“You know what, Chrissy, I was gonna take the Robertson Stevens job. I even found an apartment in San Francisco that I wanted us to move into, and I was gonna take you to see it tomorrow. I wanted to start a life with you and give you everything you ever wanted because that’s what I thought you’ve already given me. But you’ve done nothing but suck away two years of my life. I changed my mind, I’m taking the Lehman job. I’m going to New York so I can be as far away from you as possible. Stay married to that guy, for all I care.”
After he slams the door, and I hear his car peel away, I fall to the floor in absolute horror. It’s over, I’ve been exposed. If it wasn’t for the hard knock at the door fifteen minutes later, I’d probably still be sitting there in shock. “Oh thank God!” I scramble to the door in a sort of half crawl jog motion and fling it open, hoping to be scooped up by Leo and carried to my bed.
“This little marriage hiatus you’ve been on is over. We’re packing this place up tomorrow, and you’re coming home so we can actually try to put this relationship back together.”
Deflated, exhausted, and crushed, I close my eyes and exhale when I address him .
“I am home, Kurt.”
“Goddamn it, would you stop this already!”
“I have an attorney, and if you want to end this amicably, she’s willing to represent both of us. I’ll have her draw up the papers and you can decide what you want to do after you read them. Good night.”
I slump down the back of the closed door and similar to what some say happens in death, the happiest moments that I shared with Kurt and Leo start to flash through my mind. The visions are a jumbled mess, but each one is as crystal clear as the pain I feel in my heart right now: my first official date to the ice cream parlor with Kurt when I was sixteen, sitting on the barstool next to Leo the night I met him, getting the keys to my first dilapidated home with Kurt, standing in the rain searching for Leo the day after I met him, my first camping trip with Kurt, making out with Leo at The Sweetwater Saloon, the day at the beach when Kurt asked me to marry him, the trip to Banana Republic when Leo bought me my ring, the day Kurt and I got our dog, the night I completely gave myself to Leo, my beautiful wedding day, slamming into Leo at The Red Devil Lounge, the first time I held Kurt’s hand, when Leo’s hand reached out to grab his college diploma.
“I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay.”
I crawl over to the two glasses of champagne I poured an hour ago.
“Here’s to goodbye.”
Tomorrow’s gonna hurt real bad.
Ouchy
August, 1999
Not only did the day after the double break-up hurt real bad, but so has every day after that, especially the week after Leo’s graduation when we were supposed to be in Mexico. I showed up at the airport hoping he had decided to forgive me, but he hadn’t. I boarded the plane and spent the next five days at the Palmilla Resort crying myself to death in front of the bartender named Cornelio, or was it Cordero? Who cares, I don’t even think he understood a word I was saying and it wasn’t the language barrier that got in the way either; it was the babbling baby talk made even more unclear by the never-ending cascade of tears streaming down my face.
I’ve been back on Dr. Maria’s couch more times than I’ve had the cash in my pocket to pay for, and sometimes we don’t even talk, I just don’t want to cry alone anymore. My job satisfaction is at an all-time low, I hate everyone there, and I hate getting up in the morning to face them. They’re all selfish savages that suck what little amount of life I have left in me. Most days it seems like the only thing I have the energy to do is lift a wine glass. The only good news I have to share is that I finally met with my attorney to get the ball rolling on the divorce.
Confirmation of Leo’s move to New York came when I hacked into his voicemail and heard a lovely message from Taddeo. In it he said he’d pick Leo up at the airport on July nineteenth at five in the evening, show him “their” place, and then hit the town for a night of “debauchery.”
The message was topped off with a nice big BLEHHHHH. I can only imagine the debauchery; it makes those two bar hopping gutter sluts he was with at the Red Devil Lounge seem like a couple of nuns. I do my best to shake off the sick thoughts of Leo sleeping with other women in New York City by almost doing it myself. Yes, to numb my pain, I’ve turned into quite the Courtney Love party girl these days, even traveling to Los Angeles to hang out with Mark, the tatted-up defense attorney.
