writer or something. I feel like I have something creative in me that’s dying to get out. It sounds very spoiled and stupid, I know.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all. Tell me, what’s your relationship like with the people at work?”

“They probably don’t like me very much. I’m tough. But they ask for my advice a lot, so I take that as a sign of respect. I enjoy helping them solve their problems, and I think I’m pretty good at it.”

“Does Kurt mingle with the people you work with?”

“Oh no, no, no. He wouldn’t like who I am around them.”

“Explain that to me.”

“I don’t know if I can. I’m not sure I understand it myself.”

“You just got done telling me you’re good at what you do and you enjoy helping the people you work with, but
then
you say your husband wouldn’t like you in that environment. Why?”

“I guess he would think I was too controlling. He wouldn’t like my dark sense of humor my abrasiveness…uh, my high standards. I don’t let people hold me back. He doesn’t like those things at home so why would he like them there?”

“Do you think Kurt’s holding you back?”

She got me with this one. I wanna defend him,
us
, so badly, but after everything I just said, how can I?

“I don’t know. Obviously I don’t know anything anymore. Why else would I act the way I did on Saturday? I just wanna be a real team with Kurt, not the team everyone thinks we are.”

“Does it matter to you what people think?”

“Definitely not at work, but outside of it, I would have to say, yes.”

Jesus, solve my current dilemma already! I don’t need the full monty life analysis of Chrissy. Just tell me I’m a bad, bad girl for cheating on my husband, then tell me how to bury the guilt and move on with the life I’ve spent the last twelve fucking years creating!

“How would it feel to be how you are at work around your husband?”

I chuckle a little. “Liberating and impossible all at the same time.”

“Why is it impossible?”

“It just is.”

“But why do you think that?”

“I’d be too much for him to tolerate. I’d be opinionated and strong-minded. He’d be mad at me ALL THE TIME!”

“He’d be mad at you for being authentic, for being
you
?”

“Yep.”

“Chrissy, how can you be on a
real
team with Kurt when you’re not
real
with him?”

I hate her. As if she knows, she changes the subject.

“What’s your relationship like with your parents?” I’m getting a little uptight now.

“Fine.”

“How do you think they’d react to what you did on Saturday?”

“They’d probably expect I’d screw up sooner or later.”

“Any close friends?”

“Yeah, my best friends from high school: Courtney, Kelly, and Nicole.

Kurt’s also good friends with their husbands. We do a lot together.”

“How would they react to what you did on Saturday night?”

“They’d be confused because they think Kurt and I are perfect.”

“Have you thought about confiding in them?”

“No way.”

“Do you think their relationship with him is more important to them than their relationship with you?”

“Of course not, they love me like I’m their sister! I just can’t tell them. Nobody can know about this.”

She’s compassionately nodding her head; she can sense I’m on the brink of a meltdown. I have an overwhelming feeling that I’m fucked.

“Chrissy, you did really well today, but I’d like to set up another appointment for next week. Will that work for you?”

I did really well today
????? We didn’t accomplish a damn thing! I gotta leave here with unresolved issues? What the hell?!?!?!?!?

“Sure, next week sounds good.” I’m such a pathetic pleaser.

“Good. I’d like to talk about your family a little bit more. Would that be alright with you?”

I give her an exasperated “Sure.”

“Hunny, therapy’s a marathon, not a sprint. I can tell you’re a fine young woman and I want to help you, but in order to do that I have to learn a lot more about you. My hope is that you will also learn a lot about yourself. You
will
find the answers you need in this process and you
will
be okay. Just give it some time.”

“I hear what you’re saying, Dr. Maria, but what if I slip again? What if I cave into the urge to call Leo? I can’t get him off of my mind.”

“That’s a tough one.”

Jesus, what good are you people
?

“But, what I can tell you is that you should do whatever feels right to you. Yes, you made a vow to your husband, and I know it’s killing you that you broke it, but Chrissy your first commitment is to yourself. If you’re not happy you will
never
make another living soul happy. I’m not condoning adultery, but I’m also not condoning a miserable existence. That being said, I would hate to see you compound the guilt you’re already feeling. So it would be best to resist the urge to contact Leo until you know what you’d be contacting him for. Do you think you’ll be okay until we meet next week?”

What am I thinking? I’m here to fix my marriage; of course I can make it a week.
I have to make it a week
. I nod my head yes like it’s no biggie, but the hole in my heart that’s flashing a big neon vacancy sign says otherwise.

I was thinking if you were lonely

Maybe we could leave here and no one would know

At least not to the point that we would think so

Everyone here, knows everyone here is thinking about

Somebody else

(Back 2 Good/Matchbox 20)

Daydreamer

February, 1998

It’s too early to tell if Dr. Maria will be able to help me, but for now it’s nice to know that I can say Leo’s name out loud to someone. I felt kinda normal for about a day after meeting with her, but then yesterday I was back in la la land, fantasizing about the night I met him and resisting every urge to pick up the phone and call him.

As much as I’d like to sit around and daydream about Leo all day, I’ve got to put thoughts of him aside for a couple of hours and focus on my job. I have a company to run. Lord knows the owner can’t do it. For the first time in a long time I’m grateful for my stress-filled job. The busier I am these days, the better.

