Panic
May, 1998
Well I certainly won’t be winning any conviction awards any time soon. And I probably won’t be getting any freedom anytime soon, either. My weak moment at the reunion triggered all kinds of optimism. Optimism amongst my friends that Kurt and I are gonna work things out, and optimism in Kurt that we’re not nearly as damaged as I portrayed us to be at our therapy session.
I miss Leo so much. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him because Kurt’s been ON FIRE with optimism and planned all kinds of fun little activities to keep me nice and busy. He took me on a gondola ride at Lake Merritt in Oakland. That f*cking sucked. He took me on a boat ride to Alcatraz in San Francisco. That f*cking sucked. He took me to an outdoor bizarre in Berkley. That really f*cking sucked. But, the thing that sucked the most about all of it was my inability to tell him it all sucked. Tell me, how do you tell someone who’s trying their very best to please you to stop? No seriously…tell me!
No matter what activity Kurt drags me off to, I’m always on the lookout for Leo, and my hand is always on the car door handle. I put myself in these imaginary heart- wrenching scenario’s where Kurt and I stumble into Leo as we’re holding hands, pretending to be happy. Leo demands answers, Kurt starts swinging punches, Leo starts kicking the shit out of Kurt. Both of them are expecting me to side with one or the other but there’s no way I can root for or against either of them. I love them both. Sometimes, on the way to the activities, I feel like pulling the car door handle when we’re on the freeway going 70mph so I don’t have to put myself through the torture.
I told Leo I was in Chicago last week to give myself some breathing room, but I was really in Dallas. Why, you might ask? Because two weeks ago, when I couldn’t see him due to obligations with Kurt, I lied and told him I had to go to Dallas for work. Then, when I really did have to go to Dallas, I told him I was in Chicago because he’d probably think it was strange that I was in Dallas two weeks in a row. Or maybe he wouldn’t, but do you see the paranoia I’m dealing with here?! I don’t even need to lie about some of the things I lie about, but I can’t keep track of which of the honest bits of my days I tell to either of them, so I keep on making stuff up. And when my stories don’t add up, I play dumb. Or worse, I make them feel like they’re the ones losing their mind. Note to anyone considering the arduous task of adultery and the mini-tasks associated with it like lying and manipulating: It’s not the cheating that makes you a sicko. What makes you a sicko is the lies you deliberately tell without regard for how insane you might make other people.
And the lying is just the tip of the iceberg. Try managing a boyfriend and a husband who live twenty minutes apart! It’s much more difficult than I ever could’ve imagined, and I don’t recommend it for the faint of heart. Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo and Kurt took me disco bowling in Danville with Nicole and her husband, Kyle. Let’s pause for a moment and reflect on Kurt’s poignant effort. I don’t like disco, and I don’t like bowling, and I HATE the shoes you have to wear to do it in, and he should know ALL of that after twelve years together. I can’t wait for our next therapy session together when Dr. Maria gives him two snaps for his effort and then I dive bomb him with all of the reasons why taking me bowling was the stupidest idea in the world. I digress…sorry about that. Anyway, I suppose the bright side of the evening was that I got to spend some time with Nicole. At first Kurt suggested we go on “the date” alone, but I convinced him to bring along another couple and there were two big reasons why.
1) I can’t be alone with Kurt. He might try and get romantic, and I can’t have that. I’m already cheating enough.
2) If we run into Leo or one of his cronies, I’ll DEFINITELY need someone to help me diffuse the situation. Nic’s the best person to do that.
Out of my three best friends, Nicole’s the only one I’d consider telling the secret of my affair to. She’s the only one who can sort of relate to what I’m doing. You see, pre-nuptial Nic and her husband Kyle screwed around with other people and were involved in enough overly dramatic break-ups to put Alison and Billy from Melrose Place to shame! If I ever got caught, or God forbid, had to confess to having an affair, she has her own prior experiences to draw from to try and make mine not seem so bad. Okay, obviously I’m a much bigger pig than her, but I know she’d at least try to make me feel better. That’s what makes her so great. And, thank God, I insisted that my little swine friend go bowling, because #2 on my list of reasons to have her with me crept up and smacked me real hard on the ass and not in a good way like you see on the Spice Channel.
“You guys want another Corona? Me and Kyle are gonna go get another round.”
“Si, dos por favor.”
“God, Nicole, you’re so stupid.”
“Geez girl, why such a bitch these days?”
I wait to respond until I’m sure the guys are out of earshot.
“Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind these days. There’s all that weird stuff going on between Kurt and me, and work is really stressing me out. I’m always on edge.”
“Just chill and try to have some fun. It’s Cinco de Mayo, baby! Besides, you and Kurt just hit a rough patch. You guys will work it all out.”
