The Unexpected List (The List Trilogy) (36 page)

My landlord pops his head inside and tells me the U-Haul is ready and he’s waiting to follow me to my new house…that I’m now the sole owner of and can barely afford.  The real estate agent made the buyout of Leo’s share of the home super easy and there wasn’t any need to deal directly with him on the transaction.  I appreciated her willingness to get the job done as quickly as possible, but I pray it wasn’t so she could
do him
as quickly as possible. The thought of Leo even giving her the gift of his voice over the phone sends me into a frenzy, so I have to force any and all thought of him giving more to her out of my mind.  Rubbing my stomach, I exhale, “It’s not healthy for either of us, is it?”

When I know my landlord is back outside, I take a Swiss army knife out of my pocket and start carving.  Before I close the kitchen cabinet, I take a moment to admire my work.  Carved deep into the wood are the words, “I loved here.”  Then I bend down and grab the only box I wouldn’t let my landlord help me with, the one containing Kelly’s videos.  Standing in the entryway, I give my refuge one last glance before saying “thank you” and then I close the door for the last time.

During the ten-minute drive to my new house, I mull over my next moves as well as the ones taken over the past few weeks, like my first doctor’s appointment.  Slutty Co-worker, who so far is the only person who knows about the baby, came along for moral support.  Actually, it was more like slapstick support…

“Can you estimate the time of conception?”

Before I have a chance to answer the doctor, my dear old friend chimes in with, “Ain’t that the million dollar question?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well…she slept with her ex-husband
and
her ex-fiancé within…” looking back at me, “How many weeks between the two, hunny?”

Mortified, I attempt to clear things up for the doctor.

“I’m not
exactly
sure if I slept with my ex-husband, but if I did, it would’ve been two weeks before I slept with my…ex-fiancé, August thirty-first.”

Jesus, how is it that a woman who has only slept with two men in her entire life can have so many ex’s?

Confused, the doctor asks, “You’re not
exactly
sure if you had sex with your ex-husband?”

“She was drunk.”

I shoot a look at Slutty to stop doing me favors.

“I…um…I had a lot of wine that night, but I want you to know it had been nine months since I had anything to drink.  It’s not like I’m an alcoholic or anything.”

“Yep.  Thank God those days are over!”

The doctor peculiarly brushes off Slutty’s remark and hits me with the guilt I knew I had coming.

“Being highly intoxicated isn’t exactly the most ideal way to bring a child into the world.”

Thanks fuck-head.  

“I’m aware of that, and it scares me. If this baby is his…”  Seriously!  It does NOT get more Jerry Springer than this “…will it be okay?”

“Everything should be fine.  I know being a first time parent can be really scary-”

“Oh, she’s not a first time parent!  She has a daughter!”

I shoot Slutty Co-worker another shut the F up look.

“You do?”

Oh brother.  “Yeah, I’m the guardian of my dead…best friend’s…daughter.”

“Where’s
that
father?”

“Uh, he’s dead too.”

I can tell by the look on the doctor dude’s face that he’s wondering if he should call social services or the police and his judgmental looks are all my big-mouth friend can take.  She jumps out of her chair and attacks.

“No!  No!  No!  You don’t look at this woman like that!”

I try to interrupt the outburst, but there’s no stopping her.

“Sure, she might sound like a fuck up,
Doctor
, but this is a good woman with a heart as big as her stomach’s about to get!  Two of her dearest friends are dead, and she’s raising their child like she’s her own, and she’s doing a better job than you or anyone else could do.  And, yes, she might’ve slept with two men in two weeks, but she loved both of those guys more than I’ve ever loved half of one.  So just lube up that stick thing, put it inside of her, and tell us everything’s okay, because we have a baby to plan for and your asshole looks are holding us up from doing that!  Got it?”

And that’s how my first doctor’s appointment went.  Probably not something for the baby books, that’s for sure.  But I left there that day knowing two things, Slutty Co-worker will do anything to protect me, and I’m due on either June seventh or June twenty-second…depending on who the father is.

