In unison and sounding like total retards, Court and I answer:
“Yeah.” “Cool.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okie dokie.”
It was clear within a matter of minutes that for whatever bizarre reason, Kurt wanted to talk exclusively to me, and after a few Very Berry Bartles & James wine coolers, I let myself go a little bit.
“So it’s your big graduation party, that’s exciting! But geez, are you sure you wanna spend all your time sitting here with me?”
“Are you kidding? I’m pissed that I didn’t do it sooner. We would’ve had a great time hanging out in high school. You and your friends seem cool.”
“I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”
“I noticed you last year at Cheerleading try-outs. I think every guy noticed you that night.”
I think I’m gonna shit my pants RIGHT now. Boys noticed me? Kurt Gibbons noticed me?
“Debbie sure is a rough girl.”
“She’s not so bad. You just have to know her.”
“Oh, right. I’m not sure why I said that. Sorry. Why’d you guys break up?” “We’re just different. I either want to be alone or find someone who likes to do the same things as me.”
“What kinds of things?”
“I like to go fishing, camping, hike, ride my motorcycle, bike ride. Pretty much anything to do with the outdoors. Oh, and I like to read too.”
“ME TOO! I love to do all of that stuff. I was just gonna buy a new bike. Maybe you could help me pick one out.”
Courtney whips her head around and shoots me a look of disgust and pity all mixed together. She knows the closest I ever got to nature was in a lawn chair by the pool and the last I book I read was… no book. I shoot her a look back that says, “Don’t say a fucking word!”
“Hey, what are you and Courtney doing tomorrow? Do you guys wanna play some tennis with me and… ”
Before he can finish his sentence, Debbie and her motley crew of hair bears stomp into the gazebo.
“Great! Is this the girl you like now? Her?!” Her finger is about an inch from my face.
“Leave us alone, Debbie. You’re embarrassing yourself.” As he gently guides her finger away from my face he says, “Chrissy has nothing to do with our break up.”
He just said my name! Somebody pinch me.
Debbie’s voice escalates to a dog whistle-like pitch; her hands flail all around as she yells at him, Tom, me, Courtney, the world. Kurt stands up, puts his arm on her lower back, and guides her and her friends to an area by the pool. She shoots me a look that says “Ha ha, he still cares for me.” My heart sinks. I was so stupid to think that Kurt Gibbons would be interested in me. Just as I’m about to grab Courtney’s hand to leave the gazebo, Kurt and Tom push Debbie and her three friends into the water. As he walks back to me he says, “Maybe now she’ll cool off.” I’m in love.
*****
And I still do love him. We’re Kurt and Chrissy, the super cute couple who’s been in love since we were kids. How can a love story like ours turn into a nightmare?
Delusional
February, 1998
So this is what a therapist’s office looks like. It’s sparsely decorated with a couple of uncomfortable chairs that look like mauve threw up all over them, a side table stacked with outdated issues of Time magazine and, one really sad, frumpy looking lady. I try to make eye contact with her so I can give her the obligatory head nod, but she just glances at my shoes and then back down at the floor. Geez, what a miserable human being. I wasn’t prepared to sit amongst people with big problems. Then again, I’m not sure what I expected. Humph… I guess I didn’t give it much thought; I was too busy working my ass off all day at the office solving other people’s problems so I’d get here in time for someone else to solve mine. I arrived right on time and, thank God, because I can’t stand to sit in this waiting room of shame for one minute longer than I have to. Just as I bend down to grab something out of my purse to pretend I’m interested in, the door that I assume leads to the individual therapist’s offices opens and an official looking woman eyeballs me. She’s maternal looking with a classy Bohemian sense of style. Sections of her shoulder-length hair are pulled back in a loose bun held together with a pencil, and her chic tortoise shell glasses are dangling on the very tip of her nose. Judging by the expression on her face, I’m exactly what she expected. Dumb blond.
“You must be Chrissy.”
“Hi! Yes!” Extending my arm out for her to shake, “Sooooo nice to meet you!”
I realized there was way too much glee in my greeting when Sad Frumpy Lady rolled her eyes up and gave me a blank stare.
“Hi hunny, I’m Dr. Maria. Follow me on back.”
Her office is dimly lit. She points to an area on the couch where she wants me to sit. I plop myself down, cross my legs, and immediately start to twirl my hair like I just settled into the best booth at Whiskey bar. I swear, if we had a couple of martinis, this could be a cocktail party.
“Do you want to tell me why you’re here, Chrissy?”
What, no drinks?
“Well, I assume you listened to my voice message and it’s all very embarrassing. I don’t know why I did what I did, but I certainly don’t ever plan on doing it again. Mostly I just wanna understand why I did it, figure out how to deal with the guilt, and move on. I’ve never even dated another guy, never wanted to at all! I love Kurt. That’s my husband’s name, Kurt. We’ve been together since high school, just like my parents! We married three years ago and he’s amazing! Lights up any room when he walks through the door. Everyone just loves…”
“Why don’t you tell me about this other man- the one you spent Saturday evening with.”
