The Life List (The List Trilogy)

by Chrissy Anderson

  Once I became focused on the women around me and my almost certain unhappy place amongst them, it seemed like all of the Kurt and Leo crap that used to clutter my head just disappeared. Don’t get me wrong, I still mourn the loss of what I wanted with the both of them, but until I make my life about me, no man will fit into it, and the crazy women circling the reservoir every single day are proof of that. It’s clear to me now that a therapist can ask you questions but until you ask them of yourself and give yourself time and space to think about the answers, you’re not really making any progress. I remember painfully trying to find answers in Leo’s quiet apartment when he lived in Monterey, but failed. Too many of my thoughts were about other people, none of them were about me.

  Eventually I blocked the crazy reservoir women out of my mind because, frankly, they made me sick. I started thinking about things like my career and the creative projects I’ve put on hold because of it. I’d love to learn how to play the guitar, plant a garden, take cooking classes. Shoot, I’ve always wanted to own my own business. I thought about trivial things like how I would decorate my own place if I had it and what kind of car I would buy if the choice were mine and mine alone. Inspiring and completely attainable lists started to fill my head, and soon my trendy work out gear turned into ripped sweat pants and dirty sweatshirts because I couldn’t wait to get on that walking path, breathe in the clean air, and think about all the great things that are within my grasp. All of those huge thoughts I used to have about having babies, getting a divorce, and telling secret lovers about secret husbands kept me paralyzed, unable to see the things in life that could make me happy. But I see them now, and I think I’m officially ready to go after some happiness.

  Now or Never

  November, 1998

  It’s finally Friday. Normally I’d look forward to the weekend. I’d sleep in. Slutty Co-worker would bring me a Starbucks, we’d hit up her yoga class, and then I’d drive over the Bay Bridge and walk for hours around the reservoir, dreaming up a bunch of things I want to do with my life. But not this weekend. In fact, I’m actually dreading it.

  Six days ago, after a long walk, I was driving through Lafayette in the stormy fall weather looking for a place to grab some coffee, when I came across a man posting a “for rent” sign. I’m not sure if it was my overwhelming fear of becoming a future member of a pack of angry women or my newfound enthusiasm for all the possibilities in life that are within my grasp, but twenty minutes later, I signed a lease for the place. Perhaps the beginnings of the correction phase of my life!

  I rented a tiny one bedroom, one bath cottage with lovely old French doors that lead to a massive deck overlooking a roaring creek. It’s secluded, peaceful, and perfect, and it’s also conveniently located five minutes from a bar and not just any bar: The Round Up.

  According to Leo’s messages from The Ho-Bag, The Round Up is his home away from home these days. I’ve been tempted to drop in for a beer when I know he’s gonna be there, but for the life of me, I can’t come up with a lie that would explain why I would frequent a place like The Round Up. The patrons are a unique blend of couch-burning Oakland Raiders fans, construction workers, and uber rich college kids, and for some inexplicable reason, the crowd clicks. But me…I would NOT click. Maybe one day if the Raiders make it to the playoffs or if I date another college boy (like those two things will EVER happen) I’ll stop in for a beer. But for now, concocting a plan to bombard Leo at his hang-out goes against any and all of the correcting I need to be doing in my life. But mostly, I’m too scared to play with drugs again. Quitting was way too hard. Nope, part one of my correction phase begins by moving into my heavenly cottage. But before I do that I have to tell Kurt I leased it, and that’s supposed to happen tomorrow morning. Hence…the weekend dread.

  It’s been easy to put the Kurt conversation out of my mind for the last five days because my schedule’s been full with interviews for a few positions my company is looking to fill. Every single minute of my week was packed with Donna Karan wanna be’s. Only one more to go, and then I can start to mentally prepare myself for the morning.

  Just as the Jewish American Princess Designer and I are picking ourselves up off the floor from laughing so hard at the entitled piece of Euro-trash who just left my office, my assistant knocks on my door to tell me our next interview is waiting, a Ms. Megan Cox.

