So I wouldn’t be too late, I started handing out a few at a time. By seven o’clock when the party was officially under way, I’d had only two winners: ten dollars and sixty dollars. The ten-dollar winner said, “Hey, thanks, this ought to be good for a couple packs of smokes,” and the sixty-dollar winner was excited, but—as her engagement ring looked as if it had cost about sixty thousand—I doubted that it would be exactly life-changing.
Clutching the last ticket, I headed to my bus stop. There was a woman standing there in filthy clothes and missing several teeth—precisely what I’d been hoping for. Even if she won a small amount, it could be enough to have an impact.
“Hi,” I chirped. “I’ve got this lottery ticket to give you.”
She sneered at me. “What for? Is this a trick?”
“No. Here—” And I handed it over. She started to tuck it in her cleavage, and I said, “Please scratch it off now. I need to see if it’s a winner.”
“I ain’t got a coin.”
I dug through my purse and handed her a nickel.
“Quarters work better,” she said slyly.
I kept digging until I found a quarter, then held my breath as she scratched off the card.
Nothing.
Disappointment rose like bile. I must’ve looked stricken, because she said, “Girlie, it ain’t no big deal.”
“I know. But if it’d been a winner, maybe it would have made a difference in your life. I’d like to have done that.”
“You want to make a difference in my life?”
“Desperately.”
She gave me a slow once-over. “Them shoes of yours look comfy. Mine pinch my feet something awful. I’ll bet anything if you gave me them shoes, that’d make a big difference.”
My shoes? I was about to scoff when I thought, What the heck. I slipped off my shoes, a hundred-and-twenty-dollar pair I’d recently splurged on at Macy’s.
She took them, and without a thank-you or so much as a word otherwise, she left. I stood at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive. Maybe tomorrow, after a night’s sleep, I could come up with another way to change someone’s life. I decided right there that I wasn’t going to give the list back until it was done. I’d go to the party and face everyone as a loser. But, hey, at least I’d tried.
The thought of which left me utterly thunderstruck.
I’d tried.
I’d failed. I’d picked myself up, dusted myself off, and tried again. Me!
Of course—that was it!
A horn honked nearby, tugging me from my thoughts.
“Hey!” It was Martucci, calling to me through the rolled-down passenger window of his Mercedes. “Get in, you nut job! I’ll give you a ride.”
I ran over and climbed into the passenger seat—and mmm, the fragrance of real Corinthian leather sure beat the smell of your average city bus stop. Martucci chuckled as he shifted into gear. “I’d ask why you were standing there in your socks, but I’m not sure I want to know.”
Chapter 25
20 Things to Do by My 25th Birthday
1. Lose 100 pounds
2. Kiss a stranger
3. Change someone’s life
4. Wear sexy shoes
5. Run a 5K
6. Dare to go braless
7. Make Buddy Fitch pay
8. Be the hottest girl at Oasis
9. Get on TV
10. Ride in a helicopter
11. Pitch an idea at work
12. Try boogie boarding
13. Eat ice cream in public
14. Go on a blind date
15. Take Mom and Grandma to see Wayne Newton
16. Get a massage
17. Throw away my bathroom scale
18. Watch a sunrise
19. Show my brother how grateful I am for him
20. Make a big donation to charity
The private room at Oasis was packed. People sat at cocktail tables and stood around holding drinks and plates of food. When Martucci and I walked in, a woman named Norma—I remembered her as the Weight Watchers leader who’d given Marissa her lifetime pin the night she died—was near the bar, in the midst of telling a story into a handheld microphone. The fact that it ended with, “And from that day forward, every woman in the group practically stripped naked before weighing in”—followed by a roar of laughter from the crowd—gave me an indication of the overall mood. It was, as Kitty Jones had hoped, a party.
We grabbed beers from a bartender near the back and then made our way to the table where Susan and Brie sat with Sebastian and Kip.
“I was starting to worry you weren’t coming,” Susan said, pulling purses off a couple of chairs she’d been saving. “What happened to your shoes?”
