“Spill it!”
“Okay, don’t freak. I cheated on Kurt.”
“Chrissy, nooooooooo!”
“I know, I know, I’m going to Hell. But listen to me, Nic, I need your help right now. My life is already knee deep in doo-doo, but if that girl sees me here with Kurt, I’m gonna be covered in it.”
“Who the hell is she?”
“Leo’s friend.” “Who’s Leo?”
“Leonardo DiCaprio.”
“Are you serious?”
“No dumbass, just LEO! The guy I’ve been…”
“Oh, that’s his name? Is he cute?”
“Not the time, Nic!”
“Shit, sorry. When did all of this start?”
I explain to Nicole how I met Leo at a bar, and it was never my intention to continue to see him past that one night, but for reasons that I don’t have time to explain, I keep getting lured back to him. I tell her that I still love Kurt, but I’ve fallen in love with Leo, and that Megan also loves Leo, but Leo told her to take a hike to protect me, and now I bet she’ll do whatever she can to ruin my engagement.
“I’m confused. What engagement?”
“Oi vey, Leo doesn’t know I’m married. He thinks I’m engaged. Actually, he thinks I was engaged, but I broke off the engagement so that he’d see me again, but she doesn’t know that and…Jesus, this is the first time I’ve said it all out loud and it all sounds ridiculous.”
“No, you sound like a fucking freak. I get the slip up okay, shit happens, divorce happens. But all that other stuff is just plain crazy, girl.”
“Crucify me later, Nic. Right now we need to figure out what we’re gonna do.”
“What we’re gonna do?”
“Nicole! Are you seriously gonna let my marriage implode IN A BOWLING ALLY?”
“All right, all right! What do you want me to do?”
“Once we go back out there, spill all of the beers on the floor. You would’ve done it anyway.”
“All of them?”
“Yeah, knock ‘em all down. The bigger the mess, the better. Break shit if you have to.”
She’s looking at me like I’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind.
“Okay Einstein, and then what?”
“You preoccupy the guys with the mess, and I’ll run to the bar to get napkins. I have to tell that girl to get outta here before she ruins everything for me!”
After a few minutes of strategizing, followed by some bottle breaking, I sneak over to Megan.
“Hi. Remember me?”
Twirling around and faking shock, Megan’s beady little blue eyes glare at me like she knows she’s got me by the balls.
“Of course I remember you, Chrissy. You’re the one that’s completely mind fucking my friend.” Peering over my shoulder, she groans. “Wow, just how many guys are you dating…or marrying?”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“It’s exactly what it looks like. I might be young, but I’m not stupid.”
Who is he?”
“My brother.”
Turning to her friends, “Any of you guys ever kiss your brother when you bowl a strike?”
Fuck. I wanted this to go peacefully, but it looks like the bowling gloves are gonna have to come off.
“Megan, I need you and your friends to leave. Now.”
“You leave. No, even better, let’s call Leo right now and tell him what’s going on.”
Fuck! Fuck!
“I’m pretty sure he told you never to call him again.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure he’d appreciate this call.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
“Before you do something really stupid, Megan, I think you should consider what I do for a living.”
It’s a stretch, but I’m backed into a corner here.
“Oh, puleez!”
“From what I hear, you’re quite the aspiring little fashion designer!”
“Like, what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Like, unless you wanna use that hundred thousand dollar college education of yours to like sew sample garments in like Laos or some fucked off place like that, then I’d think long and hard about what your gonna do right now. I know people, Megan. Lots and lots of people, and I’ll make the first few years of that little career of yours a freaking shit show if you don’t leave, NOW!”
I dodged a huge bullet last night. I never would’ve had the cover to run Megan out of the bowling alley if Nicole didn’t make the most obnoxious mess all over lane 7. I cancelled my therapy session tonight and invited Nicole over for wine so we could rehash the events of last night, and we laughed until we got side cramps. But before she left my house, she got serious and told me she’s not comfortable carrying around my big secret, and she made me swear to tell Courtney and Kelly about it. I begged her for some time to come clean, but she said she’d only give me till next week when we meet them for lunch. As much as I dread telling my judge and jury, I need help strapping myself to the table. So before Nicole leaves, I assure her that I’ll spill the beans about my affair. It’ll be an ass kicking but one I deserve. I want to call Leo the second she’s gone, but I can’t. There’s not enough time before Kurt gets home. I’m just gonna have to miss him instead. And I do. I miss him all the time.
Kurt’s supposed to arrive home any minute from having spent the afternoon kayaking with clients. I take a break from missing Leo to roll my eyes about that. Does everything have to be so outdoorsy all the time? I plop down on my bed and stare at a picture of him surfing. I suppose a lot of women might find Kurt’s escapades sexy, but they do nothing for me. I’m almost scared of the day he finds the woman who truly appreciates him for who he is. It’ll be the day he realizes he wasted the last twelve years on me. I put the picture down, walk to the window to look for his car, and sigh. I’m pre-frustrated about having to fake interest in his day in order to avoid an argument, and I’m pre-irritated that he’s gonna make me feel like I wasted a perfectly good night farting around with Nicole. He’ll tell me I should’ve gone for a brisk evening walk or stained an end table or some bullshit thing like that.
