Becoming Sarah

by Simon, Miranda

  She peered into my eyes. “You’re not on something, are you?” she asked sharply.

  “No! I just – I have to go.” I sprinted out of there, leaving her to gawk after me.

  That hadn’t gone well, not well at all. By the time I got back to Sarah’s apartment, I was half panicked. What if this woman spread the word? What if she told everyone that I wasn’t Sarah at all?

  Stop it, I told myself sternly, as I let myself into the apartment. So I didn’t know a few of Sarah’s friends. So what? I could claim to have some kind of amnesia. What could they do, anyway? No one could prove anything.

  The message light was flashing on the answering machine. I pushed the button. Had Nick called already, as he’d promised? I’d had a few texts on Sarah’s iPhone, just her friends trying to make plans to go out, but nothing from Nick.

  Sarah’s mother. “Hello, dear. I haven’t heard from you in so long. Please give me a call as soon as you can – I’m a little worried.”

  A woman’s voice, young and full of laughter. She had a faint French accent. “Hello, there. It’s your old pal Aurélie. Remember me? Yes, the one you haven’t called in nearly a million years. Did you turn off your cell phone or something? I left two voicemails last week. Anyway, I’m here with Liza and we’ve decided we’re taking you out tonight. Be ready about 10:30. We’ll have a fabulous time, I promise. Ciao, darling.”

  A third message, this one from a man who didn’t sound at all pleased. “Sarah, it’s Charles Young. You’ll notice that it’s the fifth of the month. I still have not received your rent check, and I must remind you that this is the third time this year you’ve been late. I’ll expect the check in my mailbox by the middle of next week, rent plus the late penalty.”

  Oh, hell. Nothing from Nick, and Sarah was as irresponsible as my mother. And, worse, I had no idea where to send the check. I didn’t even know where to find Sarah’s checkbook, and the bank was closed until tomorrow.

  I rushed around the apartment in a frenzy, pulling out drawers and ransacking them. Nothing. I tried the kitchen, living room, and spare room with no luck. In the bedroom I pulled out the drawer next to the bed. There was the checkbook, and – oh, crap. A round plastic compact, beige.

  I snapped it open.

  Birth control pills. Pills I hadn’t been taking.

  I’d had sex with Nick early this afternoon. Unprotected sex.

  How stupid could I be? The pills were marked by day of the week. Sarah had taken the last pill on Tuesday. Today was Friday, so even if I took one right now, I’d missed two already.

  Oh, God, what if I was pregnant? My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t stop shaking. What if I got evicted? What if Sarah’s friend knew I was an imposter? What if I’d somehow screwed things up with Nick, and he never did call? Two days in this body and I’d made a mess of things already.

  My heart was beating too fast and all the thoughts in my head went round and round and round. My body shook. I was breathing hard, from fear rather than exertion. I’d never felt like this before. It was like I was having a heart attack or something.

  I had to get out. I ran through the apartment, out the door, and down the first flight of stairs. It was only when I heard my door slam closed that I realized I’d left the keys on the kitchen counter.

  Overwhelmed, my knees too weak to hold me, I collapsed on the top stair on the third-floor landing. “Damn, damn, damn,” I yelled. How could I be so stupid?

  I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked myself. I’d been pretty competent for a 16-year-old. I’d dealt with some major adult problems. My mom’s drinking, for one. Her financial troubles. I knew how to put her to bed after she passed out and how to feed the two of us on less than $50 a week. But this life – Sarah’s life – was careening out of control. It seemed somehow more complicated. I’d skipped ahead, and in doing so missed all kinds of things like living in a dorm, getting a boyfriend my own age, making small mistakes instead of big ones. I wasn’t ready to be 24 and on my own.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A door opened behind me. “Sarah? Is t-that you?”

  I swiped at my eyes with my fingertips. My fingers came away moist. “Matt. Hi.”

  He flashed me a puppy-dog smile. “You remembered my name.”

  “Of course.”

  “So, what’s going on? I thought I heard. . .”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged and forced a laugh. “I was yelling at myself for being such an idiot. I locked myself out. Hey, mind if I use your phone to call a locksmith?”