For security reasons, I brought Slutty Co-worker with me to L.A. During the day, we lunched at The Ivy where she made a fool out of herself gawking at celebrities, and I drank myself into oblivion. Then at night, we partied our asses off in the V.I.P. section of The Viper Room. No waiting in line for anything. Mark is super dialed in and hangs with people that I’m fairly certain I see every night on Entertainment Tonight. Normally his posse would scare the crap out of me, but the massive amounts of alcohol I now consume makes me comfy cozy around pretty much anyone. It’s like I’m one with the Playboy bunnies and drug dealers we sit amongst. I’m not the fun kind of party girl, though. I’m the sarcastic one who drinks as much as she can to forget about what a mess her life has turned into. But, drunk or not, my intentions for going to Los Angeles were clear. Do the things with boys that Leo’s doing with girls.
“Can I get you another vodka tonic?”
I can’t tell if Mark has one head or two or if it’s even him I’m staring at for that matter.
“I’ll take four.”
“You’re cute, you know that?”
“Yep.”
“Dance with me.”
The last time I danced was with Leo at The Red Devil Lounge.
He held me so close. He smelled so good. I NEED MY DRUGS!!!!!!
Shake it off, girl!
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
“Come on, I won’t hurt you.”
You can’t.
Mark pulls me to my feet and out to the dance floor where he wraps his neon dragon painted arms around my waist. This doesn’t feel right. Who cares though, Chrissy, just be a guy! Think of how many times Leo’s probably done this since he went away. Oh my God, I want to kill someone right now! Shake it off!
“Are you okay?”
“Just a little tipsy, I guess.”
“Are you too tipsy to feel this?”
And then there it was, my first skanky unfamiliar kiss. Granted I didn’t know Leo very long before I kissed him, only a few hours. But it was as if I knew him my entire life. This feels dreadful.
“I’m sorry, Mark, I can’t. You’re an incredible guy…”
Sorta.
“But, my mind is elsewhere these days, and I can’t do this.”
“It’s cool. Maybe I’ll do something throughout the night to make you change your mind.”
And by that he meant buying me drink after drink and repeatedly trying to kiss me. Once I had enough of his machine gun style kissing tactics, Slutty Co-worker and I excused ourselves to go to the bathroom and never returned. That was the last time I ever saw Mark. But sadly, it wasn’t the last time I attempted a skanky unfamiliar kiss.
About a month after the Viper Room incident, Slutty Co-worker and I were back at Buckley’s searching for a way for me to get back at Leo. And boy, did we find one. Well actually, we found five. Five guys from the Cal football team. Amazingly, I managed to hook up with a guy even younger than Leo. This, if my memory serves me, means the next most unlikely event to occur is that the Oakland Raiders will go to the playoffs.
My guy, who was the quarterback, invited Slutty Co-worker and me back to his parent’s house (yeah, you read that correctly) for a late night BBQ and make-out extravaganza. Apparently he was “house sitting,” but truth be told, I wouldn’t have cared if his mom were standing in the kitchen with milk and cookies. I wanted pay back for what my mind had convinced me Leo was doing. I no longer cared about the all-important emotional connection, and I was willing to suffer the day-after reperc
ussions of my actions and get dirty with the guy.
“Hey, let’s go in your old bedroom.”
“Uhhhhh, my mom turned it into a scrapbooking room.”
“God, that’s gay. All right then, let’s go to her room.”
About half way down the hall, I grab QB’s belt loop, yank him towards me, and mack on him hard. I think he’s cute. Pull away, get another look of the face, good enough, dive back in. Damn it, if Leo’s doing it, why shouldn’t I? This isn’t about pleasure, it’s about retribution!
I grab at his pants and pull him to the floor, and the kisses are flying everywhere as the dry humping commences. Wowie, his stomach is as rock hard as a twenty-one –year- old football player’s…oh wait!
“Are you sure we should do this? How about if we go out tomorrow night and get to know each other better?”
“Dude, isn’t that what a girl would say?”
“I know, but I don’t want to blow it. You’re just so pretty and stuff.