Now, just five minutes from my new house, I’m idling at the stop light in front of The Round Up.  Carefree girls, who aren’t eight to twelve weeks pregnant, wander in and out like remembering to apply their lip gloss is the most pressing thing they have to do.  I grab the rear view mirror and stare at my make-up-less mom face.  I’d look prettier than this if Leo was with me.  We’d be making this drive together, laughing at The Round Up people and excited about meeting the furniture delivery guys at the new house.  It would be a day to cross off of our shared life list.  But, no, we have separate lists now.  He’s probably hanging out with the types of girls I’m watching go in and out of The Round Up, and you know what?  He deserves it.  He deserves to be young.  The light turns green and in the nick of disparaging time, I hit the gas.

Rounding the corner to my new house, I see the delivery guys loading a crib into the garage.  Slutty Co-worker bought it for me. It’s vintage white wrought iron and it’s absolutely stunning.  But, as beautiful of a gift as it is, it can’t go in the house yet…I still have to tell Kendall about the baby. I park on the street and watch from the car as my landlord immediately gets busy unloading what little belongings I have, and a few of my new neighbors start to approach my car with coffee and muffins. Yep, as alone and scared as I was moving into my cottage four years ago, it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling right now.  Placing my hand on the box of videos that’s buckled into the passenger seat, I whisper, “I think it’s time to start watching you.”

Interrogation

December, 2002

“What’s with the moo-moo?”

It’s been months since I’ve been to the cemetery and months since I’ve seen Courtney and Nicole.  Work, Kendall, the studios, morning sickness…life, have taken over.  And in watching Kelly’s videos, I know she’d approve of my absence.

I started at the beginning, just like she asked me to do in her letter.  The very first night I moved into my new house, after I kissed Kendall goodnight, I made a cup of that damn Nepalese tea, settled into my brand new big bed and put on the first video, titled,
Three years old,
which was Kendall’ age when Kelly got sick.  I couldn’t have done it even two months ago. I still wasn’t ready to see her…to hear her.  But with each passing pregnant day, I needed Kelly’s voice of reason more and more.  So, I closed my eyes, blindly aimed the remote at the television, hit play, and there it was.

In classic Kelly style there wasn’t any long drawn out dramatic explanation for making the videos, no mention of cancer or death, nor was there any gooshy pronouncement of her love for anyone or anything.  Knowing time was of the essence, she got right to the point.  She spoke of temper tantrums and healthy snacks and requested that Kendall be read to every single night and taken to the library at least once a week.  Eyes still closed, I let out a little, “Uh-oh.”   She encouraged Craig to keep his cool during the times when Kendall would test him and reminded him that she never yelled and hardly used profanity and expected him to follow her model.  Knowing I’d dropped the S bomb in front of Kendall at least twenty times, I whispered, “Oh crap.”  Then, Kelly moved on to the importance of staying ahead of Kendall’s needs and that’s when my eyes finally opened, literally and figuratively.  When she said the words, “Never let Kendall’s demands get ahead of what you’ve planned, even if it means losing sleep and blowing off your friends.  Your life and hers will only be as calm as you make it,” I froze.  It’s exactly what I needed to hear, and I paused the video to think long and hard about her message.

For so many months, I’ve been terrified to watch the videos.  I didn’t think I had it in me to look at my best friend who knew she was going to die.  My best friend, who knew she would not live to see the day her daughter turned four. But I forgot how strong Kelly was, and I underestimated her reasoning.  She made these videos in the midst of chaos, knowing her family’s life could only be as calm as she designed it to be. And now that I’m in the midst of a little chaos of my own, there is so much I can learn from them. Now that Kendall’s turning five next month, and now that I’m going to have my own child, I can’t afford to let the videos gather anymore dust.  As much as Kendall needs the information on them, I do too.

Pressing play, the video cut to Kelly reading Kendall’s favorite book,
Goodnight Moon. 

“…In a great green room, tucked away in bed, is a little bunny. ‘Goodnight room, goodnight moon.’ And to all the familiar things in the softly lit room--to the picture of the three little bears sitting in chairs, to the clocks and his socks, to the mittens and the kittens, to everything one by one--he says goodnight.”

And then, without shedding a tear, my strong friend said, “Good night Sweetheart.  I love you, and I’m always with you.”

