The Girl I Was Before (14 page)

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say, waiting as he holds a few fingers up for a polite wave. He turns and walks down the front steps back to his car. I close the door when he opens his, not wanting him to see me watch him leave. But I want to watch him leave. I settle for listening to his engine start and fade instead.

The warmth from being near him evaporates as soon as I turn around and face the dark emptiness of the sorority house. Only a handful of the girls are back, but the ones who are—they hate me.

And I hate them.

I drag my bags up the steps, letting them scratch and scuff along the way. What do I care? Once I get to my room, I take a deep breath and push my key in, knowing my key—it’s a farce. There isn’t anything that can keep
everyone
out. My bed is packed up, the blankets and pillows all stacked in the center. The clothes I left behind in the drawers and closet are all piled in a basket at the foot of the bed. And the makeup and perfume I decided not to bring—it’s gone, most of it cracked and spilled in the metal trashcan at the edge of my vanity. I’m not surprised, but this act—it’s still a slap in my face.

There’s a note in the middle of my mirror, and I hesitate to read it. Reading it gives it power. I walk past it and sit at the edge of my bed to survey the details, wondering what else they’ve done that I’m not seeing. My saved belongings are protected in my bags by the door. I hear someone down the hall giggle, and I hear a door close. The Delta House is old—historic. And the hardware sounds as such. I used to hate the noises—the creaking and the pops. But I adore them now—the way they expose the rats.

Standing, I walk to my mirror and pull the purple sticky note from the glass.

I crumple the paper and throw it in the trash bin along with my cosmetics. I turn back to the bed and slide the pile of pillows and blankets to the floor, pulling one comforter out of the pile to sleep on, and another to sleep under. I bundle my hair in a bun and slip into a pair of sweatpants and my sister’s old soccer T-shirt. She gave it to me when I needed something to work out in over the break, and I kept it. It’s nothing like I normally wear—plain, red, with a giant logo on the front and her number on the back. There’s a hole at the bottom, and I loop my thumb through it to stretch the shirt out so I can take my reflection in. At a quick glance, I look like Cass in this.

With one more check on my lock, I pull my bags closer to my bed. If anyone tries to fuck with me tonight, I’m going to hear them. And maybe, wearing Cass’s shirt will give me Cass’s strength. I slip my phone from my purse, and set the alarm. Then, I shoot one last text to Houston:

I keep the phone clutched in my hand, and when it buzzes minutes later, I smile, knowing it’s from him. I tilt it just enough to read his response:

It’s short, and there’s no pretense to it. It’s what I want. But yet, I’m also disappointed that there isn’t more to his message, that he isn’t asking me if I want him to come back, if I haven’t changed my mind about staying tonight. I laugh silently to myself at how unfair I’m being.

It’s almost midnight.

Seven hours.

I can handle one night.

I let my eyes drift shut, and soon my ears take in only the gentle hum of the heater. It lulls me to near sleep, and I start to forget why my arms are flexed and my fingers are gripping my phone so hard. And then I hear the creak down the hall and I remember.

One night. But not a minute more.

H
ouston

I
showed up at seven
, and Paige was already packed and waiting for me. She doesn’t strike me as the wake-up-early kind of girl. She’s been yawning most of the morning while we load things into my car and then out of my car, upstairs, and to her new room.

“Why don’t you rest for a while? I’m off today, and was just planning on taking Leah to the park. You can get settled in your room—maybe take a nap?” I suggest.

Paige flops on her new bed, bouncing on it a few times, testing the softness. I can tell she’s disappointed, but she’s biting her lip, looking off to the side, like she’s searching for a way to show she’s grateful.

“It’s a really crappy mattress, I know,” I say for her.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll get a mattress pad or something…” she says, standing and pushing down on it a few times. That mattress is probably two decades old. I’d switch mine with hers, but I’m pretty sure mine is even worse. The only one with a good mattress in this house is Leah, and hers is built for a child.

Paige paces around the room, pulling out a few drawers and flipping the light on in her closet, getting familiar with her new surroundings. I was sort of surprised when her sister and that girl Rowe weren’t there to help us move her things this morning. I know she said their relationship was strained, but I also thought they were working on it. When I asked her about her sister, she flinched, and then begged me not to tell anyone she was living here. I get it; she’s hiding. But I also feel like she’s embarrassed to be here.

“All right, well, we’ll be back early this afternoon. My mom is making dinner—you know, to welcome you? Hope that’s okay…” I’m holding her doorknob, my body halfway in and out of her room. I don’t want to leave.

“That’s nice of her,” she says, her eyes coming up to mine, but retreating. She’s standing in the middle of her room, her fingers fidgeting in front of her body, and her teeth chewing at her lip so much I think she may actually bite through her own skin.

“You’re welcome to join us—Leah and me—if you want…”

“Yes,” she interjects. Her enthusiasm makes me smile, but I hide it with my hand. I don’t know why I like that she’s uncomfortable, but I do.

“Okay, we’ll leave in an hour. Leah takes a while to wake up and get ready,” I say, pulling her door closed behind me.

“I can relate,” she says just before the door shuts.

