The Girl I Was Before

by Ginger Scott

  “I’m not looking, I swear,” I say, keeping my eyes at the floor as I barge into the bathroom. I cannot believe I’m doing this.

  “Out!” she yells from behind the shower curtain. “Not even funny. Not even clever. Out, you fuck stick, out!”

  Her anger makes me laugh, and fuck stick? Really?

  “I have to brush my teeth. We’re pushing it close on time. I’ll be fast, and I’ll keep my face forward. I swear,” I say.

  I’ve already brushed my teeth, but she doesn’t know that. I turn on the water and load up my brush. I hear the curtain slide behind me, and I know she’s looking at me. I don’t have to turn around or look into the reflection to know what her face looks like—her brow is furrowed and her lips are tight, and she’s making sure I’m keeping my promise. Don’t worry Paige; I won’t look. But I know you want me to.

  I’m spitting into the sink and reaching for the towel by feeling, careful not to glance up, when I hear the water switch off and the curtain slide open. There’s no towel near her or the tub; I know it because I see them hanging on the rack several steps away. She’s cheating.

  I notice her shape move into my periphery to my right, and I glance briefly to catch her hand reach for the towel. When I see her back is to me, I go ahead and look long enough to take a mental picture. Her hair is soaking wet and dripping a line down her perfectly sun-kissed skin, a trail of water I let my eyes follow down her shoulder blades, to the small of her back, to an ass that is so perfect I wish I were the kind of asshole who would reach out and smack it at a time like this. I just hold my breath and memorize it instead. I turn back to the sink, lay my towel down, and move to leave.

  “You looked,” she says, and I pause with my hand on the doorknob, the curves of her body now ingrained in my memory. I smile.

  “Yeah, I did,” I say, before stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind me.

  * * *

  Paige is true to her word, and she’s dressed and ready to leave within five minutes, her wet hair twisted and tucked into a McConnell hat. She meets me at the bottom of the stairs, and I expect her to be blushing. The fact that she isn’t is somehow sexier. I’m playing with fire, but I think I’ll be okay getting a little burned.

  “Hey, so…I have to confess something,” I say as we step through the door. I pull out my keys to lock up, and when I turn, she’s already marched to the car, not waiting for me, or caring what I have to confess it seems. I can’t help but laugh quietly.

  I open the back door to drop my bag in the back seat, but before shutting it, I unzip the laptop pouch and slide her computer out, bringing it into the front seat with me.

  “I borrowed your laptop last night,” I say, holding it out for her to take. She stares at it, her face questioning why I have it in the first place. It’s heavy, so after a few seconds I rest it on her lap, my fingers grazing the tops of her thighs as I pull my hand away. She looks at me fast, almost offended, but I avert my eyes. “Relax, it’s just a laptop.”

  I stare forward long enough to feel her scowl at me from the side; I turn to face out my window, not wanting her to see my smirk.

  We drive in silence for a block or two, and she finally slides her laptop into her own bag, slowly pulling the zipper. Letting myself glance in her direction, I see the worry lines on her forehead as she keeps her gaze on her bag, which she’s now hugging in her lap. She knows I took it to watch the video.

  “You said it wasn’t you…the other night,” I speak carefully, not saying the word video or even admitting out loud that I watched it. She already knows, but keeping the conversation less direct might make her more willing to talk about it. Especially after I shut her out the first time she tried.

  “You…watched it?” she asks. “The whole thing…”

  I nod.

  We pull into my lot. I don’t like to spend money on parking fees since I live close, so we’re still a bit of a haul away from the main part of campus. Sometimes when I’m running late, though, even getting this much closer saves me precious seconds in my carefully-timed life.

  “I saw it the first time, on Casey’s phone,” I say, glancing at her. She’s frozen in her seat, her normal fire gone.

  “Oh,” she says, her eyes lost out the front window at the row of cars parked in front of us.

  “You’re right,” I say, expecting her to smile. Expecting…something. Instead, she inhales slowly before turning to face me. “It isn’t you—at least, not in the bad parts. That’s not…you.”

  I didn’t make a copy; not one I saved. But I did run her video through editing software so I could look at sections frame by frame. Whoever did this was sloppy.