I could really use that martini right about now.
“Oh, uh…His name is Leo.”
Saying his name makes me feel pretty.
“And?”
“And he’s just…different.”
“Different than what?”
“Different than anyone I’ve ever met.” “How does it feel to talk about him?”
“Obviously, it’s embarrassing and I’m totally confused about all of it.”
“Anything else?”
“I guess it’s also electrifying, and I don’t know why that is. It seems like what I did should have the opposite effect, like I should be depressed, but I’m not. I feel like I have super powers or something.”
“Tell me more about Leo.”
“I don’t really know how to explain him; he’s just someone I wish I could get to know better.”
“Why?”
God I hate this.
“I guess when I was with him, I felt alive, and I feel alive right now talking about him. And I wanna shout out that I met the most amazing person in the world, but I can’t do that. It kinda scares me that he’ll have to stay in my mind forever. Feels very Bridges of Madison County, ya know?”
Since I’m not a middle aged Iowan woman of Italian decent with two teenage kids and an ol’ fart farmer husband, she’s obviously having a hard time making the connection.
“I saw that movie a few years ago, and it depressed the hell out of me. The woman, Francesca, had an affair with some traveling photographer dude who rolled into town, and even though she only knew him for a few days, he was the one for her. Did you see the movie?”
“Who didn’t?”
“Tell me about it. Anyway, I remember being on the edge of my seat when the photographer… crap, what was his name again?”
“Robert Kincaid.”
Yep, she saw the movie.
“Right! Remember that scene when Robert was waiting for Francesca in his beat up old truck at the stop light, and she was in the car behind him with her husband sitting in the driver’s seat?”
“Oh I remember. It was pretty heavy.”
“Beyond heavy. Robert was giving her one last chance to run away with him, and she sat there totally agonizing over the choice…I agonized with her. I mean, he
was the love she’d been waiting for her whole life! I thought…she has to go! But she didn’t. The obligation to her husband and kids was greater than the one she had to herself, so after the light turned green, she watched her love drive away forever. I felt like letting him go was more shameful than her affair. Should I be embarrassed for admitting that?”
“Do you think Francesca knew something was missing from her life before she met Robert?”
She ignored my question. Rude!
“I don’t think so. I think she was busy living the life she chose. I don’t think she knew what was missing until it smacked her in the face.”
“Was this Leo guy your smack in the face?”
Afraid of my answer I turn my focus to the ugly picture hanging on her wall, hoping she’ll move on to something else.
“Chrissy, do you think Leo is making you second guess the life you chose?”
I guess you get what you pay for around here.
“Not at all.”
“Then why does your encounter with Leo remind you of Bridges of Madison County?”
This lady’s starting to bug me.
“Well, I’m not second-guessing my decision to be married to Kurt, if that’s what you think. But, I guess I’m having a hard time fighting the feelings that surfaced when I met Leo last Saturday night.” I abruptly stop mid hair-twirl and blurt out, “You know what really bothers me about that movie?”
“What’s that?”
“It never showed Francesca coping with any guilt, and it never showed how she survived the loss of her true love! The movie cut from when the photographer drove away to like twenty years later when her husband kicked the bucket. What the hell was she doing all those years in between? How did she resume her life after her true love disappeared? It sure would help to know where I’m supposed to put all of my feelings so I can go back to the choices I made before Leo. Choices I was happy with, by the way.”
“Do you think it’s possible to find true love after only knowing someone for a few days?”
“I don’t know. But…I think meeting someone so perfect for you can make you question the true love you thought you already had. Hold on, are we talking about me or Francesca?”
She says nothing, and the quiet allows me to ponder the movie a little bit more.
“Remember when Francesca was toying with pulling the car door handle?”
“Big moment, huh?”
“Huge. You think she’s gonna get out and run. I mean she HAS TO right!? It’s her destiny to be with Robert! But then she peels her fingers away from the door handle, slumps back in her seat…crushed by her obligations.”
I laugh a little.
“What’s so funny?”
“I watched the movie with Kurt, and I remember telling him that I thought she should’ve pulled the door handle. He looked at me like I was a monster. I quickly explained that I only said that because I imagined him as being Robert, he was the one I would have an affair with. Then he got angry that I would even suggest an affair. It became a big argument.”
“What happened?”
We had an argument. Duh! I just told you that.
“Well, I tried to explain to him that he was my whole world and, married or not, I would escape any situation to be with him. I thought it was sweet, but instead of feeling moved by my confession, he pooh-poohed all of it. I dunno…maybe I didn’t explain myself right. Seems like I always have a hard time explaining myself to Kurt.”
“Now that you’ve had this experience with Leo, how do you see yourself in that car scene from the movie?”
It takes me a long time to process her question. When I finally answer, it’s slow.
“Kurt and I are in the same car. Leo’s waiting for me in the truck ahead of us, and I can see his eyes in the rear view mirror, they’re pleading with me to run away with him.” Goosebumps pop up all over my arms, and I close my eyes in almost agonizing pain as I envision the scene I’m creating. “And my hand is gripping the door handle.”
