Chrissy Anderson, a twenty-eight year old fashion executive, created a seven-point life list at the age of sixteen, and she’s been steadily checking off the boxes and mocking the style and life choices of everyone around her ever since. Her life begins to run amuck when she unexpectedly meets a much younger man, Leo, who makes her question her “perfect life.”
Chrissy’s lifelong friendships and her marriage are put to the test as she tries to sort out her feelings for Leo. With the help of her brassy, no-nonsense therapist, Dr. Maria, Chrissy learns more about herself than she anticipates. But, it isn’t until the untimely death of her best friend that Chrissy is catapulted into long overdue authenticity and scrambles to correct the mistakes of her past...trying to figure out if it’s her husband, Kurt, Leo or both that she has to get rid of to make everything right.
Women of all kinds- twenty-somethings, housewives, and superwomen wannabes- will all be able to relate to the pressure of constructing the ideal life, only to fall short. Not everyone will agree with Chrissy Anderson’s decisions, but all will pause as they follow along on her journey to ask, “What would I do if I were her?”
Lost
January 25, 1998
It’s noon when I finally open my eyes. Even though I know I’m alone and I will be for another couple of days, I totally expect to get caught. So, I lay silent and still for as long as I can. After an hour passes and I know the coast is clear, plus I have to pee, I roll onto my side and slowly scan my body. I’m still wearing my jeans and lime green cashmere sweater set. It appears that I had some sense about me to kick off my boots, because there they are on the floor. My eyelashes are stuck together and as I rub my hands over them, I’m horrified that I still have mascara on. I went to bed with make up on? That’s a first. I got home a little after 6am, so I guess I can forgive myself for the dirty face, but certainly not all the other dirty stuff.
What exactly happened again? Think, think, think. Omigod! The bits and pieces are coming back to me and at once, desire is waging war against shame. Why the hell was I even there? Why did he have to be talking about that? Why did I leave with him? Disgraced, I cup my hands over my face and right away I’m hit hard with the intoxicating smell of him. It’s sexy and smart and it’s clinging to my sweater set like a scarlet letter. It makes me want to do last night one more time. I want to see those eyes and feel his hands on the back of my neck and in my hair. His amazing hands… they were so strong and soft, perfect. And that voice, it was so serious and hypnotic. My body is trembling with exhilaration as I frantically dig for the phone number that’s hidden in my pocket. I want to see his handwriting, touch the paper he touched. I’m like a frenzied drug addict hunting for leftovers. Pleeeeeease let there be something on the other side of the paper that’ll give me more information about him… a grocery list, a store receipt, something.
The instant I find the scribbled on piece of paper, I feel heavy with remorse. I go from feeling seventeen and silly to seventy and sucker punched. Don’t even look at it Chrissy, you CAN’T call him! I look. 925-397-08… D’oh! Flip it over. Nothing on the back. I’m such a fool. I wad up the tiny piece of paper and throw it in the garbage like it’s a piece of contaminated hospital waste.
I can’t understand why he wanted me to call him so badly anyway. I mean, I’m so much older than him. I was shocked when we revealed our ages, twenty-eight and twenty-two. Oddly, he didn’t flinch at the huge gap. Shaking my head as if to magically purge the insanity of all of this, I stumble over to the closet, all the while making sure I don’t look at my cheating ass in the bathroom mirror. After delicately removing my sweater set, I sniff it one more time and then shove it as far back in my closet as possible. I’ll take it to the dry cleaners to destroy all evidence. But not yet, I want a few more days to inhale it.
I have to do something to take my mind off of last night or else I’m gonna go crazy. I’ll clean. I scrub my floors, my toilets, refrigerator, anything and everything. I do it all except empty the garbage can, which I casually pass by every few minutes. I want a cocktail real bad but it’s only two in the afternoon and I’ve been conditioned not to drink before 5pm. I can’t think of a better time to change that retarded way of thinking, so I slam a beer. Just as I’m about to crack open another one, I impulsively leave the house and head straight for the walking trail at the end of my street.
I look like a crazy person… on a trail… in pouring down, freezing rain. But I don’t want to go home. What if he’s out here? Wouldn’t that make us meant to be? Wait, he was there last night, so why can’t that make us meant to be? Jesus, cheater, stop thinking so much! My heart races whenever someone appears in the distance. It stops when I realize it’s not him. I point my face up towards the sky and let the rain pound onto it, hoping it will wash away the improper thoughts racing through my mind. I stand motionless for what seems like an eternity.
Friendly people that have already walked past me are now walking past again to return to wherever they came from. Soaking wet, staring up at nothing, they now rush past me and keep their heads down like I might leap at them and stab ‘em or something. I can’t blame them; I look like a lunatic. I’m wearing nothing but jeans and a t-shirt and even though I’m totally drenched, I’m not cold. I’m numb. I look like I should be begging for food and, in a way, it feels like I am. But as hungry as I am for him, he’ll never find me. He has no idea where I live and even if he knew the city, he would never guess this neighborhood. Only married people live here.
Chrissy Anderson is the author of The Life List, and the people, their quirks, and the major events of her story are derived from personal life events. She sees bits and pieces of her checkered past in almost every woman she encounters, and she wants to help them, tell them they’re NOT crazy. Chrissy’s choices were stupid and sometimes sleazy, but, unfortunately, not all too uncommon.
Chrissy currently lives in Portland, Oregon, with the love of her life and her beautiful daughter. A former fashion executive, she is now a writer, wife, and mother, who spends her life doing exactly what she always wanted, doting on those she loves.
Did you miss the interview with Chrissy or with Leo? Click on their names, or go to the home page for more on The Life List.
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