  “Maybe I can do better than that. Come on in.”

  I followed Matt into his apartment. Pretty sparse furnishings, but clean for a bachelor pad. A pile of Dominoes pizza boxes in the kitchen, a big TV dominating the living room, a wall calendar featuring women in swimsuits. Matt noticed me noticing the calendar. Color flooded his cheeks. “That’s my roommate’s. He’s not here a lot. He’s got a girlfriend over in the Marina. You’ve probably seen him around – he’s got red hair?”

  “Um, yeah. I think I’ve seen him.”

  Matt motioned me over to a window in the living room. “So anyway, I thought maybe I could climb up the fire escape here and get into your place. If you haven’t locked the window, that is. Have you?”

  “I’m not sure.” It was kind of cute the way Matt talked fast when he was nervous. He was starting to grow on me. “Are you sure it’s not too dangerous? Because I can just –“

  “No, no. No problem. Let me give it a try.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Matt opened his window and crawled outside. I leaned out to watch him climb the ladder to the fourth floor. “Careful!” I called.

  He jiggled my window. “I’ve got it! It’s not locked,” he hollered down. “I’m going in. Meet me at your front door, okay?”

  I climbed the stairs and arrived in time to see Matt open my door from the inside. “Welcome, madame,” he joked as he ushered me inside.

  “Thank you so much.”

  We stood in my living room. An awkward moment of silence loomed between us. “Uh, so. . .” he began, just as I said, “Well, anyway. . .”

  We laughed together, which broke the tension. “You first,” he said.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Sure, please.”

  I opened the fridge. “I’ve got water or, um, that’s about it.”

  “Water’s fine.”

  I fetched two glasses, added ice, and poured the Evian. We stood in the kitchen. “It’s funny,” Matt said, “but there’s something about you – you seem different than before.”

  “Yeah? In what way?” I really was curious, not worried that Matt would see through my pretense. “What am I usually like?”

  “Oh, um, I didn’t mean – that is, I’m not saying I know you very well. It’s just that today, you know, you’re kind of. . .warmer.” He was blushing. “Maybe that’s the wrong word. I don’t know. You seem more down to earth. Not that you were aloof or anything before.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Heat rose to my cheeks, too. “So, I guess we’ve never had much of a chance to talk.”

  He shook his head. “You’re always rushing somewhere, all dressed up for something. You’ve never had much time to hang around and chat. Not that you’re rude or anything. God, I’m sorry. I’m always saying the wrong things.” He buried his face in his hands.

  I smiled and touched his arm. “That's not true. But just so you know, I feel that way, too. All the time.”

  He raised his head. “You? No way. You’ve always seemed so confident.”

  If only he knew. “Not always.” I laughed. “I’ve hardly been confident the last couple of times you've seen me. In fact, I've been a total mess."

  “Yeah.” He tilted his head toward me. “For some reason I’m thinking there’s more wrong today than getting locked out.”

  Where to begin? This was the first time in days I’d had a normal conversation, and I wasn’t about to spoil it with huge li
e. On the other hand, he would hardly believe the truth. “You’re right,” I said, “but I can’t really talk about it.”

  “If you ever want to, you know where I live.”

  “Thanks.” I had a sudden thought. “Hey, you can help with something. Somehow I managed to lose the address for our landlord, and my rent is late. You wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

  “Sure, downstairs. I’ll get it for you.”

  I followed Matt to his apartment, where he wrote out Charles Young’s address. “Thanks again,” I said. “For everything.”

  “Sure. Hey, have you had dinner?”

  “Not yet.”

  “There’s this Italian place in North Beach that’s really good. Uh, maybe I c-could take you tonight?”

  He’d relaxed earlier and lost his stutter, but it was back. I realized this wasn’t a casual question. “Like, on a date?”

  “Uh, I guess. Yeah.”