I daydream for a minute about what it would be like if Leo was my husband and he was the one about to walk through the door. He’d hug me and kiss my neck before he even put his keys down. I’d have something grilling away on the BBQ and a glass of wine waiting for him and we’d compare notes about how much we missed each other during the day as we made our way to the couch. He’d lift my feet onto his lap and rub them while he re-capped his day and I’d ohhh and ahhh over his investment banker sexiness. He’d marvel at how pretty the house and I look, and he’d convince me to quit my job because, what the heck, I’m gonna do it anyway once we have kids. Then his hand would travel up my thigh, underneath my skirt…
The dog barks, and it snaps me out of dreamland and into pissed-off-ville. In order for any of that stuff to happen, I have to do a lot of really confusing and unpardonable shit to Kurt and I have to admit a lot of really confusing and unpardonable crap to Leo. How can I possibly? Where will I find the courage? I mean, I literally have to destroy lives to get what I want, and I’ll have to admit so many mistakes. Most days it seems easier to live like Francesca than do all of that. I don’t have the answers to anything anymore. The only thing I know how to do is continue to lie until hopefully, God willing, the answers to all of my questions come to me or…my friends inject me with a huge dose of truth serum when I strap myself to the table next week.
I start to pace the house like a caged zoo animal because I’m overwhelmed with the barrage of questions that constantly fire away in my head. The what-ifs and the what happens nexts…they never go away and they never get answered. On the outside, I look like I’m in complete control, but really I live in a state of perpetual confusion. I decide to do the only thing I can think of to prevent myself from having a nervous breakdown. I start a journal. I must really be losing my mind because I always thought journals were for total pansies and whackos.
I guess I’m both of those things now.
I start writing about the lies. Out of all the horrible things penetrating my brain, the lies are what cause me the most angst. A journal documenting all of them might help me see the error of my ways. If not that, it will definitely help me remember what I tell everybody.
There’s the most recent Dallas/Chicago lie. There’s the lie to Kurt about staying the night at Slutty Co-workers apartment in San Francisco when I was really hanging out with Leo. I try to keep Slutty Co-worker up to speed with all of my stories and itinerary modifications just in case she crosses paths with Kurt or Leo. But, I tell so many fibs it’s hard enough for me to remember where I was supposed to be half the time, let alone keep her informed. Then there are the stories I tell Dr. Maria. I have to try to keep those consistent with what I tell Kurt in case my whereabouts come up at one of their sessions. It’s a grind.
As I put pen to paper I realize this journal is the one place I can be honest, something I haven’t been in a very long time. At first I have difficulty getting the truth down. I write a sentence, read it, get sick to my stomach, and then pace a bit before I make my way back to the journal. After a few sentences and a few laps around the house, the flood gates of my fraudulent life are released and I can’t write fast enough. Before I know it, I have fifteen pages of honesty. Shit, I guess I had enough time to call Leo after all.
I take a few minutes to re-read my reality and there’s no denying it, it’s gross and painfully obvious I need therapy. Real therapy, not the fake kind I’ve been getting. The sound of the garage door opening jolts me out of my condemnation, and I quickly stash the journal in my work bag. As I make my way down the hall to greet Kurt, it crosses my mind that by now Megan has probably told Leo what she saw last night. I’m sure she used her run-in with me as an excuse to call him, just like I used my run-in with her as an excuse to call him. I haven’t had the nerve to listen to my voicemail yet. I’m sure he’ll demand that I see him right away and that’s not possible until next Thursday when Kurt goes out of town. I’m in for a shitty seven days.
Surviving
May, 1998
The day after the bowling alley shit show, I only had one message from Leo.
“We need to talk.”
I knew I was in trouble, so I didn’t call him back.
Nothing for three days and then, “It’s total bullshit that I can never reach you.”
Yep, I’m in big trouble!
Then nothing until the message I received today.
“I was mad. Now I’m worried. Call me today or I’m gonna wander the streets of Danville calling out your name. Someone will tell me where I can find you.”
Time to make the call.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“That took long enough.”
“I’m sorry, Leo. I have so much going on right now. We’re getting ready to launch a new line and I’ve been working non-stop.”
“Right, so I guess it’s a good thing you were able to take a break from all the chaos at the office and bowl a few games.”
Uh-oh.
“So Megan told you she saw me?”
“You knew she would. Who’s the guy?”
“Hey, I thought you told her never to call you again.”
“Don’t change the subject. Who’s the guy?”
“Kurt.” Silence.
“Leo, we’re breaking things off slowly. We have lots of friends together, and we’re still settling things with the house and cars and…”
“You guys own the house together?”
“Well, yeah. I assumed you knew that.”
“This is fucking ridiculous, Chrissy. End it with him now.”
“It’s not that easy. We have history and I want this break up to be as amicable as possible.”
“Are you saying you wanna be friends with him!?”
“How can I make you understand any of this?”
You know…without telling you the truth!
