The hospital was crowded and chaotic, two things Leo hates the very most. He tried to be patient and wait his turn in line at the reception desk, but that only lasted five minutes. He offered a hundred dollars to a nurse to take him to the rooms of every male victim of 9/11. After the ninth room, the nurse had to leave him for an emergency, but for another hundred, he let Leo search on his own. It was during my phone call with Leo, when he interrupted his recount of searching for his friend by reminding me of how shady the people are in New York, that’s when I knew, Taddeo was alive. That phone call was twenty-five days ago.
I flew in yesterday. It had been almost a month since I saw Leo, and I couldn’t take being apart from him any longer. I could also tell by the sound of his voice that, as each day went on, he’d grown increasingly more depressed about Taddeo’s condition. His best friend had been laying in a coma for nearly a month with no signs of waking anytime soon.
Leo arrived to my room shortly after I checked in last night. His face unshaven, his clothes coffee stained and wrinkled, and his eyes sunken in. He looked ten years older than the last time I saw him. We embraced for a long time and then proceeded to a light dinner where he tried to prepare me for what I was going to see the following day. After dinner, he excused himself to go and pray at the small church he found down the street from the hotel. He said, “It’s the only thing I can think of that will help him.” I declined his invitation to go because, well…after all of the sins I’ve committed, I’m afraid I’ll light on fire if I step foot inside of one of those things. I decided to contribute to Taddeo’s recovery by doing what I do best; I raided the hotel mini-bar, shook myself a martini, and begged Kelly to pull some strings. Clearly our prayers worked last night because two hours ago Leo called me at the hotel with the remarkable news that Taddeo woke up.
Apparently, a few minutes before the first plane hit the towers on 9/11, Taddeo, who recently left Goldman Sachs to start his own Hedge Fund, went to the lower level of The North Tower. He was called down to meet a very lost furniture delivery guy. Once he was down there, tragedy struck. Everyone, including Taddeo, very slowly started leaving the building and no one really panicked until they got outside and realized what had happened. Even so, it seemed like such a small hole in comparison to the size of the building and he even contemplated going back to his office to grab his laptop. When he turned to ask a police officer if he could re-enter the building, that’s when The South Tower was hit. He stayed nearby to witness the catastrophe…too close actually. When The South Tower fell, it crumbled to the ground as quickly as a Jenga game gone bad. He ran as fast as he could to avoid the debris, but knew his efforts were hopeless when it started steamrolling around him. He dove under a car and held on for dear life. Apparently, Taddeo held on good enough because finally, after nearly a month of drifting in and out of consciousness, he woke up this morning to his grateful best friend sitting beside him.
After a few minutes of gathering his surroundings and several more of doctors poking and prodding him, a very confused Taddeo finally turns to Leo and asks, “Dude, what the hell?”
“Terrorists, Man. It was really bad. The Towers are gone.”
“Holy… A lot dead?”
“Almost everyone.”
“Jesus Christ.” After absorbing the enormity of what he survived and telling Leo the story of how he did, he asks, “When did you get here?”
“Bout’ a month ago. Took the first flight out.”
“Holy shit…I’ve been out that long, huh? How do I look?”
“Like you got the shit kicked out of you.”
“So I guess I look just like I did before that building landed on me, huh?”
“Damn it, Taddeo, I am so sorry that happened. We never should’ve fought.”
“It’s all in the past. Forget about it.”
Realizing he came as close as he did to losing one of the most important people in his life, after doing one of the most foolish things in his life, Leo conceals the sorrow in his eyes with his fingertips and hangs his head low. In barely a whisper, “I don’t know what came over me, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself.”
And like all good best friends, Taddeo lets him off the hook.
“Love, Man. Does crazy shit to people.”
Leo’s job at Robertson Stephens, although sympathetic at first because everyone there seemed to have known someone that died on 9/11, had become tired of waiting for him to come back and gave him an ultimatum- be at work on Monday or we have to let you go. That was two weeks ago. It would’ve been a devastating blow to most guys who had worked their entire adult life toward becoming an investment banker at one of the most prominent firms in the country, but he barely felt an ounce of pain from the loss. It paled in comparison to the potential one he sat next to at the hospital every day for the last month.
By the time I arrived to the hospital this afternoon the two old friends were already joking about the fight they got into back in August. Feeling awkward about the position I put the two of them in, I excused myself almost as quickly as I got there. But, before I left the room, I put my hand on Taddeo’s and said, “I don’t ever want to get in between your friendship with Leo. You mean too much to him and he means too much to me. When you get back on your feet, we’re going to have to work something out.” And then I kissed him on the forehead. When I reached the door he said, “I think we just did.”
After I left the hospital, Leo stayed to talk to the doctors who informed him that Taddeo appeared to be out of the woods and if everything stayed the course, he could possibly resume his life within a couple of weeks and go back to work. Now, preparing for his first restful night of sleep in nearly a month, Leo’s changing into a clean white t-shirt as I talk to him from the hotel bed.
“Resume what work? His new business is blown to smithereens.”
“Yeah and so is my career at Robbie.”
