The Girl I Was Before (10 page)

“This is serious, Paige,” she says, her brow pinched, her face in
intervention
mode. I hate the way she keeps saying my name for emphasis. She looks ridiculous. This whole thing…it’s ridiculous.

“Lexi,” I say her name back with a little bite, and she flinches. “I am not, let me repeat,
am not
in a porno film.

“I saw it Paige,” she says, leaning her head to one side and affecting pity. I hold her stare for a few long seconds, the crowd behind her blurring out as women rush by with bags and high schoolers ditching class for the day swear and push one another. And then I realize…I
remember.

“Oh. My. God!” I say in a short and panicked voice, standing and looking around. Still…nobody notices me. I sit back down and let my face fall into my hands.

Rush week was hell, and Chandra made us do a lot of embarrassing things. One of them was strip for the Sigma guys, and she filmed it. It was sort of innocent, and we only went down to our bra and panties—but Chandra filmed it. And last month, with Carson, he might have filmed…
something else.
And fuck!

“Who showed you this? Where was it? How did they show you? Who gave it to them…” I watch her shake her head as she tries to sort through my barrage of questions.

“Steph goes to UCLA, and she lives on Tabitha Snyder’s floor. I guess Tab knows your sister and some chick on Cass’s soccer team is her cousin or something? Cass didn’t show her. I don’t think Cass even knows, if that’s what you’re worried about, but that other girl had the video and emailed it to her. She told her it was
going around.”

I stand before Lexi’s done talking, and she stands with me, pulling her purse close to her body like somehow now that she’s told me the sordid secret going around about me, we’re in danger.
Look out! Muggers coming out of the woodwork because there’s a stupid fucking rumor floating around about me.

I feel her hand reach for the back of my shirt, and I shrug her off.

“Paige? Why? Did you need money or something? I mean, how much money can you really make from something like that?” I note the way she’s looking at me while she talks. I think there’s a part of her concern that is genuine. But she’s also made it clear she’d cut me loose in a heartbeat to save her own reputation—even if it meant letting me fall down a cliff.

“No, Lexi. I didn’t get money for it,” I say, my answer clipped on purpose. She’s waiting with her mouth ajar for me to fill her in more. Maybe she’s waiting for the big protest, for my explanation—which I actually do have. I probably should defend myself, but I just don’t feel like it. I don’t think Lexi deserves it, and I don’t think it would do any good.

I turn and leave Lexi behind, calling my mom to come pick me up at a restaurant a block away. When she comes, her face painted with that same worried expression I’ve seen too much of today, I snap at her and tell her Lexi ditched me to go smoke pot and she should just be happy that her daughter doesn’t do shit like that.

Tabitha went to our high school, and she played on the team there with Cass. She’s also Chandra’s cousin—and like Chandra, Tabitha never really cared for my sister. So I’m sure she was happy to help spread a lie about me, and I’m sure Chandra told her it would hurt Cass.

When we get back to the house, I do a frenzied search online for myself, for the video. Nothing comes up, but now I know it might. The threat is real. I search through Tabitha’s Facebook posts—glad she’s too stupid to keep her page private. When I see pictures of her and Chandra, I feel my blood boil. Without waiting, I pull my phone into my hand and type a message to Houston.

H
ouston

I
wrote
that to Paige a week ago, and then nothing. I should probably find out when she’s coming back to campus, when she’ll be here, when I should start her lease. Lease! I need to send her paperwork for that, too. Not that I don’t trust her, but my mom insists on lease papers ever since we had a freshman guy leave in the middle of the night two years ago—owing us six hundred bucks.

I look at my text and delete it before sending. That sounds cold. I don’t want to sound cold, but I don’t want to sound…I don’t know…flirty? That’s why I haven’t written anything since. If she’s really moving in, then things need to stay a certain way. But I also don’t want her to think I’m just her landlord now. But I guess that’s really all I am.

I hit SEND and quit worrying about it, returning to my empty shopping cart and the list my mom pulled together of things to get for Christmas. I missed the visit to Santa this year, so Mom took notes. It seems Leah is into Barbie now. Last year, she was all about trucks and things with wheels. I understand that stuff. Barbie, though—that was more of a Bethany thing. She would have loved this shopping list.

I’m standing in the aisle labeled BARBIE ACCESSORIES when my phone buzzes with a call. It’s Paige, and I’m a little surprised she’s calling instead of just texting back.

“Hey, what’s up?” I answer, tucking the phone in the crook of my neck while I read some package of various Barbie shoes and purses. They’re all made of plastic, and the entire thing costs forty bucks. Seems like a rip-off.

“You needed lease info. Remember?” I smirk when she speaks, the irony that I’m looking at college-girl Barbie, and talking to one on the phone, strikes me as funny.

“Right. I kinda thought I could just email it to you?” I ask, picking up a pink car, wondering if maybe I can get away with something like this instead. “Hey…would Barbie rather have a bunch of plastic boots or a Corvette?”

“What?” Paige sounds confused, and irritated. Her phone is breaking up, and I can tell she’s out somewhere doing something. Whatever, she called me.