“Don’t ask.”
As I sat down, Troy relieved Norma of the microphone. He was in jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair recently cut—but it didn’t incite lust in me as much as it made me want to pinch his cheeks.
“Anybody else who wants to share,” Troy said, “feel free to come on up.” He held out the microphone.
Brie gave me a nudge. “Go up there.”
A girl trotted to the microphone, buying me time. She introduced herself as a school friend of Marissa’s and started to tell a story about how she and Marissa used to pass notes in algebra class.
“June doesn’t have to talk if she doesn’t want to,” Susan said quietly to everyone at the table, as if I weren’t there.
“The fact that she showed up is plenty,” Sebastian agreed.
Martucci took a swig of his beer. “Of course she should talk. She’s the reason they’re having this party in the first place.”
“I am not!” I hissed. As if I needed that kind of pressure! “They’re having it because Marissa wrote a list to be completed by her twenty-fifth birthday…which, by the way, it isn’t. Completed, that is.”
Brie shook her head. “Eighteen down, two left to go. What a shame.”
“Actually,” I said, unable to suppress a proud smile, “only one left to go.”
“You found Buddy Fitch?” Sebastian said, excited enough that he forgot to whisper. A few heads turned our way, and I shushed him.
“No, I still have to do that one.”
“Then what—? How—? I mean, I thought…”
As Sebastian flustered, Brie took the opportunity to elbow me. “Your man, Troy, is looking mighty fine.”
“The brother?” Kip asked. “You’ve got something going on with the brother?”
“That’s dishy,” Sebastian said with obvious interest.
“There’s nothing between Troy and me.”
“At least not yet,” Brie taunted. “The night is young.”
“Yeah,” Martucci piped up, a little roughly even for him. “Now that you’re not going to adopt a baby, he’ll probably be interested again.”
Susan grunted in disgust on my behalf. “Leave her alone.”
“It’s not what you think,” I said, wanting to clarify, and for some reason I turned to Martucci. “He’s just messed up about losing his sister—they were close. I kind of feel sorry for him.”
“Did I miss something?” Susan asked. “Are you and Troy a thing?”
“Nah,” I said. Troy had again taken the microphone and was holding it out for whoever might speak next. “He’s a nice guy,” I said, rising from the table. “But to be honest, he’s not my type.”
I claimed the microphone from Troy, who gave me a brief kiss on the cheek before going back to stand near his family. I blew out a breath, trying to calm my nerves, and then faced the crowd of sixty or so people. I hadn’t written a speech. Sure, I’d given it plenty of times in my imagination—but when I had, it was always about finishing the list. The speech I’d mentally rehearsed over and over was one of triumph—the list a wrapped gift I’d present to a grieving family. I was going to have to wing this one.
“Hi, I’m June Parker,” I said, surveying the room. I recognized faces from the funeral, although that day n
ow seemed a lifetime ago. “As some of you may know, I was the one who was in the car accident with Marissa. What you may not know is that I discovered that Marissa had written a very special list. On it were twenty things she planned to do by her birthday…today.” I paused, and there was a murmur from the crowd. This was news to most, I could tell.
“In honor of Marissa’s memory, I set out to complete the list. She already had crossed off two of the tasks herself. One of them was to lose a hundred pounds, a goal she reached and, as I understand, was very proud of. Luckily for me, not all the tasks were so challenging. The other one that Marissa did on her own was to wear a pair of great, sexy shoes…” I smiled, glancing down at my stocking feet. “Which was too bad, because I wouldn’t have minded doing that one myself.”
That received a few chuckles, and I gazed out into a sea of smiling, open faces. This was not going to be a tough crowd by any means; they were eager to hear how Marissa’s dreams came true. I only hoped my unsuccessful attempt wouldn’t disappoint them too much.
“I didn’t have a chance to get to know Marissa,” I continued. “The Marissa I’m familiar with is the one who wrote the list, and from it, I know she must have been an amazing person.”
