I’m at one of my yoga studios early today because I’m helping Megan prepare for her first solo meeting with a buyer at Macy’s New York. She begged me to go with her, but I was like “Hells no, I’m not going back to that city!” We’re rolling around in laughter at my imitation of our old Hong King Kong production manager when Slutty Co-worker pokes her head in.
“I hate to interrupt the comedy act but your friend Courtney’s on the phone for you.”
It took me forty-five minutes to get to Stanford Medical Center and an hour and forty-five minutes to locate Kelly’s room. The place is like a labyrinth of sickness, disease, and seriousness. I hate it here.
“Jesus Christ, what took you so long?”
“I got lost. Tell me what’s going on.”
Kelly was admitted to the hospital two days ago because of Craig’s inability to control her pain and persistent vomiting. He’s taken such good care of her for almost a year, but in the last month, the cancer has become more obsessed with her body. No matter how many pills he gave her, he couldn’t fight its fury.
“Where is he?”
Courtney and Nicole point to Craig, who’s standing with a small group of doctors. He looks ten years older than the last time I saw him.
“Where are you going?”
“To be with him.”
“Are you sure you should be doing that? His mom said he wants to be alone.”
I snap back, “Jesus, when are the two of you gonna stop listening to directions and start listening to your hearts?”
I walk over and stand by Craig. To be honest, I’m a little nervous to disobey his mom’s orders, but when he grabs my hand for support as the doctor’s finish giving him an update, I’m satisfied with my decision. When the doctors split away, he turns to me.
“She was in so much pain.” Then in a whisper, “I thought I had more time.” Looking directly at me but talking into space, “They said she had at least three weeks left…they were off by two. I should’ve done more… said more.”
“She knows what you wanted to say, Craig, and you also know Kelly has to do this on her terms. When they said three weeks left, she probably said to herself, ‘I’ll be the one to decide how much time I have.’”
“The pain was so bad. She wanted to take a bath… thought it might help. She asked me to get in with her and hold her, but I didn’t. Goddamn it… Why didn’t get in with her? The house was a mess, the baby was fussy, and I was so damn tired, Chrissy. But why did I let those things matter? Why didn’t I get in with her?”
I always have something to say, a story to tell, a joke to make a bad situation not so bad, but there’s nothing you can say or do for someone in Craig’s shoes. The only thing you can do is hold them and let them cry out their sorrow for however long it takes. This is what true friends are for. So for two days, Courtney, Nicole, and I camp out in one of the special rooms dedicated for families of people who are about to die. We take turns delivering coffee and making food runs for Craig, his parents, and Kelly’s mom. We do our very best to support them while they cry out their sorrow, and when they aren’t looking, we hold each other while we cry out our own.
On the eve of day two, after making sure everyone has had enough to eat, I sneak out of the special room and make my way down the hall to Kelly. The hospital staff has been very clear that only Craig and immediate family members are allowed in her room and Kelly couldn’t have been clearer the entire time she was sick that she didn’t want me to see her in a weakened state. Never one to follow the rules, which Kelly should know better than anyone else, I tip-toe inside.
I’d be a wreck if what I was looking at were something that came close to resembling my best friend, Kelly, but what I’m looking at is only a container for the minuscule amount of organs that wearily pulsate underneath her thin skin. My strong Kelly is no more. As far as I’m concerned, Kelly is no more. Looking at her now, I know exactly why she didn’t wait three more weeks. She’s had enough. She’s not hooked up to very many things, just one IV that I assume is morphine. She was always a pale girl, not one to lie in the sun or go to a tanning salon. Probably the only thing we didn’t have in common. But she’s not what I would call pale anymore. She’s yellow, but not sunflower yellow. It’s more like yellow watercolor paint has been spread over her translucent body. Some areas painted more than others, but her entire body covered in some shade of yellow. Her hair and eyebrows are completely gone and tiny blood encrusted pinholes are scattered all over her visible skin. One enormously swollen leg is poking out of the blanket, and it doesn’t look like it could possibly be connected to her frail face and arms. No, this is not Kelly. My Kelly is already somewhere else. I’m somewhere else, too. Rain is pounding on the window. The sound of it along with Kelly’s soft breathing and the rhythmic beat of the machines that are hooked up to her create an almost tranquil feeling within me. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll be with Kelly again one day, and the joyful feeling takes me by total surprise. I put my hand on her hand and through my tears whisper, “Keep in touch, Kel,” before I reach into my pocket and place one last letter in her hand. Over the last two days, I’ve written about ten different self-serving letters, but ended up scrapping all of them and simply went with:
Hey Mama, Give my grandpa a giant hug when you see him. You’ll recognize him, he’s the exhausted one. If you don’t mind, can you act as my angel for a while? That guy needs a break! He had no idea how high maintenance I was, but you…you know exactly what you’re in for, and you’re young enough to handle it. Oh, and you know I love you, Kel, but I hope I don’t have to see you anytime in the near future. Whatever you can do up there to make sure I stay down here a lot longer would be greatly appreciated. I’m starting to feel whole. I love you, Me
After I kiss her cold forehead, I walk to the hospital chapel and beg my grandpa to put Kelly out of her misery. Three hours later, she died.