L
eah finishes her pancakes
, using her sleeve to wipe the syrup from her mouth. My mom hates it when she does that, but she learned it from me, so I feel like I don’t have the right to correct her. If you want sugar on your arm kid, have at it!

I pull her plate from the table and rinse it quickly at the sink, setting it in a rack to wash better later. We don’t have a dishwasher. There’s a spot for one, but we have a mini-fridge, filled with my mom’s jams and jellies, stuffed in there instead. She sells them at the store, too.

When I turn back to the open kitchen, Leah is standing near the foot of the steps—her fingers fidgeting just as Paige’s were an hour ago—her lips tight and her breath held while she stretches up on her toes to see the top of the steps. She’s waiting for Paige, and she’s nervous.

“Whatcha doing there, sport?” I ask, pulling her jacket from the small rack by the door. I hold the sleeves out for her, and she stuffs her arms inside the purple unicorn coat, leaving them stretched out to either side so I can zip it up. I kneel down in front of her and she pushes one hand on top of my head so she can see over me.

“Is she up there?” she whispers. I smile as I look down at her shoes, stopping to fix the Velcro straps.

“She’ll be right down. She’s coming to the park with us,” I say. Leah pushes on my head with both hands now, forcing my hair in my eyes. I reach around and lift her in my arms, picking her up in the air so she can see to the top of the steps more easily.

“Is she coming now?” she asks.

“Soon,” I say, blowing hard on her neck, my lips to her skin so it makes a noise. She bends into me and giggles.

I set her down and walk to the living room to grab my own jacket and shoes. I lean against the sofa to put my shoes on and watch as Leah remains in the same spot, her hands back to wringing in front of her, her neck craning to see. Her eyes light up the second I hear the creaking sound of Paige’s door, and Leah flashes her eyes to me, frozen. She’s not sure if she should stand there or run. I step over to her so she doesn’t feel nervous, and she folds into my side, hiding her face on my leg, then peering out with her cheek firm against me.

I don’t look at Paige until she’s almost completely down the steps, but Leah, she watches the entire time, her eyes widening, and her smile growing. When I look up, I see why.

I’m pretty sure she’s done this on purpose. Paige is wearing a pink dress with matching shoes, and her hair is a perfect glow around her face. She’s holding a pink purse in her hands, and the closer she gets to Leah, the bigger my daughter’s smile becomes.

“Hey, Leah. I’m Paige. We met once, at your dad’s work?” she says, kneeling down so she can look Leah in the eyes.

“I remember,” Leah says, her voice soft. She’s swaying side-to-side, her teeth pinning her lips in a forever kind of smile.

“Can I come to the park with you today?” Paige asks, peering up at me for approval. I give her a thumbs up.

“Yes,” Leah says, her swaying picking up speed. I hold my hand against her side to calm her. She’s excited.

I urge Leah toward the door, and Paige and I follow. Leah runs ahead, climbing into the backseat of my car and buckling herself quickly in her booster seat. Paige waits for me while I lock the front door, and I catch a glimpse of pink as she twists behind me. I think she wants me to notice her, to say something. I laugh once under my breath when I catch her hand on her purse as I turn. The woman even painted her nails pink.

“Thanks,” I say, nodding my head toward her. “You have just replaced Santa Claus on the hierarchy of cool people in Leah’s life.”

Paige beams, satisfied; she pulls the edge of her dress out a little, bending her knees in a curtsy. “What girl doesn’t want to be Barbie?” she smiles. I notice her soft lips—they are perfect, too. Her lips—that’s something I shouldn’t notice. Those aren’t part of the costume. Those are just…
her.
And I’ve been looking at them for too long; I look down quickly and begin patting my pockets.

“Damn, keys…” I say, and a second later I feel Paige tug on my thumb, where the key ring is linked. Yeah, that was lame. I shrug, signaling that I’m a dumb-ass, then I let her walk to the car in front of me, so I can watch without her catching me. I’m starting to think Leah isn’t the one who needs to get used to our new roommate—I am.

We get to the park in minutes, and Leah warms up to Paige almost immediately, pulling her to the swings to push her, then dragging her to the slides to watch her race up and down. When she tries to talk Paige into helping her fill water cups to dump in the sand, Paige waves her hand in front of her face and says she’s getting a little warm and tired, and Leah lets her off the hook. She joins me on the bench while Leah runs from the drinking fountain to the sand and back again.

“Hey, thanks for being her playmate today. That’s usually my gig, but she seemed pretty emphatic about you doing it today,” I say, glancing at her as she sits next to me. She lifts her arms and pulls her hair into a pile on top of her head, exposing her neck—I look at that too.

She turns her head to the side to face me, and I adjust quickly, meeting her eyes.
No, Paige…I wasn’t looking at your neck, or thinking about kissing it.

“I was going to walk through campus later, find my classes. What time is your mom making dinner? I don’t want to be late,” she says.

“We usually eat early, probably around five thirty,” I say.

“That should work,” she says, looking forward, picking up her hair again, and I watch. Her fingers move slowly through her hair, wrapping strands around knuckles. It’s such a simple movement, but damn—it’s kind of sexy.