  “Omigod! Let me see this girl’s resume, hurry!”

  J.A.P digs in her pile and frantically hands it to me.

  “What the hell’s the matta?”

  I scan down the page to the education part and see that this Megan Cox is, in fact, my nemesis. I exhale, “Holy shit, she’s got balls.”

  “Is it good? Lemme see it. Wow, she’s studyin’ Bitness at St. Mewee’s in Mowaga, and she’s due to gwaduwate early…next month, acthwally. Wow, and she’s been takin’ night kwasses in fashion design in San Fwan for the last yeeeea. She’s a work-horse, just like we want! Can’t wait to meeta!”

  “Me neither.”

  In walks a confident Ms. Megan. Based on her education and her outfit, I think I’d actually like her…if I didn’t hate her so much. I rise from my chair, stick out my hand and say, “Hi Megan, nice to see you again,” and it rattles her. Totally not what she expected!

  “You two know eachotha?”

  After I introduce the two of them, I explain that Megan and I have a mutual friend named Leo and then I casually proceed with the interview. I know Megan wants this internship and she won’t do anything to ruin her chances of getting it. And I’m right, the interview concludes without any uncomfortable moments, we shake hands again, and I tell her we’ll be in touch. That’s right, I have your address and phone number now, bitch!

  “She’d be good for the job, Kwissy.”

  “Yeah, she would. Let’s put her in our maybe pile.”

  She might be good for the job, but she won’t be good for me if she works here. It would only be a matter of time before she spilled the beans about my relationship with Leo to someone in the gossip, I mean design, department. That girl’s gone and done it again! Just like she forced me to tell Nicole about Leo, she’s gonna force me to tell my co-workers that I cheated on who she thinks is my fiancé but who they know as my husband. Then she’ll find out I’m married and…gulp, tell Leo. But she is the best candidate for the internship, and my credibility will be on the line if I argue against her. I have no choice, I’m gonna have to beat her to the punch and tell my co-workers I’m separated. Since I’m gonna do that, I might as well tell Kurt I want a divorce. And since I’m gonna do that, I might as well correct everything and just tell Leo I’m married myself. And if I do that, I’ll be sure to tell him it’s Megan’s fault I’m back in his life. Like I said, I’d like that girl if I didn’t hate her so much.

  After a restless night pondering my conversation with Kurt about the cottage and my new Megan dilemma, I wake up early on Saturday morning and timorously tackle dilemma number one.

  “So what do you think?”

  “Of what?”

  For a split second I consider making up the reason I dragged him here, because I just got the feeling the venti latte I brought him as a peace offering ain’t gonna do a damn thing to cushion the blow of what I’m about to say. Not only am I gonna piss Kurt off and mark the beginning of the end of twelve years together, I’m about to set him free to have the kind of fun I’ve been having for the past eleven months. Except his fun will be permissible and encouraged by everyone who’s gonna hate me for doing this to him. Ugh. Maybe I should’ve thought this through a bit more. I mean, eventually word will get out about this place and then our status will become public knowledge. It’ll only be a matter of time before girls flock to him. Someone’s cuteness will grab his attention and he’ll feel compelled to act on his curiosity. He’ll buy the cute girl dinner, and no doubt she’ll be more than happy to thank him with more than a kiss. Omigod, he’ll touch her, and it might feel better than it did when he touched me. Because of what I�
��m about to tell him, because of the legitimate space I’m about to put between us…he’s probably gonna realize he’s better off without me. I imagined payback would be a bitch for what I’ve done to him, but if thoughts like this come to fruition, I might actually die.

  “Hello? Earth to Chrissy! I’m running late for a kayaking lesson, can you tell me why we’re here?”