There were several nods to that.
Not sure what to say next, I asked, “I suppose you want to know what was on the list?”
A smattering of applause and a chorus of “Yeah!” answered me.
“Let’s see…,” I said, starting to loosen up. “There was trying boogie boarding. Getting a massage. Going on a blind date. Making a big donation to charity. Taking her mom and grandma”—I glanced over to where the family sat, and Kitty gave me a wink—“to see the great Wayne Newton in concert.” That got an “Awwww…” and some applause, and I scanned my brain for the others. Even though the list had been such a huge part of the last year of my life, I was having a rough time recalling everything.
“There were more,” I said, “but I want to tell you about the most important one…the one that I believe was even bigger to Marissa than losing the weight. She’d written on her list that she wanted to change someone’s life. Those of you who were close to Marissa probably realize how that would have been dear to her heart. Everyone tells me what a giving person she was.
“So I set out to try to change someone’s life—which I’m sure you can agree is no small order. I wanted to do something special, and I thought I had the right thing. I’d managed to find a way to help a family desperate for a baby to adopt one from a teenage girl who couldn’t keep her baby herself. Only…” I realized I was getting far more personal than I’d intended to, and I was having a difficult time choking out the words. “It didn’t work out. The girl kept the baby, and the couple…well, they’re still childless.”
I caught the eye of an elderly woman who had that deer-in-the-headlights look of someone who senses a speech is about to veer into a very ugly direction. I figured I’d better cut to the chase. “And yet changing someone’s life is still crossed off the list. To explain why, I’ll have to tell you something I’m not exactly thrilled to admit. Because the truth is, before I started doing this list, I hadn’t made much of my own life. In fact, a person who in recent months has become a very close friend—someone who has been there when I needed him and whose opinion I’ve grown to truly value and respect—said he always felt I was just going through the motions. As much as I hated to hear it, he was right.
“Part of the reason I did the list was so I could feel what it was like to have purpose and direction the way Marissa did. I had no idea whether I’d finish it, and I’ll have to confess right now that I didn’t. There’s one item I still have to do. But that’s the point I’m trying to make. On my way over here, I was still trying to finish the list. Even though I hadn’t completed it on time, I wasn’t going to give up.”
The last few words came out as a squeak. Tears welled in my eyes. I heard Kitty say, “You’re doing fine, sweetie.”
My voice quavering, I said, “What I realized is that I didn’t need to change anyone’s life. Because Marissa changed mine. She’s taught me what it means to value life. To try. To put myself out there for something that’s important to me.
“I’d hoped to come here tonight to tell you about what I’d done for Marissa…but the best I can do is say how truly grateful I am for all she’s given me. I’ll never forget it. And I’ll never, ever take it for granted.”
With that, I set down the microphone and padded back to my seat with the crowd cheering and whooping. Susan greeted me with one of her bone-crushing hugs, and Sebastian and Kip were both sobbing.
“Best fucking speech I ever heard,” Martucci said, using his thumb to wipe a tear from my face.
Brie said, snuffling, “That’s it, I’m going to do me a list.”
A guy bearing bagpipes who said he was in the marching corps with Marissa came to the front of the room, saying he wanted to play her favorite song, “Amazing Grace.” We listened attentively because, frankly, it’s hard to have a conversation with bagpipes blaring. After he finished, and not getting any more takers on the microphone, Troy thanked people for coming. “Please stick around,” he announced. “There’s still a ton of food. Plus, we’ll be cutting the cake soon.”
The jukebox kicked on as Norma came up to the table. She was eating a piece of pie. Considering she was a Weight Watchers leader, I admired how she didn’t feel the need to apologize for it.
“Well done on finishing the list,” she said.
I corrected her. “Almost finishing it.”
“Ah. Close enough. I’m sorry you never came back to the group, but you look good. Thin.”
“It was the I’m-too-depressed-to-eat diet,” I said.