“I’m not so…”
Like a shot of lightning, Nicole hits my arm and points to the bar.
“Hey look, isn’t that the girl you were talking to at the restaurant a few months ago? The one with the really great hair?”
“What? Where?!”
“Talking to Kurt and Kyle! Look, she and her friends are… WAIT!
Are they hitting on our husbands!?”
“Holy crap, that’s Megan!” “How do you know her?”
“She’s the reason why I’m always on edge these days. Well not her exactly, but kinda her.”
“What the F are you talking about, Chrissy?”
“Omigod, omigod, omigod! I can’t let her see me! I’m going to the bathroom! When the guys get back with the beers, meet me in there.”
Hurry!”
Five minutes later Nicole bursts into my stall.
“Spill it!”
“Okay, don’t freak. I cheated on Kurt.”
“Chrissy, nooooooooo!”
“I know, I know, I’m going to Hell. But listen to me, Nic, I need your help right now. My life is already knee deep in doo-doo, but if that girl sees me here with Kurt, I’m gonna be covered in it.”
“Who the hell is she?”
“Leo’s friend.” “Who’s Leo?”
“Leonardo DiCaprio.”
“Are you serious?”
“No dumbass, just LEO! The guy I’ve been…”
“Oh, that’s his name? Is he cute?”
“Not the time, Nic!”
“Shit, sorry. When did all of this start?”
I explain to Nicole how I met Leo at a bar, and it was never my intention to continue to see him past that one night, but for reasons that I don’t have time to explain, I keep getting lured back to him. I tell her that I still love Kurt, but I’ve fallen in love with Leo, and that Megan also loves Leo, but Leo told her to take a hike to protect me, and now I bet she’ll do whatever she can to ruin my engagement.
“I’m confused. What engagement?”
“Oi vey, Leo doesn’t know I’m married. He thinks I’m engaged. Actually, he thinks I was engaged, but I broke off the engagement so that he’d see me again, but she doesn’t know that and…Jesus, this is the first time I’ve said it all out loud and it all sounds ridiculous.”
“No, you sound like a f*cking freak. I get the slip up okay, shit happens, divorce happens. But all that other stuff is just plain crazy, girl.”
“Crucify me later, Nic. Right now we need to figure out what we’re gonna do.”
“What we’re gonna do?”
“Nicole! Are you seriously gonna let my marriage implode IN A BOWLING ALLY?”
“All right, all right! What do you want me to do?”
“Once we go back out there, spill all of the beers on the floor. You would’ve done it anyway.”
“All of them?”
“Yeah, knock ‘em all down. The bigger the mess, the better. Break shit if you have to.”
She’s looking at me like I’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind.
“Okay Einstein, and then what?”
“You preoccupy the guys with the mess, and I’ll run to the bar to get napkins. I have to tell that girl to get outta here before she ruins everything for me!”
After a few minutes of strategizing, followed by some bottle breaking, I sneak over to Megan.
“Hi. Remember me?”
Twirling around and faking shock, Megan’s beady little blue eyes glare at me like she knows she’s got me by the balls.
“Of course I remember you, Chrissy. You’re the one that’s completely mind f*cking my friend.” Peering over my shoulder, she groans. “Wow, just how many guys are you dating…or marrying?”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“It’s exactly what it looks like. I might be young, but I’m not stupid.”
Who is he?”
“My brother.”
Turning to her friends, “Any of you guys ever kiss your brother when you bowl a strike?”
F*ck. I wanted this to go peacefully, but it looks like the bowling gloves are gonna have to come off.
“Megan, I need you and your friends to leave. Now.”
“You leave. No, even better, let’s call Leo right now and tell him what’s going on.”
F*ck! F*ck!
“I’m pretty sure he told you never to call him again.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure he’d appreciate this call.”
F*ck! F*ck! F*ck!
“Before you do something really stupid, Megan, I think you should consider what I do for a living.”
It’s a stretch, but I’m backed into a corner here.
“Oh, puleez!”
“From what I hear, you’re quite the aspiring little fashion designer!”
“Like, what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Like, unless you wanna use that hundred thousand dollar college education of yours to like sew sample garments in like Laos or some f*cked off place like that, then I’d think long and hard about what your gonna do right now. I know people, Megan. Lots and lots of people, and I’ll make the first few years of that little career of yours a freaking shit show if you don’t leave, NOW!”
I dodged a huge bullet last night. I never would’ve had the cover to run Megan out of the bowling alley if Nicole didn’t make the most obnoxious mess all over lane 7. I cancelled my therapy session tonight and invited Nicole over for wine so we could rehash the events of last night, and we laughed until we got side cramps. But before she left my house, she got serious and told me she’s not comfortable carrying around my big secret, and she made me swear to tell Courtney and Kelly about it. I begged her for some time to come clean, but she said she’d only give me till next week when we meet them for lunch. As much as I dread telling my judge and jury, I need help strapping myself to the table. So before Nicole leaves, I assure her that I’ll spill the beans about my affair. It’ll be an ass kicking but one I deserve. I want to call Leo the second she’s gone, but I can’t. There’s not enough time before Kurt gets home. I’m just gonna have to miss him instead. And I do. I miss him all the time.