  But hold on, would I die? Would the pain of finding out that Kurt screwed around with another woman hurt any more than knowing I screwed around on him? And if he realizes he’s better off without me…could it possibly hurt any more than my own realization that I’m better off without him? Hardly. Get real, Chrissy! You killed the relationship when you met Leo, and you were dead in it long before that. So what’s it gonna be?

  “I rented this cottage, Kurt.”

  “For what?”

  “To live in. I can’t squat on people’s couches forever.”

  “Are you kidding me with this? You’re married, with a home in DANVILLE! We can barely afford that mortgage and now you want to layer this on top of it?”

  “I got a huge raise, I’m paying for it on my own.”

  “You got a raise without telling me?”

  Oopsy. I didn’t mean for that to slip out.

  “Well, it’s not that huge, but it’s enough for me to cover this place. I’m doing this, Kurt.”

  He takes two condescending steps toward me, puts his hands on my shoulders and stares down at me like I’m a lost kid at a carnival. If I show an ounce of weakness, he’ll make me feel confused, clobber me over the head, and drag me back to the cave. He thinks he’s talking to the old Chrissy, but I’ve come too far to give her to him.

  “C’mon, Chrissy, what are you doing?”

  “I’m moving in here so I can be alone and think.” Good girl. Stay strong.

  “Think at home.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think it’s gonna be a little weird during the holidays?”

  “I dunno, don’t you think it’s weird that you committed to hosting Christmas Eve at our house when I don’t even live there?”

  Man, I hate doing this. I hate acting like him.

  “IT’S STILL YOUR HOUSE AND YOU’RE STILL MY WIFE! Look, I’ve been patient with all the hiding at your parents’ house and the running off to your friend’s place in the city, but getting your own apartment is plain nuts.”

  “It’s a cottage.”

  “I don’t care if it’s Trump Tower! You made a vow to love me for better or for worse, and if you lease this place, it means you stopped doing what you promised to do.”

  “I DO LOVE YOU!”

  “How is this love?!”

  “I’m doing this because you can’t see what I see.”

  “Oh yeah, tell me, Chrissy… what are you so aware of that I’m not?”

  “Dammit, Kurt, you’re so consumed with finishing what we started that you can’t see how wrong we were for each other at the beginning! This is so much bigger than a bike race or climbing to the top of a mountain! Quitting us isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s admitting we deserve a better, more fulfilling adventure.”

  “We’re not wrong!”

  His resistance is killing me, but I can’t back down now.

  “If I go back to Danville and pretend I’m happy for you and everyone else, what we have together won’t get better. It’ll get a hell of a lot worse, and I love you too much to end up in a hateful place. Can’t you give me credit for being strong enough to prevent that from happening?”

  “If you move out of our house, the only thing I’ll give you credit for being is a quitter.”

  If I really were a quitter I’d tear up my new lease and go back home.

  Hard as this is, I’m NOT gonna quit myself, and I’m gonna fight this battle for the both of us. In the end, he’ll give me the credit I deserve. I think.

  “Can’t you just choose to be happy?”

  “What?”

  “Stop pretending to be happy and choose to be happy.”

  Like a genie, I bend my arms out in front of me, place my hands on opposite elbows and snap my head downward.

  “Zoinks! Nope, still not happy. God, Kurt, my emotional state can’t be switched on or off like a lamp, and what brought me to this point wasn’t the result of a minor occurrence that I can choose to ignore.”

  “I’m so sick of talking about bad stuff all the time. I just want to be happy and enjoy life with a wife that TOLD ME she wanted the same things as me.”

  “I tried to want the same things as you, but it’s not who I am. This, the woman standing in front of you, this is who I am and you don’t like her. You want her to go away, and you want me to keep on pretending. I’m sorry, I’m just not gonna do that anymore.”

  “I knew I should’ve made you stop seeing that therapist.”

  “You think Dr. Maria’s to blame for this? Give me some credit, Kurt! This separation isn’t a result of what a therapist told me to do! Maybe if you had continued to see Dr. Maria…”

  “I don’t need a total stranger to explain my life to me.”