Sensing he’s hinting at something, I slowly put my wine glass down on the room service tray, pull my hotel robe tighter and wait for it.
“After you left today, Taddeo talked to me about joining his Hedge Fund group. Well, technically I’d be the group because the rest of the group is dead.” After shaking off the insanity of the situation, he continues. “He’s still got an incredibly viable business, it just needs to be rebuilt and he can’t do it alone.”
Trying not to sound nervous, “Wow, sounds like quite an opportunity.”
As he walks over to rummage through his suitcase he continues to talk about the potential in what Taddeo was just starting to get off the ground, about the likelihood of making far more money than he ever could’ve made at Robbie and about his commitment to helping his best friend that he feels like he so horribly mistreated outside of The Round Up on my birthday.
“There’s just one problem, Chrissy.”
Oh, crap. Here it is. “What’s that?”
“I have to be where the big clients are…in New York.”
Fifteen years ago, I fell in love with Kurt. It was also when I fell out of love with myself by agreeing to do, say and be everything that man wanted just so he’d love me back. Four years ago, I realized how wrong it was to be that way when I sat next to Leo at Buckley’s. And, almost a year ago, I fully realized the damning effects of not being true to myself by finalizing a very painful divorce. I’m not really sure how Leo expects me to react to what he just said, but I will not be true to myself if I say I’m okay with him living in New York. We fought too hard to finally be together again and he had to make huge career moves to work in the Bay Area. Besides all of that, New York is a God awful, mean, terrorist-laden location! I feel like I need to remind him of all of that stuff. But what would that make me if I did? What does it say about me to be the only one in this relationship to question those things…to be the only one afraid of losing everything we worked so hard to get back? Does it make me true to myself or truly desperate? On top of these concerns is the promise I made to Taddeo just yesterday, where I said
I wouldn’t get in the way of their friendship. All of a sudden a familiar feeling hits my stomach. I’m losing Leo…again.
“I don’t really know what to say.”
Leo turns from his suitcase, walks toward me and gently gets down on one knee. And then he hands me a beautiful black velvet box.
“Say you’ll marry me.”
Relief
November, 2001
I guess the good news about being alone in my cottage is that I can peacefully poop in it again. Aside from that, there’s not a whole heck of a lot of good about it. I’m lonely and I miss Leo like crazy. He hadn’t lived in the cottage long enough to unpack most of his belongings and aside from his business suits, he shoved what he did unpack into a bag when he quickly left for New York in September. Then, when he decided to stay in New York to work with Taddeo, I shipped off his suits so he’d be prepared for all of that business rebuilding, and I put his boxes in his mother’s garage where I wouldn’t have to trip over them every day. Aside from a few toiletries in the bathroom, it’s like he never even moved in.
There is plenty of good news outside of my cottage though. We’re opening our third Forever Young Yoga Studio in Alamo. Yep, the land of the rich! We’re going to hit those suckers with some relaxation and we’re going to hit em’ hard…after we make them commit to a contract and take their money up front of course!
Things became so weird after 9/11. Eating in with family and friends became more important than hitting up the newest and hippest restaurants and hopping on a plane for an exotic vacation was all of a sudden as enjoyable as getting your wisdom teeth extracted. People are craving family, stability, and peace. People want stuff like yoga and meditation to calm their nerves and almost overnight both of our studios became too crowded to handle. The minute I got back from New York we got to work securing our newest location. I was super happy about the distraction because I sort of didn’t want to think about the weirdest of all things that occurred after 9/11…my engagement.
Everything became blurry when Leo got down on his knee. I kept saying the words over and over again in my mind…”No, not yet! No, not yet!” I don’t know why I thought that, because ever since I laid eyes on Leo, I wanted him to be my husband. But, I guess the immediate idea of becoming a wife again scared the crap out of me. There’s a lot of responsibility with that role, a lot of things that can potentially go downhill…the possibility that more failure could creep back into my life. But, when I opened the black velvet box and saw the ring, a vintage 2.5 caret square cut diamond engagement ring with enough tiny sapphires surrounding it to probably make an entirely separate 1 caret ring, “No, not yet” turned into “Give it to me! Give it to me!” and all of my fears went out the window. Without ever having a serious conversation about rings, Leo bought me exactly what I would’ve picked out on my own. He nailed it. And then I let him nail me. I suppose you could say it was my “Yes, I’ll marry you!”
The remainder of my time in New York was filled with a bunch of Hedgehog, or whatever it’s called, talk. There was no talk of a wedding and that was just fine with me. What would we have discussed? I have a thriving business on the west coast, and he has a bunch of Hedge-thingies he’s trying to get in order on the east coast. I have a Goddaughter that I’m responsible for three days a week, and he has a friendship he’s trying to repair. I hate New York, and he wants to live in it. See? Everything’s blurry and grey. And, I know from experience, you can’t have a productive conversation about anything, let alone a wedding, when things are blurry and grey. So, two days after the proposal, I caught a flight home without having once talked about our future.
I remember for a time near the end of my marriage to Kurt, I compared us to two dots, one black one and one white one, because that’s how different we were and as time went on, our dots kept moving farther and farther away from each other. So far that by the time we had officially separated, our dots were almost undetectable.