  She lets her head fall against the headrest, her eyes focused just beyond me at first, then moving to mine. She shrugs. “I know. But what good does that do me?”

  I sigh heavily, but I don’t have an answer for her.

  “Is this why you left Delta? Why you had to move out?” I ask.

  “It’s…part of it,” she says. Everything about her looks defeated. I’m sure the alcohol is partly to blame for dragging her down this morning. But this sadness…it’s more than that.

  “Cass doesn’t know?” I ask, and her eyes flit back up to mine for a second. She shakes her head no.

  “I won’t tell her,” I say.

  “Thanks,” she says, a smile there for me, if only for a second.

  “Maybe no one else will see it,” I say, trying to give her hope.

  “You saw it,” she says, the tears welling in her eyes. She takes a sharp breath, and in a second, they’re dry. I know she’s hurt, but I also know it’s more important to her to act this way—to be strong.

  We both step out of the car, bags slung over our shoulders. I watch her transformation, the way she shuffles her posture, tucks the few drying strands of hair under her hat, and touches up the lipstick in the corners of her mouth. Nobody would ever guess how broken she is inside. When she turns to face me, she smiles as if nothing’s wrong. It’s the same expression she wore the first time we met, when she slid an order ticket over the counter to me at the store.

  “Don’t look at me like I’m pathetic,” she says, her lips forming a tight line, the slightest curl masking her hurt. She’s a politician. “I’m not, and I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

  I nod once, and she turns to walk away. After a few steps, she twists and takes a few steps backward. “Oh, and Ty sent me a text. He wants you to come play poker with him and a few of the guys tonight—early, at like six. You should go. Ty…he’s a good guy. You’d like him. I’ll hang out with Leah.”

  She’s still looking at me, slowly walking away, waiting for my approval. This is a test; I can tell. She wants to know if I trust her to stay home with Leah. Will I put my heart in her hands?

  “Sounds good,” I say, careful to keep the pounding of nerves in my stomach away from my expression. “Text me his info.”

  She smiles again, and this time, it’s different. It’s not painted on, or pretend. It’s real. And I put it there. Because I trust her. Because I believe her. And she might not think there’s anything she can do about the video, but I’m not giving up quite so easily.

  * * *

  I finished my coding for class in record time, and I got to work an hour early. It was an inventory day, and because I started early, Chuck was fine with me leaving a little early too. I wanted to be home before my mom, in time to prep Leah. I didn’t want my mom stepping in, taking over. I wanted Paige to have this chance to prove she could do this.

  I want her to succeed.

  My mom gave me the face she’s famous for, laced with warnings to be careful and be guarded in trusting Leah in the care of just anyone. Dating is one thing, but getting Leah attached to someone is something else entirely. I get it. But she still left and went to her bunko game-night. I think it helped that she’s only down the road. I think knowing that helped Paige a little, too.

  Paige looked nervous. Leah looked excit
ed. The second I told my daughter that Paige would be babysitting her tonight, she proceeded to pull out every single game in her closet—digging into the depths to find the ones she hasn’t played with in months. She’s showing off. That’s part of showing off when you’re a kid—you don’t have much of your own, but you’ve got toys. And Leah pulled them all out and put them on display.

  I could sense the nerves in Paige’s voice when I told her I wouldn’t be late. And I saw the relief when I held up my phone and told her to call if she needed anything. But she hasn’t called. Not once.

  We’ve gone through two hours of Texas Hold ‘em, and I’ve lost forty bucks to Nate, the king of poker faces. I’m down to my final chips, and as much fun as I’ve had being a regular guy for once, I’m sort of itching to get home.

  “One more hand, and I think I’m out, guys. Sorry, this is late for me,” I say, realizing mid-sentence how strange that probably sounds. They don’t know about Leah, and I feel like maybe I should talk to Paige before I let them in on it. Ty met her, but as far as he knows, she’s my baby sister.

  “Dude, it’s like, what…nine? Nine-thirty?” Ty says, shuffling, then dealing out another round of cards. There are five of us here; Nate brought two of the guys from his team.