I’d like to get to know you and…”
“How about we do this first and get to know each other later?”
“Are you serious, you wanna have sex?”
“No, you’re right, let’s just cuddle.”
“Wait, are you being serious about that?”
“No, dumbass, I’m not being serious about cuddling! Come on, let’s just have some fun, can you do that?”
“Hell yeah, but…you just seem so nice. Why don’t we hang out and talk for a while.”
“Man, you’re about as gay as your mom’s scrapbooking room.”
All I want to do is have sex to get back at Leo, and this guy wants to snuggle! I can’t catch a break. I grab my clothes that are strewn down the hallway and yank Slutty Co-worker off of the wide receiver’s lap. As we make our way to the car, the quarterback comes running out with his pants unzipped.
“Hey, I was serious! Will you go out with me?”
“Sure. I’ll call ya.”
As we drive off, I hear him yell out, “But you don’t have my numberrrrrrrrrrrr.”
Yesterday, after I got done telling Dr. Maria about the sexual shenanigans of Chrissy Anderson, she surprisingly had a smile on her face.
“Dr. Maria, I swear when I look in the mirror I don’t even recognize myself. I’m spinning in a million different directions at a million miles an hour, trying to escape my thoughts. But seriously…a college quarterback!? I’m making everything worse.”
“You know what the best thing about you is, Chrissy?”
“My ability to repeatedly make an ass out of myself?”
“That you know when you’re making an ass out of yourself and you know when to get help with your destructive behavior. Look, what you’re doing is perfectly normal. You just have some kinks you need to work out of your system. But you might want to cut back on the drinking and go back to the yoga. You found a lot of answers with the meditation. It’s hard to meditate when you’re drunk.”
She was right. Last night I went to yoga class, and instead of drinking a bottle of wine, I drank a bottle of water, and I slept better than I had in a long time. In the morning, I’m jolted out of my deep slumber by the pounding on my door. Leo?! Just in case, I quickly check myself in the mirror before I open the door. Deep breathe in and…
“Hi there, sign here please.”
Damn. But maybe the flowers are from him. My hands are shaking as I open the card.
Happy Birthday, Chrissy. We hope you find what you’re looking for this year.
Love, Court, Nic & Kel
Holy crap, today’s my 30th birthday. Where’s that bottle of wine I didn’t drink last night?
I know your life is empty
And you hate to face this world alone
So you’re searching for an angel
Someone who can make you whole
I cannot save you
I can’t even save myself… I am just as fucked as you
So just save yourself
(Safe Yourself, Stabbing Westward)
Reunited
October, 1999
Slutty Co-worker’s been seeing the wide receiver she met on the night of my quarterback catastrophe. I don’t think the relationship will go anywhere, but she sure is having a great time playing in his end zone. Suffice it to say, she hasn’t been as available to help me deal with my emotional mini-breakdowns as she has been in the past. And lately I’ve grown tired and broke from spending my evenings on Dr. Maria’s couch. So, per my therapist’s suggestion, I do what I should’ve done a long time ago- call my best friends. I decided to make up for being absent for so long by taking them to lunch. We hit up a restaurant in Danville because for some reason I can’t help being a masochistic freak who tortures herself by going back to her old neighborhood that reminds her of just how little progress she’s made in her pathetic life.
“Wow, how long has it been, guys?”
“Long enough for most of us to turn thirty, you…you…you friend abandoner!”
“I know, Nic, I suck. Honestly though, it was for the better. I needed to sort through everything alone.”
“Well…did you?”
“I think so.”
“And how do you feel? I mean, you look good…does that mean you feel good?”
“I feel okay. All the work with the attorney is done. Now all we have to do is just sign the papers, sell the house and split up the stuff. Of course, he still thinks I’m throwing him away and I’m a big fat quitter and all that. I swear, it’s like he’ll never really…God, I’m so sick of everything being about me! Tell me, how are you guys doing?”