“Knowing you might not ever see Leo again, do you pull the handle?”
My eyes pop wide open.
“My situation is different than Francesca’s…I’m younger…I don’t have children.”
“Are you saying it makes your choice easier?”
“No…I’m saying that…I’m saying…I don’t know what I’m saying!
I’ve never had anyone to compare Kurt to. He’s all I’ve ever known.”
“Pretend you’re her and you have to make a choice. Do you pull it?”
“I never wanted to be Francesca.”
“Do you pull it?”
I want to pull that pencil out of your hair and stab you in the face with it!
“Chrissy?”
“Damn it, my obligation tells me no, but the craving for whatever I felt on Saturday night tells me I have to, and I’m scared because craving is kicking obligation’s ass.”
“Sometimes it’s easy to confuse safety with obligation. Do you think that’s what Francesca did?”
I’m really starting to regret bringing up this movie.
“You mean, do I think that’s what I’m doing? Look, maybe obligation was the wrong word. Bottom line is I love Kurt. He’s all I’ve ever loved, but since Saturday, that love feels like some kind of a sacrifice and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Chrissy, you just traded in the word obligation for sacrifice.” For the love of Christ. Coming here was a huge mistake.
“Dr. Maria, I came alive on Saturday night, and all I want to know is how to keep that feeling and go back to my life before I met Leo. Is that possible?”
“Anything’s possible. Why don’t you tell me more about Saturday and the events leading up to it.”
I tell her everything about the night I met Leo and the phone call the day after. I tell her about walking around aimlessly in the rain and my first ever orgasm. I tell her that I went days without thinking about my husband and that I let the few calls he did make to me go straight to voicemail. But mostly, I tell her about the type of woman I’ve always been and how that woman is so opposite of what I was the night I met Leo. I thoroughly explain how much men annoy me, and have my whole life. I get furious whenever one of them checks me out, attempts to grab a seat next to me at the airport, just says “hello.” I can spot those schmucks a mile away, and my invariable response to them is to flash them my wedding ring, a dirty look, and walk away.
“If that’s the case, why didn’t you walk away from Leo? What made him so different?”
“There was nothing to walk away from. He never even approached me.”
“I see. What made you approach him then?”
“It’s so stupid.”
“Tell me.”
“He was just talking about something I thought was interesting. I guess I wanted to know more.”
Please don’t ask! Please don’t ask!
“What was it?”
Oh, Lordy.
“Ghosts. He was talking about ghosts.”
And I thought her Bridges of Madison County face was weird.
“I know, I know, it’s corny. Kurt thinks my fascination with ghosts is completely silly as well.”
“No, not silly at all.”
“Sure it is, but hearing Leo talk about them was, I dunno… almost serene. Anyway, I interrupted his conversation to ask him a question and he made me feel stupid, like I was some kind of bar whore or something. It was pretty embarrassing. I was gonna leave it at that, but as he turned back around to continue to talk to his buddy, our eyes met. Frankly, he intimidated me a little bit and I told him so. I mean, not in a bitchy way just in a sarcastic ‘are you always this pleasant’ kind of way. Anyway, my comment amused him and now I’m in therapy.”
I thought it was her turn to talk, but she’s just staring at me, waiting for me to say more.
“A few months ago, I read some stupid article in Cosmo about dating. I don’t know why really, because well…I’m married and obviously I don’t date. B
ut anyway, it said the quickest way to determine true companionship is to interview your date the minute they show up at your door. Just put yourself totally out there and request they do the same. It’s supposed to speed up knowing if you should pursue a second date or end the first one on the spot. No sense wasting time right?”
Just a nod.
“Like if during the interview I confessed to being a diehard vegetarian and the guy revealed he loved veal, obviously we would immediately agree that we were totally wrong for each other, no matter what physical attraction originally existed.
“Seems like there would be no shame of rejection with a process like that.”
“Exactly! I mean, if a guy didn’t want to be with you, chances are you wouldn’t want to be with him either and you’d both know exactly why. And there’s no embarrassment… no heartbreak. As long as everyone’s honest, it seems like a very efficient way to find a true companion, right?”
Another nod, but at least this one shows some positive consideration for what I’m saying.
“Anyway, I know I wasn’t technically on a first date with Leo, but I thought it would be fun to try what I had read. Within the first hour of meeting him, we covered politics, abortion, religion, money, dreams, goals, fears, you name it. I honestly answered all of his questions and remarkably, he did the same, and what happened was insane. He liked me. The good, the bad, and the ugly, and I felt the same way about him. It was like every other second one of us was saying ‘me too’ or ‘I totally agree’!”
“Would you say you were 100% you?”
“More like 200%. I told him things I’ve never admitted to another human being.”
“If you don’t mind sharing, what was the craziest thing you told him?”
“That I wanted to be a good wife. I know… how twisted is that? There I am, a wife, flirting with a guy I met at a bar and I’m telling him I want to be a good wife. Makes me sick to my stomach.”
“What does it mean to be a good wife to you?”
The Life List (The List Trilogy) Page 6