  “Oh my God, you are so damaged! I can’t do this anymore! I can’t spend another year, another month, ANOTHER DAY, hoping you’ll get it.”

  “What’s ‘it?’”

  “It…it’s…everything!”

  “You’re losing your mind.”

  “No I’m not! And please wipe that patronizing smirk off your face.

  My God, Kurt, look where I brought you! Listen to what I’m telling you!”

  “I am listening, and it’s never gonna happen, you’re not moving here.”

  “Yes I am.” And then it’s my turn to take steps towards him. “Kurt, you’re not afraid of losing me, you’re just afraid of losing. I wish so badly it was the other way around. I’ve prayed for it to be the other way around, but it’s not. I can’t hope for something that’s never gonna happen, and you can’t tell me what to do anymore. I’m moving out. It’s over.”

  Admitting that to him… to myself… hurt more than I ever could’ve anticipated. His smirk is gone, and he’s silent.

  “It’s my fault we’re standing here now, and I’m more sorry for that than you’ll ever know. But I have to get my life back, and I need this cottage to help me do that.”

  “But we can…”

  “No we can’t, Kurt. How we were worked for us for a really long time, but so many unfortunate things happened, or maybe it was that so many essential things didn’t happen…I don’t know, but either way, I don’t get us anymore. We don’t make sense to me and I’m tired of trying to figure it all out. I just want to move into this cottage and rest. Please, can I rest? Can we rest? Please!”

  “Stop crying, Chrissy. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

  “But you have to know this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “I don’t see how it can’t.”

  I want him to be proud of my persistence. I want him to be grateful for my strength. I want him to be apologetic for not worshipping the woman I am. But he’s not, he’s pissed.

  “I’m not a quitter, Chrissy. If you move in here, it’s all on you.”

  I can argue the ownership of “it” until I’m blue in the face, but I choose not to anymore. I’m willing to take one for the team.

  “I’m moving in here this weekend. It’s time you told your family.”

  I try to be strong and stand up for myself

  I try to speak up with the words that don’t come out

  Does anyone know this heart of mine?

  This heart of mine…

  (This Heart of Mine, Ashley Chambliss)

  Superstar

  November, 1998

  When I backed the U-Haul into our driveway on Saturday morning, Kurt still hadn’t told his family about our situation. I struggled with being deeply concerned about his denial, but fought the urge to question him by channeling Dr. Maria’s words of wisdo
m that I only have the power to control myself, and I forged on with the move. Together, Kurt and I loaded up all of the guest room furniture and everything from my closet and, like the superstar he is, Kurt did it all with a smile and a whistle. Every time we passed each other in the hallway, I wanted to slap the smile off of his face and scream at him to feel something. When we clumsily carried the mattress out to the truck, I wanted to beg him to stop joking about it and comprehend the seriousness of it. When we shared a beer after the work was done, I wanted to feel like he cared about what he was losing, but all it felt like was that he was thirsty.

  Every therapist and self-help book says that once a spouse moves out of the house, the marriage is over, the mover-outer has officially given up. If Kurt knew this, I wonder if he would’ve been whistling. I doubt it, and so it makes me think he thinks I’m coming back. I used to want to protect that side of him, the side that’s oblivious to pain, bad and negative, but not anymore. I only have the capacity to protect myself now, and I need all the protection I can get because my heart actually breaks. And so, after two hours of oddly impressive teamwork, I said goodbye. Like a kid going off to college, Kurt gave me a kiss on the forehead, told me to be safe, and to call him when I got home. As I sat idling in the driveway, we locked eyes and for a second I thought something deep might come out of it. But I was wrong. He glanced at his watch as if I had already taken up too much of his time, shook his head, and let out a condescending chuckle accompanied by his infamous half smile and then proceeded to close the front door on me. After I wiped away what I swore to myself would really, really, really be the last tears shed over Kurt’s indifference, I put my rig in gear and headed to Lafayette.