After (preposition) af*ter:
Following in time or place or position
I can hear us laughing
I remember every part
I’ve got everything we ever did
It’s tattooed on my heart…
Until the summer brings you back,
You know you got a piece of my heart
(Piece of My Heart, Keri Noble)
Fading
March, 2001
The weeks following Kelly’s death were a total blur. There was the funeral, followed by my impromptu healing trip to Mexico with Courtney and Nicole. When I got back from that, I focused all of my time and attention on the two most important things in my life: my job and Kelly’s child, my God daughter. For the last month, I’ve dedicated nearly every night and weekend to that little girl. I take her for long walks in her stroller, to the grocery store to stock up on food, and out for ice cream so that Craig can have some much needed time to himself. It’s bittersweet that she’s still a baby. She’s too young to realize the loss of her mother…and it’s a shame that she can’t. She’ll never know how truly and amazingly, smart, funny and beautiful she was.
I’m grateful for the distraction that my yoga studios and the baby provide to me. Every minute of every day has an important and fulfilling purpose that I spring out of bed to tackle. Since Mexico, there has been no time for tears, and with each new day, things become less and less blurry.
Today is my first day back to how things were before Kelly died. I’m pulling into Dr. Maria’s parking lot for the last time. We’ve had several phone conversations, but I haven’t sat on her couch since August. I’ve been too busy applying the things I learned on it, to real life. As sad as I am to say good-bye to her, I’m anxious to get on with my new therapy-free life.
Everything at our session is going along exactly how I expected it to, until Dr. Maria invited me to listen to the frantic message I left on her machine three years ago. I thought for a long time before I responded to her invitation. Would it bring back bad memories that I had worked so hard to put behind me, or woul
d I be proud of how far I’ve come? I bet on my new self that it would be the latter, and opted to listen.
When Dr. Maria got done playing the recording of the voicemail, I buried my head in my hands.
“Holy Moley, what a friggin’ mess!”
“You got that right.”
“I can’t believe you actually agreed to help a nutcase like me.”
“It’s my honor… well that and I was dying to hear the steamy scoop on the boy who stole your heart.”
“Oh, so now the truth comes out!”
We share our next to last laugh before I get serious.
“It’s crazy, Dr. Maria.”
“What is?”
“How you think your life is one way, so set and moving along exactly like you planned and then something so unexpected, so unplanned happens that it turns everything upside down.”
“Or like you mentioned a long time ago, turns it right-side up.”
“Right…And I can honestly say that things have never felt so right-side up.”
“So does that mean you’re ready to start dating again?”
She’d probably commit me to an insane asylum if she knew I’ve been holding my breath since his phone call after the funeral and that my heart’s been racing all day wondering if he’ll actually show up tonight.
“You know me, if something comes along that feels right, I’ll jump on it…literally!”
I stand to say good-bye. I love her so much for everything she’s done for me, and I hope my hug tells her so. She tells me to drop by if I ever need her, and I tell her as much as I want to see her again, I hope I never have to and the most she should expect from me is a yearly Christmas card. Three years and thirty minutes later, I close the door to her office for the last time. It certainly has been a year of good-byes.
On the way to my car, I see Sad Frumpy Lady standing beside hers searching for her keys. I feel pulled in her direction, and on my way over to her I mumble up to Kelly, “What are you about to make me do, woman!?”
As I get closer, I zero in on what it was that caught my attention from across the parking lot. “Excuse me, can you tell me where you bought that crochet bag?”
Startled that someone’s actually talking to her, it takes her a few seconds and a couple of throat clearing coughs before she answers me.
“Oh this…I made this a very long time ago.”
“It’s beautiful. I think it would make an excellent bag to carry my yoga mat around in.”
She looks down at her old handbag in a way that stirs up memories.
“I guess it would.”
“Do you still crochet?”
“No. It’s been a long time.”
“That’s too bad, you do wonderful work.” Making my way back to my car, I suddenly stop, whirl back around, and ask her, “Hey, if I wanted to buy twenty or so of those bags would you be willing to start crocheting again?”
It’s as if I asked her to go to the moon.
“Are you serious?”
“As serious as therapy.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you need that many bags for?”
“I own a couple of yoga studios, and I think the ladies would love that bag. So… what do you think?”
“I suppose I could make them. I would need some time and some materials but… yes, I think I can do it.”
“Perfect! I won’t be coming here anymore, gonna try to go it alone for a while, but would you like to come to one of my studios later in the week? I can show you around, even offer you some intro classes if you’re interested.”
“Yoga? Oh I don’t think so.”
“That’s exactly what I used to say!”
“Really, what made you finally try it?”
“A magazine article convinced me it would change my life.”
“Did it?”
Not wanting to scare her away, but wanting to be as authentic as possible, I walk a little closer to her.