“I’m shopping for Leah, and she wants Barbie stuff. But it all looks kind of, I don’t know…lame,” I put the car back when I realize the doors don’t even open.

“Right, anyhow…” she says. “So can you just fill it out with me over the phone? I can sign when I get there. I don’t really have a scanner or whatever here. I’m at my parents’ house.”

“Sure, yeah. I guess. I’ll call you later and go through the questions. It’s all pretty simple,” I say.

“Great,” she says. I wait for her to hang up, but when I realize she hasn’t, I feel kind of oddly glad. “So…that’s a
no
on the Corvette?”

Paige huffs into the phone, and it makes me laugh. “Is there a horse?” she asks.

“No, it’s not those little pony things. Just Barbie,” I say, my eyes glazing over at the row of dolls. They all look exactly the same, just different dresses. It’s weird.

“Uhm, I know that. I meant Barbie’s horse. Barbie has a horse. Is there one of those?” She’s insistent.

“I don’t know. Hang on,” I say, kneeling and scanning down the row of pink and yellow and purple things, until I finally come across a horse and carriage. “Yeah! There is one!”

“That’s what you get,” she says.

“Just this? You sure? I shouldn’t back it up with like,” I pick up another accessory pack, “
Barbie’s Mission to Mars
set or
Barbie Loves Dogs
vet set?” This marketing is amazing. Does this shit really work?

“If you want. But the horse will be it. That’s the best gift she’ll get. Trust me on this,” she says, and I look at the other things in my hands and decide to believe her, putting them all back and tossing the horse and carriage set in the basket and moving on to clothes.

“Awesome, thanks. You just saved me an hour and probably a hundred bucks,” I say.

“Well, that’s the toy I always wanted, so…” Her voice trails off, but I hang on. Something about what she says makes me happy and sad at the same time. The silence lasts for a few seconds, and then she shakes it off. “All right, so call me when you want to get that info…for the lease.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, wondering if I should say more. It doesn’t matter though, because Paige hangs up first.

After another thirty minutes at the store, I manage to find princess pajamas, some frilly hair things to go along with the horse, and a wand—Leah wanted a wand. It’s not much, but my mom always makes a few things to go along with the stuff we put under the tree for Leah. She’s turning five soon, so we can still kind of get away with small stuff.

I sneak the bag inside quickly, managing to get upstairs without Leah noticing me. I surprise her when I come back down and put my hands over her eyes at the kitchen table.

“Boo!” I say, and she jumps, but immediately giggles.

“Where were you?” she asks. I flip my eyes to my mom with a smile.

“I had work,” I say, winking.

“No you didn’t. You’re not wearing your shirt,” she says. Damn my girl is smart.

“True. It was a special workday. I just had to help with something, so I didn’t have to stay long,” I lie.

“Oh,” she says, turning her attention back to the small cheese crackers on a plate in front of her.

“One day, you’re not going to get off so easily,” my mom whispers in my ear as she pats my back and leaves the kitchen. I lean against the counter and watch my daughter pick up each cracker and inspect it before eating it. She’s so curious about everything. She’s so much like her mom.

I need to prep her for someone new moving in. We’ve had five roommates since we decided to start renting out the spare room, and each time it takes Leah about two weeks to finally sleep at night. Change makes her nervous. Even though she was barely a month old when her mom died, I think there’s a part of her that always thinks about it. The slightest changes to her routine seem to send her anxiety up.

I pull up a chair to talk to her about it, reaching over and grabbing one of her crackers and stuffing it in my mouth.

“Heyyyyy,” she says through a laugh that turns into a cough. “You didn’t ask.”

“May I please have a cracker?” I say with a full mouth. Leah giggles and nods
yes.

“So I need to talk to you about something,” I say, walking my fingers over to her plate again to steal another cracker. She stands her own fingers up and walks them over to me, ready to face off. I grab her hand instead and pull it to my mouth with a gobbling noise, then I kiss her tiny knuckles. “We’re going to have a new roommate. You’ll like her; it’s a girl this time.”

I’m hoping that she’ll do better with a girl, that somehow it will be less threatening.

“Okay,” she says, sucking her bottom lip in. She pushes her plate a few inches away, sliding it slowly. I can tell she’s already getting stressed.

“Her name is Paige,” I say, suddenly struck with an idea. Paige might hate me for this, but… “and guess what?”

“What?” Leah whispers.

“She looks just like Barbie.”

Leah’s eyes widen a little, and her smile slowly pushes into her cheeks making a small dimple on either side.

“Really?” she asks.

“Really,” I say. No, not
really.
But she’s pretty close.

“Okay,” Leah says, reaching over to the table and pulling her plate close again.

I stand and push my chair in, but before I leave, I reach at her plate and snatch one more cracker, stuffing it in my mouth fast. Leah turns to look at me with her cheeks puffed and her hands on her hips, but she can’t keep the look up for long, giving way to laughter in seconds.

I head upstairs and push the door closed, locking it behind me so I can pull the bag of things I bought today out from under my bed. I let my mom do the wrapping for obvious reasons. If these things are supposed to be from Santa, then the wrapping probably shouldn’t be done with painter’s tape and staples.