Nicole and Courtney give me a quick re-cap of what I missed out on over the last nine months. Their stories are interchangeable and boring and they make me think I don’t fit in anywhere anymore. Then I realize Kelly’s paying about as much attention to the two doctors as I am. Actually, considerably less. I think she’s falling asleep.
“Kell…everything okay?”
“Oh, I’m alright, just a little tired these days. I’m starting to think I have a thyroid problem. I have an appointment with my doctor in a few weeks. Hopefully he’ll give me some pills and it’ll just go away.”
“Why haven’t you talked to me or Nic about any of this?”
“It’s no big deal, Courtney, that’s why I didn’t bother you with it.”
“What are your symptoms?”
“For crying out loud, I’m telling you, it’s no big deal.”
“Then you should be able to tell me.”
“Fine. Some abdominal pain that never really goes away, and I guess I don’t have much of an appetite. Really, I’m sure it’s nothing a pill or a really long nap won’t take care of.”
“So the abdominal pain is chronic?” Kelly looks wayyyy perturbed.
“I guess you could say that.”
Just as Kelly bends over to grab her purse, I catch Nicole give Courtney what looks like a worried look.
“Why’d you just look at each other like that? Is she okay?”
Kelly glances up and rolls her eyes while Nicole chastises me.
“Calm down, sensitive Susie! There was no look. I’m sure it is just a thyroid problem or maybe it’s hormonal. I’m not concerned, are you, Court?”
“Nope, no concern here. Don’t let Chrissy’s paranoia worry you, Kelly, you’re fine.”
Without lifting her head from her purse Kelly says, “You guys are freaks.”
During lunch, the four of us make long overdue plans to celebrate our thirtieth birthdays. We’re going to Arizona in December, the weekend Courtney officially becomes as old as us. Other than talk of our trip, the meal is tedious and uneventful. The two doctors talk about their typical confusing doctor stuff, which is usually fine, because Kelly and I spend the time gossiping about every single person we know. But this time Kelly was in no mood to talk, and it made the lunch completely blah. Finally, we hug goodbye.
Before I head back to my cottage, I make an impulsive detour and head to
my old house to say a quick hello to the dog. As I drive, I wonder if Courtney and Nicole noticed what I did, that underneath Kelly’s baggy sweater was nothing but skin and bones. It looked to me like she lost about ten or fifteen pounds since the last time I saw her. She did mention that she took up jogging…I’m sure that’s what did it, the jogging! Jesus, I’ve got to stop finding things to worry about and start enjoying my life a little bit more. Lord knows Leo’s having fun. And only the Lord would know, because soon after he left for New York, the voicemail account was shut off. The minute I realized the phone had been disconnected, I drove to his apartment and parked out front like a total stalker. I wanted to rehash the past, to pretend I was showing up unexpectedly just like I used to, to hope some miracle would happen and Leo would come bouncing out of his front door when he noticed my car. But, all of my assumptions about Leo leaving me behind to start a new life were confirmed when I saw a couple of overly pierced white trash losers stumble out of what was once my love palace.
Speaking of contaminated former love palaces…ten minutes after leaving the restaurant, I pull up to my house. Hmmmm…there’s Kurt’s truck, but whose piece of crap Audi is that?
I take a mental note of the Stanford University parking permit, the tennis racket and the bathing suit on the passenger side seat, and after almost permanently flattening my nose onto the car window, I can make out the name Kay something or other on a term paper. Kayla? The chick eho emailed him?! But this couldn’t possibly be…he wouldn’t bring a girl into our house would he?!
“Do I go in?”
Hell yeah, I go in!
“Hellooooo? Kurt…you home?”
No answer. Hold on! God, I’m so stupid! It’s not like we’re the only people who live on the street. That car must be one of our neighbor’s friends or something. Sure the marriage is as good as done, but he would never disrespect what we once shared by bringing another woman into our home. For God sakes, some of my clothes are still hanging in the closet. Our wedding picture is on the mantle, and my doggie lives here. Bringing a woman here would go against everything… HOLY HELL, IS THAT A BRA?
The Life List (The List Trilogy) Page 33