  “Yeah, but I work crazy hours, so my clock’s sort of messed up,” I say, glancing at my hand and trying to hide two poker faces now. I have a pair of jacks. I also have more than just a messed-up work schedule. This table doesn’t need to know either.

  “I feel ya. I guess that’s why you can live with Paige. I bet you hardly see her,” Ty says, looking up at me as he takes a long sip from his beer. He’s studying me, waiting for my tell.

  “I guess so,” I say, moving my attention back to my cards. They’re still two jacks, just like they were when I first got them dealt to me. I’m staring at the heart and the club, pretending to be thinking about odds and possibilities, but I’m really wondering if Ty’s still watching me, waiting for me to break about Paige. I risk it and look back up, and his eyes are waiting for me. Everyone else is into their own hands, but Ty’s got me figured out. He smiles, then slowly chuckles to himself. This has nothing to do with poker, and everything to do with what he’s just figured out—Paige is mine. More accurately, I’m hers.

  “All right, Texas,” Ty says to me. “Bet’s to you.”

  I glance at my cards again, a move that’s only for show, then lay them face down and sit back with my hands behind my neck, chewing at the inside of my cheek, looking at the cards on the table.

  “I’m all in,” I say, pushing my stack, which isn’t much, to the center of the table.

  Ty’s eyes are waiting for me when I look up, and he raises a brow, glances at his own cards, and tosses them on the table.

  “I’m out,” he says, sitting back and folding his arms.

  “I don’t know, I think dude’s bluffin’. I call,” Nate says.

  “Get ready to lose your shirt, bro. This dude’s the real deal,” Ty says, laughing to himself as he moves away from the table and pushes into a small kitchen area. I think the apartment belongs to one of the other guys—who follows Ty’s lead and folds. The other one has most of the chips on the table, so he tosses in the few it takes to see my bet through.

  With every flip of the cards, nothing comes up, and even though I can’t bet, the others raise their own. I’m probably screwed; when I make eye contact with Ty, I realize I’m probably screwed in more ways than one. I’m ruined because I’m falling for a girl who’s a tremendous pain in the ass. That’s where Ty thinks the line is—little does he know that the baggage I drag over that line makes things a whole hell of a lot more complicated.

  But I’m all in, falling for her anyway. There’s no taking that bet back now.

  With the last cards tipped on the table, I flip mine over first, expecting to watch my final chips get swept away.

  “You’re kidding me—a pair of jacks? You went all in with a pair of jacks?” Nate says, rubbing his face and leaning back in his chair, tipping it so the front legs lift from the floor.

  “Go big or go home,” I say.

  “Hell yeah, bro,” Ty says, reaching his beer over the table to tap it into mine. I drank two beers tonight, slowly, over two hours. I wanted to be able to drive if I had to, but I also didn’t want to seem like a pansy-ass in front of Ty. I’m pretty sure he’s the kind of guy who can really give someone shit when he feels like it. “Take your chips.”

  I look down when he says that and realize I bluffed my way into winning my money back. I didn’t mean to. When I went all in, I felt pretty good about the jacks. Didn’t think they’d be all I needed.

  “Thanks, boys. It’s been a pleasure,” I say, cashing out and putting the forty bucks back in my wallet.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Nate says, sweeping the cards into a pile and shuffling as I head to the door.

  “Oh hey, and Houston…Nate’s game with the scouts is next week. Cass is coming, and I think she’d like it if Paige came. Just…if you can help that out a little,” Ty says. We exchange an understanding stare.

  “Yeah, I’ll work on it,” I say.

  “Good. Thanks. Oh, and just a tip…that bluffing shit—” he pauses, holding the door open as I step outside onto the pavement, “it won’t work with her. She’ll see right through it all—trust me. Just give it to her straight. Ya know, if you wanna get anywhere.”

  I hold up my hand with my keys, eyes wide, and nod. I don’t think I can really bluff Ty either. I won’t pretend to.

  The trip in my car is silent. I don’t even bother with the radio; I’m too consumed with her. I pulled my phone out at the first stoplight, wanting to send Paige a text that I was on my way, but then I wasn’t sure what to type. I turned the lights out before I drove into the driveway. I know it’s barely ten at night, but they both might be asleep.