“You can’t, and I’m getting sick of you trying to make me.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying this is bullshit. For months you’ve gone in and out of my life. You go days without calling me and you NEVER pick up the phone when I call you. I always have to wait for a call back. What’s up with that?”
“That’s totally not true!” It’s totally true.
“Bullshit! Tell me Chrissy…why do I always have to wait for a call back?”
“Dammit Leo, can’t you just try to put yourself in my position for one minute?”
“No.”
“Then we’re gonna have a problem because I can’t cut Kurt out of my life, not right now.”
Finally some truth.
“Honestly, I don’t know what my relationship with him will look like in the future. But right now, I can’t imagine not knowing him, and I hope you can live with that.”
Wow, another truth. I’m on a roll.
“I won’t live with that.”
“So that’s it then? I have to cut off all communication with him in order to have a relationship with you?”
“That’s what I’m saying. Look, settle the stuff with the house but when that’s over, I don’t want him hanging around. He had his chance and he blew it. Why the fuck should he have the privilege of still knowing you?”
Given the lying and cheating, I hardly think anyone would consider it a privilege to know me let alone be married to me. But I cannot fathom never talking to Kurt ever again. Every memorable experience I’ve had in the last twelve years has been with that man. If he goes, will my memories have to go with him? Will over a decade of my life become taboo to talk about? Will Kurt have to be dead to me? Worse, will I have to be dead to him?! My God, I can’t have any of that. There has to be a way for me to have my wedding cake and eat it too.
“Leo, I love that you want me all to yourself and if I were you, I would be demanding the same thing. But, I really need you to give me time to handle this my way. If I told you anything else, I’d be lying to you.”
And a lot more than I already have.
“Don’t talk to me about him ever again. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Don’t do anything with him ever again. Okay?”
Gulp. “Okay.”
“Give me your phone number, Chrissy. The real one, not some voicemail account.”
“What are you talking about? It is real! It’s my work cell phone, so I don’t always answer it.”
“Then give me your personal cell number.”
As if things weren’t complicated enough, I give him my real cell number, hang up, and then promptly turn off my phone.
If Leo and I met under honest circumstances, there would be no need for demands. I’d give him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. That’s what adoration gets you.
And self-deprecation is what adultery gets you. I hate myself for manipulating how much Leo cares about me by keeping the most important thing about me a secret. But there’s no way he can ever know I’m married because, if he did, all of his love for me would turn to hate. The guy HATES liars, he said it himself! For that reason, I’m eventually gonna have to disappear from Leo’s life. The thought of that makes me sick, but not quite as sick as when I plop down on the waiting room chair across from Sad Frumpy Lady who’s wearing the same damn outfit she wore two weeks ago and the week before that and the week before that.
“Come on back, hun.”
I’ve been looking forward to this session. Kurt’s solo appointment was earlier today and I’m eager to hear how it went.
“Tell me, Chrissy, how were things with Kurt after the session we had together?”
I bet she asked him the same question and she’s gonna see how my answer stacks up to his.
“So-so. He took me out to a dinner that consisted mostly of food he hates and he didn’t scoff when I ordered three beers. Oh, and he apologized for not coming to my defense with his family as often as he should’ve and that was nice. I
appreciated all the effort, but to be honest with you, those things didn’t make me feel good.”
“How did it feel?”
“Like he was pretending to be someone he’s not, just like I did for all those years. Eventually, he’ll get sick of it and he’ll go back to how he was before. Or, and this is doubtful, he’ll continue to do things he doesn’t like just to make me happy and he’ll end up feeling like I do now, and that can’t be good. How did he say it went when you met with him earlier today?”
“He didn’t show up.”
“What are you talking about?!”
I came here today to tell Dr. Maria about wanting freedom…to get help with an exit strategy. But this news totally blows me off course. This news blows. Period.
“Not even a call to cancel. Do you think he forgot?”
Kurt just took a big crap on the life preserver I threw out to him.
He just rejected my sadness. He just rejected my anger. He just flat out rejected me.
“I don’t think so. We talked about it last night. Gee, something must have come up at work. I’m so sorry he didn’t call to cancel.”
“Chrissy, you’ve got to stop making excuses and apologizing for that man. He’s a big boy and just like he was conscious of missing many significant events in your life, he’s conscious of his decision not to come to therapy today.”
The rejection that Kurt just punched me in the stomach with and Dr. Maria’s claim that he’s fully aware of this punch and the million before it, made me crumble on her couch. Through my jagged breaths and runny nose, I say what I should’ve said a long time ago.
“But…if…I…stop…making excuses… .I’ll have…to…admit…the truth.”
“What do you think that truth is?”
“That…I…married a man…who doesn’t…love me.”
After a few minutes of nose blowing and mascara mopping, Dr. Maria tenderly looks at me and says, “Actually, I disagree. I believe he loves you more than anything in the whole world.”
Oh, great. Is she crazy now, too?
“Then why would he reject me like this?”
“I don’t think he’s rejecting you; I think he’s rejecting any type of self-examination that may expose his imperfections.”
The Life List (The List Trilogy) Page 18