  A part of me was tempted. Matt seemed to like me, Jamie, as a person. He was easy to talk to. He was even, in his own way, kind of cute. If I'd still been in my old body, I would have been thrilled that he'd asked me out. But I wasn't in my old body. I was in Sarah's, and she could have any guy she wanted. I couldn't quite picture someone like Sarah dating someone like Matt.

  Besides, I already had a boyfriend -- Nick. A gorgeous, charming boyfriend who was supposed to call me tonight. I also had Sarah’s friends coming over in a few hours.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  Matt’s face fell, but he shrugged. “Sure, I understand.”

  “I’m kind of with someone.”

  “The blonde guy. Yeah, I’ve seen him around. So, okay, no problem.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve got to go.”

  On the way out, I tried not to notice the disappointment plain on Matt’s face.

  I went grocery shopping. It was a new experience for me; for once, I had plenty of cash in my pocket. My stomach was growling, so I loaded up my basket. I got some of my old staples, like spaghetti and pasta sauce in a jar, but I also tried some of the kinds of things I thought Sarah might eat. I bought a hunk of real parmesan cheese, instead of the dry stuff in a can. I grabbed a pint of fresh strawberries, just because they smelled so good when I walked by the produce department. I picked out a loaf of crusty bread fresh from the bakery, instead of the sliced white bread I used to buy.

  I walked home lugging my bags, feeling better than I had since I’d woken up on the bathroom floor. I fixed myself dinner and ate it slowly at Sarah’s long dining room table, with her heavy silverware and a cloth napkin on my lap.

  After dinner, I picked up Sarah’s birth control pills from the floor where I’d dropped them. I read the package insert carefully. It said I had to take two pills today and two tomorrow, to make up for the ones I’d missed. It added that I should use a back up method for the rest of the month. If I was pregnant already, the damage was done, but I promised myself that I’d be more careful from now on.

  I wrote out a check to the landlord, using Sarah’s past bank statements as my guide, then added $200. I hoped that would take care of the late fee; if not, I was sure to hear back from the landlord.

  By the time 10:30 rolled around, I felt more in control. Still, my stomach turned double somersaults as soon as the intercom chimed. Matt had barely known Sarah, and he’d guessed something was different. What would her close friends think?

  I buzzed them in.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A blonde girl in her mid-20s, almost painfully thin, in three inch heels and a gold halter top, came bounding up the stairs. “Quelle catastrophe! Sarah – what are you wearing?” she shrieked, in the accent I recognized from her phone message.

  I glanced down at myself. I hadn’t changed out of the skirt and shirt I’d picked out that afternoon. I’d thought it would be fine for going out. Apparently not. “Um, I was just going to change."

  “I should hope so!”

  Another girl, also scantily clad, came up behind the first. She was Asian; her stick-straight hair hung almost to her waist. She wore shiny black leather boots that laced up to her thighs, a microscopic miniskirt, and a see-through chiffon blouse.

  “God, Sarah, I hope you’re not going out like that,” she said.

  “She’s changing, don’t worry.” Aurélie ushered me toward the bedroom. She flung open the closet door. “What shall you wear?”

  I shrugged. “Help me pick something?”

  Aurélie pulled out a plum-colored strapless dress with a fringe on the skirt. “What about this?”

  The other girl leaned against the doorframe. “She wore it last week.”

  “So. Liza says no to the dress. What else?” She held up a pair of black tuxedo pants. “Yes, good. And perhaps. . .” She rifled through Sarah’s blouses and chose a skimpy silk camisole. “This, I think.” She tossed me the outfit, then rooted around in her purse for a packet of cigarettes. “So, darling, put it on. We have places to go, people to see.”

  As I changed, Aurélie lit her cigarette and took a puff. “Beautiful,” she exclaimed, when I finished.

  She tossed me a pair of shoes, heels with straps that wound up around my ankles. I put them on.

  “Good,” Liza said. She dug into her purse and came up with a tube of lipstick. “Try this.”

  I leaned close to the mirror and applied it awkwardly. The lipstick was a deep blood red. I’d never worn anything like it – Chapstick was more my style – but I liked the effect. It made me feel bold and a little wild, utterly unlike my old, boring, unglamorous self.

