Free The Unexpected List (The List Trilogy) by Chrissy Anderson

were doing.”
    “I was making dinner.”
    “I don’t really care, Kayla.  I just need the Puffaloompy.”
    “Ki-Ki!  I told you, it’s my Puffa- lumpa !”
    Given the fact that five minutes ago I thought I’d die if anything in Kurt’s life was better than it was when he was with me, I’m actually surprised I don’t feel an ounce of jealousy about this place now that I’m staring at it.  I mean, I can see the sparkling pool beyond the rod-iron fence, the private tennis court to the right of the four-car garage, and clearly the residence is a good four thousand square feet.  I’m even a little surprised that I’m not jealous of the fact that Kayla is evidently some kind of stay-at-home-something or other- a gig that Kurt was never supportive of me landing.  But, what’s not surprising is the overwhelming amount of rage that exploded inside of me when Kayla handed Kendall her stuffed animal.  She extended her head inside of the car and said, “I miss you sooooooo much, and I can’t wait for our next pizza party!” And then she planted a HUGE kiss on her forehead.
    OH NO YOU DIDN’T, BITCH!   It’s one thing to be living the life I’d been planning for myself since I was sixteen, but you DON’T get to smooch on my dead best friend’s daughter!  Taking control of the situation the only way I know how, I start to shut the window on her head.  Sadly for me, she manages to wiggle out just as it’s about to close in around her neck.  So much for taking it easy on her.
    Doing all I can to control my smile, I begin to gush, “Oh my goodness!  I’m soooooo sorry Kayla, I hit the wrong button!”
    “NAH-UH!  You did that on purpose!  I’m telling Kurt!”
    Part of me wants to call her a tattle tale, but that would reduce the conversation to the second grade level she’s clearly accustomed to.  Although…I wonder what level a window closer person is?  Probably a higher level.  It involves mechanics and critical thinking and stuff.
    Knowing full well she’ll do anything she can to prevent me from speaking to Kurt ever again, I apathetically reply, “Alrighty, I’ll be home later tonight if he needs to talk to me about it.”
    As I drive away, Kayla picks up a basketball and with boobs bouncing everywhere, she starts shooting basket after basket after basket, never missing a shot.  I think she’s trying to show me how much Kurt must love her awesomeness, but it only makes me happy for him...and wanting a boob job.  The whole scene has me cracking up in my car, but I stop the second the gate opens to let me out.  Suddenly everything’s not so funny anymore.
     

 
     
    Don't I hold you like you want to be held
    And don't I treat you like you want
    And don't I love you like you want to be loved…
    And you’re running away
    (Don’t I Hold You, Wheat)
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
    Different
    May, 2001
     
     
     
    As the gate to the property inches open, I see Kurt sitting in his Porsche on the other side.  Our eyes lock and my smile withers away.  At once, all of the blasé feelings I had about being here vanish and my past emerges.
    The gate causes dust to kick up into the air, and it takes me back to Kurt’s motorcycle accident in December, 1999 and how his body was covered in it. He thought the accident would reunite us, but when I brought him home from the hospital I asked him to let me go.  I begged him to believe in the peace, sanity, relief, and safety that wraps around you like a cocoon when you’re with the right person.  It took some convincing, but eventually he told me he believed in the kind of love I was talking about and agreed to a divorce so that he could be free to find it.  Now, looking at Kayla in my rearview mirror, I don’t see how he’s found all of those things I was talking about. Something’s seriously wrong with this picture.
    It’s been almost three months since I saw Kurt at that coffee shop for the camping photo exchange.  Like always, his hair is