Brie shook her head. “I wish that would happen to me. I eat when I get upset. And when I get mad. Or stressed. Or if I’m happy. I eat then, too.”
Norma swallowed a bite of her pie, then said, “I hear you there. And Marissa dying so soon after she lost the weight—it was so sad. The group took it pretty hard. We had a couple meetings that were less about food and more about the process of grieving. Poor Buddy took it the hardest. He—”
I nearly choked on my drink. “Did you say Buddy?”
Sebastian glanced up. “Who said Buddy?”
“I did,” Norma said, clearly startled. “I was telling June how Buddy took Marissa’s death especially hard. He’s in my Weight Watchers group, and he and Marissa were quite—”
Sebastian cut her off. “His name isn’t Buddy Fitch by chance, is it?”
“I do believe his last name is Fitch. Why—do you know him?”
I couldn’t believe it. I’d been searching everywhere for this guy, and I never thought that he might be one of the Weight Watchers group. I may have even seen him the night I went for my one and only meeting. The last thing I wanted to do was face those people again. But if I had to, I would. I’d be able to finish the list. “I want to meet him,” I said. “Does he still go to the meetings?”
“Not since he reached his weight goal,” she said.
“Oh no.” I couldn’t hide my disappointment. But they probably had records. Of course they did! I’d be able to—
“But if you want to meet him, it’s no problem. He’s here.”
Sebastian slapped his hands on the table so hard that it made our drinks jump. “Get outta town. Here?! In the bar?”
“Well, yes. When Kitty Jones invited me, she said to go ahead and extend an invitation to anyone I wanted.”
“He’s here,” I said, stunned. Buddy Fitch was here. “Where?”
Norma gestured toward a man standing with his family. “Over there. Here, I can take you to meet him. Let me go get my—”
I didn’t even wait for her to finish. Here was my chance to complete the list! Oh, I hoped he’d confess to whatever misdeed he’d visited upon poor Marissa. If not, I’d do whatever it took to drag it out of him.
“That was a great speech,” he said when I approached.
He was a husky man with thinning red hair and a square but friendly face.
“Thanks,” I said, and then got right to the point. “Are you Buddy Fitch?”
“Me? Nah. Name’s Peter Fitch.”
My spirits sank, but then a kid’s voice said, “I’m Buddy.”
I gasped. “You’re Flash!” I said right as he pointed to me and said:
“Now I remember who you are! You’re the lady from the race!”
“You’re Buddy Fitch?” How could the nice kid from the race possibly have hurt Marissa? There must be a mistake. “I need to talk to you a minute,” I said, leading him away.
“You still running?” he asked, settling into a chair behind a giant potted fern where I thought we could get privacy.
I gave him a guilty look and admitted I’d done it only for the list. “Speaking of which,” I said, unfolding it, “maybe you can explain something to me.” I showed him #7: Make Buddy Fitch pay. “You have any idea why Marissa would write the one about making you pay?”
“Sure. She and I had a bet. When I joined Weight Watchers, I had thirty pounds to lose. I wanted to get on the track team, and one day when I sat next to Marissa, I told her I bet I’d never make it. She bet me I would, and we put money on it. She promised that she’d help me train.”
Unbelievable. “So it was literal. Make you pay.”
“She came to run with me a couple times after school before she…um…Anyhow, I didn’t quit. I kept running.”
“How much did you bet?”
“A dollar.”
I leaned close so my eyes were level with his. “So I guess what I need to know is, did you make the track team?”
“Yep.”
“In that case, Buddy Fitch”—I extended a hand, palm up—“pay up.”
#7. Make Buddy Fitch pay
SOON AFTER I brought the list back to the table and crossed off the last item, my friends gathered to leave.
“I’m so lucky to have all of you,” I said, overwhelmed with emotion. It was finally sinking in that I’d finished the list. Mere minutes earlier, I’d thought I still had a long way to go. “I could have never completed the list if it hadn’t been for your help.”
The Next Thing on My List Page 26