I walked to Kendall’s room and repeated the words to her in her sleep, and then headed back to my new bed with plans to fall fast asleep before thoughts of Leo high-jacked my mind, but I made the mistake of stopping in the bathroom to pee on the way.  In a box, right in front of me as I sat on the toilet, was the towel Leo left behind after 9/11.  Feeling overwhelmed and lonely in my new home, I was relieved I hadn’t thrown it away and fell asleep that night, and every night since, with it pressed firmly against my heart. The next day, I got a library card, stocked the house with healthy snacks, and Kendall and I started planting a vegetable garden in the backyard.  Most importantly, I assembled a swear jar and said goodbye to my two favorite words, shit and fuck.  New baby…new house…new life…new calm.

Now approaching my best friends who are already settled on top of Kelly’s grave, I don’t feel an ounce of guilt that I haven’t been here very much.  Kelly would appreciate the calm I’ve been hard at work creating.  She would much rather I live my life than reflect on a life I’ll never live, which is usually what happens when I come here.  Nevertheless, it’s nice to see Courtney and Nicole, and unload a few things that are essential in my quest for calm.

“It’s not a moo-moo, Nic.  It happens to be Juicy Couture and it’s all the rage these days.”

“Well, it makes you look pregnant.”

“Probably because I am.”

Speculating that I might be telling another one of my famous fibs, my doctor friends just stare at me in silence.

“Around twelve weeks, actually.”

“Hold on,
you’re serious about this
?”

I place Nicole’s hand on my small, hard bump and give her an eyebrow raise.

“Holy moley.”  Looking at Courtney, “Either she has some serious gas or the girl’s prego.”

“Was there a wedding?  I mean, I don’t remember getting an invitation, do you Nicole?”

“Ahhhhh,
nooooooo
.  Jesus, Chrissy!  Why didn’t you tell us you were pregnant sooner?”

“I didn’t know myself until last month.”

“It sounds like something that would slip through the cracks with you!”

After my friends pummel me with hugs and kisses, the interrogation begins.

“Are you and Leo gonna wait until after the baby’s born to tie the knot?”

“Or, are you gonna be as fashionable as that outfit and be a knocked up bride?”

Opening a bottle of water, I practice what Kelly was preaching in the video and
calmly
tell them, “Leo and I broke up.”

Silence again.

“It’s okay you guys, I’m gonna be alright.”

Not really.  But it’s not going to do anyone a bit of good if I display my actual state of emotions, which is what I would label as frantically heartbroken.  Life is only as calm as I make it, right?

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah, you can’t fool us, Chrissy.  You’re talking to people who’ve had to tranquilize you after you chipped your nail polish.”

In an attempt to hold back my tears, I close my eyes for a long time before I respond to their spot-on assessment of my emotional state.

“You’re right.  I’m an absolute mess.  But, there’s nothing I can do about it.  It’s really, really over this time.  His choice.  How pathetic would I be if I didn’t accept it and begged for him to reconsider?”

What
?  It’s not like the whole world needs to know I was on my hands and knees in New York in September doing that very thing.

“Well…is he gonna be a part of the baby’s life?”

Now it’s Courtney’s turn with, “And what about Kendall?  I mean, she
really
liked him.”

“Trust me, I hate that another person is gone from her life.  But, in all honestly, he’s been in New York for so long, it didn’t seem that tough for her when I broke the news.”

“Wait…he’s still in New York?  Wow, and I thought the visitation you have set up with Kurt was a pain in the ass.  Sounds like this will be a nightmare.”

Here we go…

“I don’t even know if it’s his.”

The two of them scream, “WHAT?” so loud that the entire funeral service  taking place two hundred feet away turns to look at us.

Courtney groans, “You’ve taken the word Chrissygan to a
whooooooole
new level with this news.”

Needing more information, Nicole inquisitively asks, “C’mon…spill it. Who else are you sleeping with?”

“It’s not important.  Besides, I don’t even know for sure if it even happened.”

Courtney has no idea what the hell I’m even talking about, but Nicole on the other hand…

“Drunk?”

“Big time.”