  Aurélie picked out a tiny beaded black bag to go with my outfit. I stashed my wallet and keys inside.

  “Ready?” Aurélie asked.

  “Ready.”

  “You’re driving, right?” Liza asked.

  Panic closed my throat. “What? Me?”

  “Come on, why not? It’s a pain finding a cab this time of night.”

  Why not indeed? Only that I didn’t know where Sarah parked her car, and I was far from confident in my ability to drive it.

  I let Aurélie and Liza lead the way out of my building. They headed down the block, straight toward a sleek black convertible parked at the curb. Liza plucked a slip of paper of the windshield. “Forget to move the car for street cleaning?”

  “I guess so.” I took the parking ticket and stuffed it in my bag before I hit the button on my keychain. The car beeped; the locks shot open. I climbed into the driver’s seat, my heart in my throat. Liza got in the back seat. Aurélie slid in beside me.

  The engine started easily with the turn of my key. I eased out onto the street. Driver’s ed felt like a distant memory. Thank God there wasn’t much traffic this time of night. “Where to?” I asked.

  Aurélie named a club downtown. When I gave her a blank look, she sighed. “We only go every weekend, Sarah. You can park in the garage at Fifth and Mission, like always.”

  I did know where that was – next to the Metreon, a bunch of shops and a movie theater. I drove there carefully, and so slowly that some guy in a car behind me honked in frustration. I also managed to forget about a one-way street, and had to go all the way around.

  “At this rate, it’ll be dawn before we get there,” Liza complained.

  “You drive like an old lady,” Aurélie added.

  This was hard enough without the constant stream of criticism. “So one of you drive next time,” I snapped.

  They both burst out laughing. “Ooooh, she’s in a mood,” Liza said.

  Aurélie nudged my shoulder. “Fighting with Nick again?”

  “No, actually. Everything’s fine with Nick.” Though, come to think of it, he’d never called. “I just saw him today.”

  “Mmm. I’ll bet.” Aurélie nudged me again. “How much of him did you see, exactly?”

  My cheeks burned hot as I flashed back to Nick’s visit. “Enough.”

  “Wonderful. So he’s finally left his wife?”

  We were in the mid
dle of a block, but I slammed on the brakes. The car behind us screeched to a halt just in time, and Liza let out a shriek of fear.

  “His wife?” I choked the words out. Blood roared in my ears.

  “Of course, his wife,” Aurélie said calmly. “You said last week that you wouldn’t sleep with him again until he left her. Of course, you’ve been saying that for almost a year.”

  Cars behind us were honking furiously. “Go, go,” Liza yelled, right into my ear. “Do you want to kill us all?”

  I drove, but I barely saw the road in front of me. How could this be? Nick, the perfect boyfriend, married?

  I made a right into the garage and parked in the basement. Aurélie and Liza led the way to the club; I trailed behind. First I was crushed, then furious. Furious at Sarah, for getting herself into this situation. Furious at myself, for blindly forgiving him when I didn’t know why they’d fought. Furious at Nick, for being lying, cheating scum.

  At the club, the bouncer checked our ID – as Sarah, I was legal – and let us in. Liza grabbed my arm. “Hey, Sarah, you don’t mind covering this, do you? Aurélie and I are both pretty strapped for cash.”

  “Sure,” I said, still in a daze as I handed over a hefty wad of bills. We plunged together into a dark, crowded room throbbing to a DJ’s beat. Strobe lights threw out a dazzle of rainbow colors. So many people, such loud music – I’d never been to a club before, only high school dances, and I felt out of my element. At the same time, though, I picked up on the current of excitement, the sense of possibility, and my body swayed in time to the music almost against my will.

  “Come on, let’s get a drink,” Liza shouted. Aurélie took my hand and pulled me toward the bar.

  I felt a stab of alarm. I’d had a beer once, at Maria’s house. We stole it from the fridge and shared it in her bedroom. We’d reeled around the room, flopped on her bed, and pretended to be drunk. But even then I’d had my qualms. Alcoholism was genetic. All my life I’d vowed I wouldn’t turn out like my mom’s.