Today started off with a 7am conference call with a pissed off distribution manager from the East Coast. That was fun; nothing like being called a bitch and a liar before I’ve had my morning coffee. I hung up the phone just in time for the 9am production meeting where I had to break up a fight between the head designer and the production manager. Thank God I got there in time because the New York Jewish American Princess designer was about to get her ass handed to her by the short-tempered Hong King Kong production manager. A typical conversation between the two of them goes something like this:

J.A.P.: Why can’t you get my fabwik samples hea by next week?

H.K.K.: I tell you million times HELLS NO! They come from China! It not happen on such short notice.

J.A.P.: Well din it’s yoa fuggin’ fault I can’t meet my deadline!

H.K.K.: HELLS NO it not my fault! It your own damn fault you not give me request on time!

J.A.P.: Chrissy, can’t you do somedin bout’ this?!

I want to say hell’s no, but I can’t because it’s my job to do something about
everything
. I instruct H.K.K. to overnight the samples so that we can get the fall line done in time for March market, but not before I scare the crap out of J.A.P. by telling her I’m deducting the cost of the air shipment from her next paycheck. I end the production meeting just in time to grab a non-fat vanilla latte before my drive out to the most disgusting part of San Francisco. I have an 11am meeting with one of our factory owners. I love Mr. Yee, but I can only understand every other word that comes out of his mouth.

“Ahhhhhh Kwissy, so good meeting today! We always do good wuk fo you, yes?”

It’s so hard to not stare at the long wire like hairs protruding out of the mole on his right cheek. Don’t even get me started on the long pinky fingernails either. Nasty! Mr. Yee is a sweet man, and I hate to be so critical of him, but doesn’t he see what the rest of us see?

“Yeah, yeah, but remember, you have to get those cartons on the truck by 5pm or the shipment’s gonna be late…AGAIN! I’m sick and tired of driving over the Bay Bridge to make sure your people are meeting the deadlines. Got that?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Kwissy. You woowy too much! Why you leave so fast? You wan stay fo lun?”

Oh Lordy, I’m gonna take a stab at this and guess it’s an invitation for lunch…

“Not today Mr. Yee.”

Not EVER, for that matter! The sewing ladies are taking a break from their machines, but they don’t spend their down time buying mochas at Starbucks or running over to Tower Records to pick up the new Matchbox 20 CD.
Noooooooo
, they’re ripping the feathers off of a dead chicken and preparing to plop it into the thousand-year-old pot that’s boiling away in the make-shift kitchen crammed into the back of the factory. It’s like this in every factory I’ve been in, all the way from here to Hong Kong. It’s a wonder to me that most articles of clothing hanging in department stores don’t smell more like poultry.

“Heh! Heh! Heh! Kwissy you na no what you miss! Do’h woowy bout chipmen. We get on twuck soopa fas!”

I have no fucking idea what he just said, but he’s smiling, so I’m smiling. Seriously, I can only say “What?” to this guy so many times.

I hop on the freight elevator and say my usual “Hi, how’s it going?” to the sick fuck whose injecting God knows what into his arm. For a brief second I want to ask him what he thinks is worse, drugs or adultery? But I’m pretty sure I know the answer, plus I don’t want to die, so I pass on the opportunity and run out to my car, which thankfully is not stolen and still has all of its windows intact.

It’s an absolutely beautiful day in San Francisco. One of those freakishly warm winter days when you get a hint of what spring is gonna feel like. Instead of cutting over to 5th Street to hop on Interstate 80 for a quick return to the office, I head up Van Ness and tool around California and Bush Streets. It’s a longer route to the Bay Bridge, but I like the vibe of the financial district; everyone looks so confident and successful, like they’re kicking life’s ass. And one day, if everything goes according to his plan, Leo will be walking amongst them.

It takes about thirty minutes to drive three miles, and I savor the respite from the world. I daydream about last Saturday. I was only supposed to grab some sushi with a friend from work who I lovingly refer to as Slutty Co-worker. I’ve worked with her for years, and she’s a great gal with a big ol’ heart but trust me, her nickname says it all. I planned on staying in on Saturday night for some much needed rest. Kurt was out of town and I looked forward to a night at home to relax how I want to relax, eat what I want to eat, and just be how I want to be. But, after a beyond shitty phone conversation with Kurt, Slutty Co-worker forced me to go out to dinner so she could cheer me up. Then, after that, she begged me to hit up Buckley’s, her favorite dive bar. Even though I detest bars, I didn’t protest because it’s actually pretty entertaining to watch her work a bar crowd. Sure enough, within fifteen minutes, she left me all alone to run off and have a smoke with the first cute guy who approached her. To occupy my time until her return, I ordered a martini and eavesdropped on the odd conversation the guy sitting next to me was having with his lively Korean friend who he lovingly referred to as Ho-Bag.

*****

January 24, 1998

“I’m telling you ghosts exist, dude. You think all that paranormal shit is made up?”

“Uhhhhhh, yeah man, I do.”

“Alright then, what about what happened at my grandparents’ house last month? I went to bed with the hallway light off, and the last thought I had before I fell asleep was that my grandfather always kept that
same
light on. It helped him find his way to the kitchen in the middle of the night. How do you explain it being on when I woke up at three o’clock in the morning? Huh? Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say, Ho-bag. Nothin’! What’s up my little Korean friend, you didn’t eat the cat before it ate your tongue?”