Kurt’s supposed to arrive home any minute from having spent the afternoon kayaking with clients. I take a break from missing Leo to roll my eyes about that. Does everything have to be so outdoorsy all the time? I plop down on my bed and stare at a picture of him surfing. I suppose a lot of women might find Kurt’s escapades sexy, but they do nothing for me. I’m almost scared of the day he finds the woman who truly appreciates him for who he is. It’ll be the day he realizes he wasted the last twelve years on me. I put the picture down, walk to the window to look for his car, and sigh. I’m pre-frustrated about having to fake interest in his day in order to avoid an argument, and I’m pre-irritated that he’s gonna make me feel like I wasted a perfectly good night farting around with Nicole. He’ll tell me I should’ve gone for a brisk evening walk or stained an end table or some bullshit thing like that.
I daydream for a minute about what it would be like if Leo was my husband and he was the one about to walk through the door. He’d hug me and kiss my neck before he even put his keys down. I’d have something grilling away on the BBQ and a glass of wine waiting for him and we’d compare notes about how much we missed each other during the day as we made our way to the couch. He’d lift my feet onto his lap and rub them while he re-capped his day and I’d ohhh and ahhh over his investment banker sexiness. He’d marvel at how pretty the house and I look, and he’d convince me to quit my job because, what the heck, I’m gonna do it anyway once we have kids. Then his hand would travel up my thigh, underneath my skirt…
The dog barks, and it snaps me out of dreamland and into pissed-off-ville. In order for any of that stuff to happen, I have to do a lot of really confusing and unpardonable shit to Kurt and I have to admit a lot of really confusing and unpardonable crap to Leo. How can I possibly? Where will I find the courage? I mean, I literally have to destroy lives to get what I want, and I’ll have to admit so many mistakes. Most days it seems easier to live like Francesca than do all of that. I don’t have the answers to anything anymore. The only thing I know how to do is continue to lie until hopefully, God willing, the answers to all of my questions come to me or…my friends inject me with a huge dose of truth serum when I strap myself to the table next week.
I start to pace the house like a caged zoo animal because I’m overwhelmed with the barrage of questions that constantly fire away in my head. The what-ifs and the what happens nexts…they never go away and they never get answered. On the outside, I look like I’m in complete control, but really I live in a state of perpetual confusion. I decide to do the only thing I can think of to prevent myself from having a nervous breakdown. I start a journal. I must really be losing my mind because I always thought journals were for total pansies and whackos. I guess I’m both of those things now.
I start writing about the lies. Out of all the horrible things penetrating my brain, the lies are what cause me the most angst. A journal documenting all of them might help me see the error of my ways. If not that, it will definitely help me remember what I tell everybody.
There’s the most recent Dallas/Chicago lie. There’s the lie to Kurt about staying the night at Slutty Co-workers apartment in San Francisco when I was really hanging out with Leo. I try to keep Slutty Co-worker up to speed with all of my stories and itinerary modifications just in case she crosses paths with Kurt or Leo. But, I tell so many fibs it’s hard enough for me to remember where I was supposed to be half the time, let alone keep her informed. Then there are the stories I tell Dr. Maria. I have to try to keep those consistent with what I tell Kurt in case my whereabouts come up at one of their sessions. It’s a grind.
As I put pen to paper I realize this journal is the one place I can be honest, something I haven’t been in a very long time. At first I have difficulty getting the truth down. I write a sentence, read it, get sick to my stomach, and then pace a bit before I make my way back to the journal. After a few sentences and a few laps around the house, the flood gates of my fraudulent life are released and I can’t write fast enough. Before I know it, I have fifteen pages of honesty. Shit, I guess I had enough time to call Leo after all.
I take a few minutes to re-read my reality and there’s no denying it, it’s gross and painfully obvious I need therapy. Real therapy, not the fake kind I’ve been getting. The sound of the garage door opening jolts me out of my condemnation, and I quickly stash the journal in my work bag. As I make my way down the hall to greet Kurt, it crosses my mind that by now Megan has probably told Leo what she saw last night. I’m sure she used her run-in with me as an excuse to call him, just like I used my run-in with her as an excuse to call him. I haven’t had the nerve to listen to my voicemail yet. I’m sure he’ll demand that I see him right away and that’s not possible until next Thursday when Kurt goes out of town. I’m in for a shitty seven days.