  I can see the light from Leah’s room spilling into the hallway upstairs, so I slip my shoes from my feet and glide up as quietly as I can. She usually stays awake waiting for me on late work nights. She says she just likes to say goodnight, but I kind of think she worries I won’t come home at all.

  “But what about the princess?” I hear Leah ask. I’m about to step into her room when I pause, not wanting to interrupt. I turn the corner so my back is flush against the wall outside her door.

  “Right. The princess,” Paige says. She’s quiet for a few seconds, and I can hear the pages of the book turning. Leah loves princesses—anything in a big dress with hair and glitter. “How does this story usually go?”

  “The mean witch locks Delilah up in the tower, and then the prince gets his friends together so they can save her, but when he gets there, the tower is scary, so all his friends leave, and he has to fight the witch and her dragon alone. He kills them, and then saves the princess and they run away and get married.”

  Leah is out of breath when she finishes retelling Paige the entire princess book. I smile at her voice, doing my best not to laugh at her enthusiasm over a story she’s heard no less than a hundred times.

  Then Paige begins to talk, and my chest grows heavy.

  “I’d like to tell you a different version, if that’s okay,” she says.

  “What’s a version?” Leah asks. I cover my mouth with my knuckle, smiling against it.

  “It’s sort of like, hmmmm…it’s kind of a different way the story could go. You know how you get up in the morning and decide what you’re going to wear? And maybe if you wear a dress, that means you can’t do cartwheels or swing on the swings. But what if you wore shorts instead?”

  “I’d swing,” Leah says excitedly, then whispers, “sometimes I swing in the dress. Grandma yells that I’m showing my underwear.”

  She giggles and Paige laughs with her.

  “Right, but most of the time, what you decide in the morning might mean you do different things later. Well what would happen if Delilah decided not to wait for the prince?” Paige asks.

  “Oh no!” Lea
h’s genuinely worried by this. I’m…fascinated. I slide down slowly so I’m sitting against the wall now, my legs bent up under my arms, careful not to be seen. I don’t want to distract either of them.

  “Well maybe…oh no. Or…maybe what Delilah decides—when the evil witch locks her up—is that she’s tired of being pushed around,” Paige says. I lay my face flat against my hands, so desperate for her version now.

  “Delilah is scared at first. She’s never really been good at fighting. Her dad always led the army. And her mom only decorates for balls and picks flowers in the garden and things like that. So Delilah spends the first night alone, in the dark room, locked away in the tower, hoping someone will save her. But when she wakes up the next morning, she realizes that nothing bad happened to her. The dark was scary, but nothing happened. She’s okay. So she finds a slender piece of wood along the floor and uses it to pick the lock.”

  “Oh no!” Leah says, but Paige stops her from worrying.

  “Just wait,” Paige says. “She picks the lock, and nobody is near by. So she decides to explore the stairway, to see how high it goes, how deep it is, and if there is a way to get outside. When she hears someone coming, she runs back to her small room and locks the door, tucking the tiny wood pick into the braid of her hair.”

  “Every day, she explores a little farther, finding new doors, trying new hallways. And then finally…she finds a tunnel.”

  “There’s a tunnel?” Leah asks.

  “Oh yes. There’s a tunnel. But you only find it if you’re brave enough to look. Delilah was brave, so she found it. She was also getting stronger, because every night, when she would explore, she would run, and have to pull herself up high on walls, crawl through tight spaces, and lift heavy things. When she found the tunnel, she decided she needed to escape the next night, well after midnight, when she knew the guards would be sleepy. But what she didn’t know, was that the prince was coming to save her at the very same time.”

  “He was?” Leah asks.

  “Yes, he was. When the moon was at its highest, Delilah picked her lock and made her way to her tunnel, crawling through the narrow damp passageway until she felt the cold air from outside hit her cheeks. She kept her body low to the ground, crawling on her belly under fence after fence, through mud, through a thick forest of trees, all the way to the dangerous guard gates and the wall of fire. She’d practiced the timing, and she knew she could get across it if she was careful counting the seconds in-between flames. But when the time was ready for her to run and make her escape, she heard shouting and fighting.”