“I think the combination of this place, yoga, and the loss of my best friend changed my life. Sometimes it takes more than one thing to get us back on course. At least in my case it did.”
I can tell I’m making her consider the unfathomable.
“I haven’t exercised in years.”
“Then yoga will be perfect for you!”
“I wouldn’t even know what to wear.”
“Not a problem, I can set you up.”
“I wouldn’t know anyone; I’d feel like such a fool.”
“Not true, you know me.” Extending my hand out to her, “I’m Chrissy Anderson, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
Taking my hand like she’s almost afraid I’ll snap it in half, “I’m Barbara Cooper, nice to meet you too.”
After giving Sad Frumpy Lady, I mean Barbara, the address to the studio and probably her first smile in almost twelve years, I set off to the cemetery to meet Courtney and Nicole. It’s been exactly one month since Kelly died, and we decided to mark the occasion by sitting on top of her and drinking some beer. I’m gonna limit myself to two though; I don’t want to be bloated in case I have a date.
“After Mexico I never thought I’d drink again!”
“Gimme a break, Nicole! You had three Bloody Mary’s on the flight home!”
With cold beers in hand, and, of course, one for Kelly that’s strategically placed on top of her tombstone, we roll around the grass in laughter. We miss her so much, but we agreed to leave our tears behind in Mexico. The last thing Kelly wanted us to do while she was alive was cry for her, and so, out of respect for her and what’s left of our own lives, we try to laugh as much as possible.
“Do you think she can see us?”
“Unfortunately for her, yes! Girl can’t even get away from us in
Heaven! She’s our angel, guys.”
“Come on, Chrissy, you don’t really believe that do you?”
“I absolutely believe it! Crap, if it wasn’t for her, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have a date tonight.”
“DATE!?”
“I think the two of you just woke up the dead.” I stand, give Kelly’s tombstone a little tap with my booty, and blow it a kiss as I make my way back to my car.
“Yes, a date, and I’m late, so let’s get outta here.”
Even though the two of them threatened me with my own death if I didn’t tell them who my date was with, I didn’t cave in. I need to see where this goes before I take them, Dr. Maria, or anyone else down this road again.
He called right after Kelly died. Said he was worried about me and wanted to make sure I was okay. We didn’t talk about what happened to us, only about what happened to Kelly. He expressed his concern for Craig and the baby, and we talked for a long time about how their sadness makes any of our own seem insignificant. Then at the end of the conversation, he asked me out on a date. It was the first time in my life that a man formally asked me out to dinner, and even though it felt like it might be the beginning of my real life fairytale, I expressed reservations. I thought he had moved on, and I was trying to, too. Maybe it was best to leave it at that. But he asked me to trust him, believe in him, and because it’s all I ever wanted to do since the day we met, I agreed to go on a date with him. That was three weeks ago, and I haven’t heard from him since. And as I drive down the highway, music blaring, I begin to wonder if he’ll even show up. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he wants to hurt me, like I hurt him. Not his style, but I really did fuck the guy up.
It’s an absolutely beautiful evening, one you wouldn’t typically expect in March, and in celebration, I turn the music even louder and open the sunroof. The song on the radio takes me back to times spent with Kelly, then Kurt, then Leo, and then back again. The memories are a beautiful mixed up swirl of the best and worst of what I shared with each of them, and they’re bittersweet. I’m glad I have them but also exhausted from holding onto them so tightly for fear of fading. Usually my trip down memory lane makes me cry, but for once, thoughts of the three of them don’t hav
e that effect on me. Maybe it’s because I want to look fresh for my date, not sure. But what I am sure of is all of the wonderful things my experiences with Kelly, Kurt, and Leo have taught me about myself. Like that I’m stronger, more beautiful, and more courageous than I ever thought I was or gave myself credit for being. And although consciously grueling at times, I put everything my experiences with them taught me to practical use every single day. Whether I’m trying to give my best friend’s eulogy, secure a line of credit with my bank to expand my business, or attempt a really challenging yoga pose, there’s something that I learned from my time with each of them that gets me through the tough parts of every single day of my life. It’s a constant “if I got through that, then I can get through this” conversation with myself. It’s a choice to approach life this way. It’s that or turn into a Sad Frumpy Lady. And, I admit, some days it’s a very slippery slope.
At the stoplight next to my cottage, I look up through my sunroof and into the freshly stardusted sky.
“Hey, girl, I know you had everything to do with this date tonight. That being the case, can you make sure it’s a good one? I’ve come too far to be back at square one with all the heartache and crap. Kelly, I know you know that I’m still madly in love with him, and I know you know that despite my la-di-da attitude about going on a date with him, I’m praying it’s the last first date I ever have in my life. If you have any pull up there, can you make that be the case? Thanks. Oh, and tell my grandpa I said hello!”
As I pull into my parking space, I give the sky one last long look as my sunroof closes. Silently, I thank Kel, Kurt, and Leo for the memories I shared with them, and I make a wish for the new ones I hope to make tonight.
The Life List (The List Trilogy) Page 41