“Stop it!” a voice yells. A voice. A voice! Leah’s voice! I get to my feet, out of my trance fast, and I storm into the sand, but Paige is already ahead of me, her pink shoes kicked off in the grass. I slow my step as Paige has her hand around a little boy’s wrist, a full cup of water in his hand, which is hovering above Leah.

“Owwww, Mommy!” the boy is yelling, twisting his neck over his shoulder. I walk toward Leah and give her my hand to help her up, letting Paige take over the role of bad cop. Another woman rushes to the sand and grabs Paige’s arm, jerking it away from the boy.

“Get your hands off my kid!” the woman practically spits at Paige. Paige doesn’t flinch, instead taking a step toward the woman, leaning in close, her hands on her hip.

“You should teach your kid how to treat girls. This little creep was going to pour water all over her. He was teasing her; I saw the whole thing!” Paige is seething. I feel Leah clutch my leg and I look down at her, worried she’s scared. She’s smiling. She’s watching Paige stand up to someone, and she’s grinning ear-to-ear.

“I should have you arrested!” the woman yells as Paige is turning to walk away. She flips around quickly, stopping at the edge of the sand where she bends down to pick up her shoes, then spins with them dangling from one hand.

“Yeah, well I should have punched you in the nose. So touché,” she says, turning back to me. Her lips are in a hard, straight line, and she passes Leah and me, walking straight to the car. We follow, and Leah skips ahead, climbing in the back seat to reach around from behind to hug Paige. I pause at the front of the car to watch, noting the initial surprise on Paige’s face at the feel of tiny hands around her neck. That shock slides into a proud grin, and she brings her hand up to squeeze Leah’s, patting it once. When she looks up at me, she drops the smile quickly, then looks down at her lap.

Don’t worry, Paige. I didn’t see a thing.

We’re about halfway back to the house, the only sound a commercial playing on the radio, and some haphazard humming coming from Leah in the back seat, when Paige finally talks. “I hate bullies,” she says, her eyes staring straight out the front window.

“Me too,” I say, keeping my gaze on her while we wait at the red light. She never turns to look at me, and she never looks nervous that I’m staring at her. I know she can feel my eyes on her; I catch hers moving to take me in once or twice from the side. But she lets me look, and she doesn’t elaborate on her statement. I don’t ask, but I wonder who was the bully in her life—and maybe, was it her?

P
aige

“
W
e’re
all going to Sally’s for dinner. I thought maybe you’d like to come?” Cass asks. I wasn’t going to answer her call, but I’m walking to campus, and I have to pass the row of frat houses. There are always people hanging outside, and I’d rather be busy on the phone than run into someone I know.

“Oh, uhm…thanks,” I say, kind of surprised that my sister is asking. I had a feeling that the progress we made at home would stop once we got to school. Maybe she just wants to thank me for helping her prank the guys. “I would love to, but I can’t. I have…plans…” I fade my words at the end, suddenly worried I’ve said too much. Cass doesn’t know where I’m living. She doesn’t know much of anything about me right now. “Delta thing,” I add quickly, straightening my posture as I lie through the phone, as if she could see me.

“Oh, okay. Maybe…maybe later this week?” she asks. I feel bad.

“For sure,” I say, looking to my right at a group of guys sitting on one of the front porches. They watch me walk by, and I hear one of them say something to the others; I’m pretty sure one of the words was
ass.
I step a little longer, but I also let my hips move a little more.

I’m not sticking around, boys, but you’re welcome to watch.

Cass says goodbye, and I push my phone in my purse, glad that I was able to stretch my conversation with my sister long enough to make it to campus. I pull the folded campus map from my front purse-pocket, noting the buildings I’ve highlighted. I walk to the first two, relieved when I realize how close they are to each other. They’re different from the buildings I went to last semester, but they’re all familiar. I hate feeling lost. I move to the last one, my Friday lab class, the farthest one from where I’m living now. At least the class is in the late morning, so I won’t have to walk through campus at night.

Satisfied that I can find my way Monday, I begin my trip back to Houston’s house…
my
house. I’m nearing the library when I see Houston sitting on one of the concrete blocks outside the main doors. I stop immediately. I’m not sure why I stop, but I do, because he’s here, and I have a feeling he’s here waiting for me. That’s not okay. I don’t want him here waiting for me.

I pull out my phone and fire off a text.

I wait and watch as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, then gets to his feet, looking in all directions until he spots me. His shoulders slump, and he pulls his phone up in both hands in front of him, his fingers working while he walks slowly in my direction. Oh no, buddy. You stay put!

I’m reading his words and taking slow steps backward when I hear his voice.

“Paranoid much?” he asks.

“Stalker much?” I say back. He smirks, then pushes his phone back into his pocket.

“My mom called. She has to work late. Church is having a carnival. Leah found out, so she wanted to go. I just dropped her off with my mom, but I didn’t want you to think we abandoned you, so…” he says, holding his hands out as if he just performed some amazing magic trick and appeared here in a puff of smoke.

“So, you came to rescue me,” I say through pursed lips.