But from the moment I met Leo, we were the same bright color dot. Even when were thousands of miles apart and not talking it seemed like our dots were moving in the same direction- toward each other. That’s how connected we were since the very beginning. That’s how in sync our dreams and goals were. But all of a sudden our bright and shiny dot has turned grey and grey has NEVER looked good on me! All of a sudden it feels like we’re moving in opposite directions. I don’t function well when there are two different color dots in a relationship. I know better than anyone that’s what a grey dot eventually turns into.
I tried to hide my fear of grey from Leo when I was in New York because he’s got so much on his plate right now, but he saw right through it when he walked me down to catch a cab to the airport.
“It’s gonna be okay, baby. Maybe it’ll be like this for four…five months tops. But, after that it’ll be like how it was before 9/11.”
“Sure… if you’re still alive.”
He’s just as scared as I am about the whole terrorist thing. Shit, everyone is. (That’s why I flew that day with my pointiest boots on. One swift kick to the groin and that extremist would rue the day he ever tried to take my plane down.) Still, Leo did his best to calm my nerves when he said, “I don’t wanna be in New York any more than you do. It’s just the right thing to do right now. I’ll get this business set up as quickly as I can and then I’ll get home to you. I promise.”
His Braveheart/The Last of The Mohican’s like demeanor pulled me into engagement dreamland, and for a few minutes I forgot about all of that grey area stuff. Our kiss at the taxi stand that day was epic and so was my flight out. As my plane ascended into the air, I thought about the last time I had departed from JFK. It was last December, right after Leo told me to take a hike outside of P.J. Clark’s. As I sat on the airplane a few days ago, I nervously twisted my new engagement ring as I stared down at the massive gaping hole in the ground where the towers used to stand. Given my tumultuous history with Leo, I thought to myself, “Who would’ve thought that would be the thing I’d never see again?” Life is so crazy sometimes that it scares the shit out of me.
And, speaking of having the shit scared out of you…While I was busy getting engaged in New York, Slutty Co-worker was busy with a few things of her own. While I was gone, the studios were shorthanded so my dear old trampy friend was forced to call people she didn’t even know to help her out and on that list was Barbara. I’d been trying to get Barbara to make an appearance in the studios since last May, but it seems like ever since I told her about Kendall, she’s come up with every excuse in the book to postpone a visit. She’s continued to drop off her handmade gadgets at the back door before anyone arrives or I’ve gone to her home in Berkeley to pick them up. It was evident that the idea of being around Kendall was too much for Barbara, so I never pushed it. Apparently, a little pushing was all that was needed though, because Slutty Co-worker succeeded in doing something I’ve failed at for six months!
“Who the hell is that?”
Standing outside of the glass window that separates the yoga studio from the reception area, I’m pointing at a woman who’s getting a private lesson from our most experienced and attractive yoga master dude.
Smiling from ear to ear, Slutty Co-worker boasts, “That’s your homegirl, Barbara!”
“Uhhhh, no it’s not. Barbara has more grey hair than…whoever has the most grey hair! And, besides that, she’s scared to death to step foot in this place, let alone take a private class from that guy! Hold on, is that even yoga? Is he supposed to touch her like that?”
“Why do you think his classes are always so full, hunny?”
“Nope, no way that’s Bar-”
With welcomed assistance from the yoga master, the woman who I so appropriately used to call Sad Frumpy Lady transitions into Warrior One, then sees me and starts wildly waving.
“Oh…my…God, what did you do to her?”
“Told her she looked like shit.”
“And?”
“And I also told her no ma
n would ever fuck her if she looked like shit. Then I took her to my stylist and out for a chardonnay. Now, here we are!”
“Holy crap, you must’ve scared her to death.”
“Totally…but her fear disappeared pretty darn fast when she looked in a mirror. I said to her, ‘Now there’s a face I’d wanna fuck!’ You know what she said?”
“Oh God…what?”
“She said, ‘You’re right. I really do need to get laid.’ And then I think she laughed for the first time in her life.”
Megan then joins us at the window to stare at Barbara in total disbelief. It’s a nice, quiet moment until Megan grabs my left hand and shoves it in my face.”
“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”
“HOLY SHIT, HUNNY, IS THAT WHAT WE THINK IT IS?”
The commotion causes Barbara to fly out of the studio to see what’s going on, but I postpone the inevitable by complimenting the unbelievable.
“I like your hair Barbara. You look…Jesus, you look fantastic!”
Twirling around in a happy circle, she laughs like I’ve never heard her laugh before.
“I know, unrecognizable, huh?” Wrapping her arms around Slutty Co-worker, “Who needs therapy when you have friends like this?” Then, noticing the other two women marveling at my ring, “Oh my goodness, Chrissy, is that an engagement ring?”
I proceed to tell my rag tag team that Leo asked me to marry him three days ago, but he’s staying in New York to rebuild a business and restore a friendship...or vice-versa or whatever.
“Hold on! This happened three days ago? But, you called us every day to give us an update on Taddeo and bark orders at us! How come you never mentioned it?”
The Unexpected List (The List Trilogy) Page 12