I slip the horse out from the bag and prop it on my knees. It has pink hair, and it comes with a brush it claims is “made of stars.” The eyes are purple, and everything about this toy reminds me of Paige.

Leah is going to love it.

P
aige

C
ass
and I managed to shop together last night, on Christmas Eve. It’s been our thing for years. Our dad started it, always waiting until the last minute to buy something for our mom. He used to take us along when we were little. We’d binge on treats at the department stores and my dad would bribe us to keep going with hot cocoa. He hated the crowds, but we loved it.

By the time we started high school, Dad would just give us money and drop us off to get everything. He was happy not to have to do it. When we both got our licenses, we started driving ourselves. I was worried that this year would be the first time we skipped. But yesterday afternoon, Cass came into my room and asked me what time we should leave.

We’ve talked. It started when I picked her up from the airport. That car ride back to the house was so quiet and strange. It actually hurt to be close to her.
That’s probably guilt I felt.
Whatever it was, it all boiled to the surface, and I let everything out when we got home. I admitted I used to want to hate her. I did. There were so many times when I thought it would be easier to have a sister I didn’t love—one I didn’t want to defend. I stopped short of telling her I sometimes wondered what it would have been like if we weren’t twins. Not if she weren’t born at all, just if she were born later…or earlier.

That conversation—it wasn’t good. But it was honest. It was a start. And we’ve talked more. Not much, but a little. And never about anything very important. She doesn’t talk about the assault, and I don’t talk about Chandra. There’s so much she doesn’t know, but right now things between her and me are…well, they are what they are.

I got a text from Carson last night. He wished me a Merry Christmas. I’m pretty sure he was drunk. It was a picture of him out with his brother at some bar, their shirts off, and beers in their hands. He said he missed me, whatever that means. He misses me. Right. That’s why he shares private videos of me with my enemies. You know...to get over
missing me
so fucking much.

I glance one more time at the picture he sent. His abs are nice, so at least there’s that. I slide through a few more texts, and I’m back to the short string of messages between Houston and me. Somehow, I hit his contact button, and my phone dials him.
Maybe there’s a part of me that meant to call
.

By the time it’s ringing, it’s too late to hang up, so I let it go. On the fifth ring, I’m looking at my phone screen, ready to hang up. I’ll blame a purse dial if he sees this. I’m about to bail when he answers.

“Hey! Happy Christmas!” His immediate answer, his overly holly-jolly voice—it makes me smile at first, but I catch myself, force my lips back to serious.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I hope I’m not interrupting family time,” I say, looking at the clock. It’s almost six here, so that makes it almost eight in Oklahoma. I didn’t need to talk to him now; this could have waited until tomorrow. Or the next day. I don’t know why I called now really.

“No, it’s good. Leah just went to bed, and my mom is still at my aunt’s house—we do a big Christmas thing over there…lasts all day,” he says.

We spent the day here, exchanging gifts we already knew we got one another. Cass made me a bracelet, something she said she made months ago—back when she
wanted
to make me things. I gave her a gift card to her favorite Pilates place. I bought it three days ago. I’m kind of envious over Houston’s Christmas.

“I thought if you had a second we could take care of that lease thing. Is now okay?” I ask.

“Uh…now?” he says, and I can hear him laugh a little under his breath. “Sure…uhm, give me a second. I kind of don’t have anything out. But, I can log on to my computer. Just…”

My cheeks are hot and my chest feels tight. I think maybe I’m embarrassed. It’s Christmas, and I’m calling him to take care of
lease
paperwork. I’m calling him because I’m lonely. Because my sister’s boyfriend is coming to stay with us in a few days, and she has someone who loves her—
really
loves her.

I have Houston—my knight and shining landlord.

“I’m sorry. I guess it’s Christmas. I just like to take care of things. We can do this later this week,” I start to backtrack, but he interrupts.

“No, no. Here, I got it. Hang on, let me sit down,” he says. I hear his door close behind him, and I wonder where he is. Is he in his room? In his bed? I bet he wears one of those old-man pajama sets, the flannel kind with a matching shirt and pants.

“Current address? Did you hear me?” He must have asked once before, when I was mentally making him less attractive.

“Oh, right. I guess…do you want the Delta address?” I ask.

“Your parents’ address is fine. It’s just so my mom is comfortable. Really, whatever works,” he says.

We go through a short list of questions, filling out my address, various income things, which all point back to my parents. After about ten minutes of me talking, and Houston typing, we’re done.

Done. I can go back to flipping through celebrity magazines in the living room with my mom, spending Christmas trying to chip away at the ice I’ve formed between my sister and me.

“Did she like her horse?” My question takes him a little off guard. There really wasn’t a segue. I just didn’t want to hang up yet. Even
not
talking to Houston is better than
not
talking to nobody.

“The horse?” he asks, but quickly following my question. “Oh! Yeah! You were so right on with that. She’s sleeping with it.”

“Good,” I say, and I let myself smile, a little proud. I’m like a Christmas elf.

There’s a long silence that settles in again, and I start to get that sinking sensation in my stomach. I’m intruding, and he’s just being polite. Me calling—
on Christmas!
—this weird conversation, it’s going to make it weird when I move in.