Life Before

by Michele Bacon

  We hang up a minute later, and that phrase repeats in my head: a whole new life. Of course, this whole episode isn’t something I can just leave behind. Kat is right: This is my life—every wretched, terrifying moment.

  I’m free. Completely free. The ugliest parts of my life end with Gary’s arrest, and now I can move forward.

  I’m laughing like a maniac who has just been released from prison unexpectedly. Because I have.

  Curt pokes his nose out the door. “You gonna be okay?”

  It takes me a minute to get my laughing and crying under control. “I am. I think I’ll be okay. I can go home tomorrow. Or today. Probably tomorrow.”

  “Good on you. Lemme know how I can help.”

  “A Reuben?”

  Curt grins. “Extra special breakfast Reuben, with extra dressing and root beer. You got it.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  My last night at Curt’s house is just like my first. He’s in his date clothes in the kitchen. I swear, my time here might have been better served mining his brain for dating tips. Seriously.

  “Tomorrow, let’s leave at nine to get you to the station. Sure you feel alright?” he says.

  I do. I feel alright. “Yeah. And Kat is here for company.”

  Curt whistles low and slow. He mouths, “Good luck with that.”

  Yeah, that’s something else I have to get through.

  “Thanks, Curt. For everything. Have a great date.”

  A sly smile. “Oh, I will.”

  The second he’s out the door, Kat narrows her eyes at me. “You’re leaving?”

  Jill’s iPod pings. Someone is sending messages at nine on a Friday night.

  “Yeah! I mean, sorry you found out this way, but yeah. I’m going home tomorrow.”

  In the middle of the kitchen in her John Lennon shirt, she opens and closes her mouth several times before finding words. “Well, thanks for listening. While it lasted.” She starts packing up her books.

  Ping! Ping! Ping!

  “While it lasted, Kat? Hey, why’s it gotta be like that?”

  Kat crosses her arms over John Lennon. “I just didn’t expect this.”

  Ping!

  I probably shouldn’t pull out the iPod, but someone is trying really hard to reach me. A quick glance at the screen shows five messages from Gretchen. Gretchen with her long, tanned, muscular legs.

  Kat says, “You’re leaving tomorrow? In like twelve hours. Could you hold off with the texts for five seconds?”

  Probably. I send a message to Gretchen—Occupied at the moment. I’ll be online later—and tuck the iPod in my back pocket. “Sorry. Sorry. You were saying?”

  “I said thanks for listening. Thanks for seeing me, you know?” She heads for the back door.

  “That’s it? Aren’t you gonna stick around?”

  Kat shrugs. “I have at least an hour of studying for my Saturday class.”

  “You were just needling me about texting. How about you do your studying, I’ll catch up with my people. Then we can talk. I’m not leaving right this second.”

  We migrate to the living room, where Kat curls up on one end of the green velour couch and cracks open a textbook. She is lovely.

  I ping Gretchen: Here now.

  She isn’t online anymore. Jill is, though, and she gives me the low-down on the last seven hours.

  Every ten minutes or so, Kat shifts into a new position.

  And finally Gretchen is back.

  Gretch: I am SO EXCITED!!!!!

  Fraught with expectation and exclamation points. Five exclamation points. We’re going to be just fine.

  Me: Me, too. I have so much to tell you. Are you coming to Quaker Steak Sunday?

  Gretch: YES!!!!! Jill invited everyone.

  Me: Yeah, I know.

  Gretch: Maybe Monday I can have you all to myself? You working?

  Me: Doubt it. Haven’t been in touch with the cages since I left.

  Gretch: Yeah, you sort of disappeared.

  Is that an accusation?

  Me: I hope you understand why.

  Kat says, “One more page and I’m done.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Jill pings in a separate conversation: Gretchen is coming Sunday.

  Me: Yeah, she told me.

  Jill: Did she tell you she suggested you two could come alone in her car?

  Me: Nope. Good! She wants me all to herself.

  Jill: I love her, but she needs to get in line.

  Me: Ha! Give me a sec, I’m talking to her.

  Jill: Tuck wants my full attention anyway. Talk later.

  Me: K bye.

  Gretchen has been pinging while I chatted with Jill.

  Gretch: So, Monday? The Italian Festival starts Monday.

  Gretch: They have more rides than last year. We could get a pass.

  Gretch: Their Napoleons are gorgeous. Gelato.

  Gretch: Or Italian ice, if we want to go low-brow.

  Gretch: We should just wander around and try everything.

  Gretch: Except the Red Blood Cake, of course. Blech.

  Gretch: Hello?

  Me: Sorry. Definitely no on the Red Blood Cake

  Me: But yes on everything else. I’d *Rome* anywhere with you.

  Gretch: OMG. I have missed you so much.

  She has opened the door. Maybe I can push it open a little wider.

  Me: Really?

  Gretch: So much!

  Gretch: The puns. The snappy banter.

  Gretch: The make-out sessions in the middle of nowhere.

  “That’s a Cheshire grin,” Kat says.

  “What?” I glance at her quickly, then back to Gretchen on my screen. “Just getting ready to see my friends, you know? It’s been awhile.”

  Me: They have forests up here, you know.

  Gretch: What have you been doing all these weeks, exactly?

  Oh shit.

  Me: Nothing! Promise!

  That’s not exactly true. Gretchen probably would not consider pressing my body against Kat nothing. I wouldn’t consider a date with Evan at the Mocha House nothing, either. But maybe Gretchen considered that nothing the way I considered the blues bar nothing.

  Gosh, she is slow to reply.

  Very slow.

  Gretch: Okay. Well, we have a lot of catching up to do.

  Gretch: As previously discussed.

  Me: Yes!

  I am super excited about making out with Gretchen, but I’m holding out hope for more than making out. Her hair getting tangled around my fingers. Her legs, maybe tangled up with mine. The kissing thing is good. Her body is amazing.

  My body is getting too excited just thinking about it.

  Me: Let’s start catching up as soon as possible.

  “Okay, I’m done for the night.” Kat scoots closer to me.

  Gretch: I was thinking maybe I could drive you home after QS on Sunday?

  Me: Cool.

  I can’t look at Kat. “Cool.”

  Kat is right next to me. “I just thought, you know, we could talk. What with it being your last night and all.”

  Gretch: Great! I’ll tell Jill.

  “Graham?”

  Gretch: She and Tucker have been inseparable for weeks.

  I hold up peace fingers to Kat. “Give me two seconds.” Every few seconds, she bounces a little, like Jill does on our way to concerts.

  Gretch: So she shouldn’t mind.

  Me: I can’t wait.

  Me: Hey, I need to get offline now.

  Gretch: No problem. Can’t wait to see you!

  Me: Chat or email later, okay?

  Gretch: Yes! Both!

  Me: DEF see you Sunday

  Me: AND Monday!

  Gretch: YAY!!!!!

  Gretch: Night, Xander.

  Me: Night.

  Giddy, I tuck the iPod into my back pocket and turn to Kat.

  “I meant what I said,” Kat says, scooting closer to me. “Thanks for seeing me. I mostly keep my head down and mostly don’t
notice other people not noticing me. But with you, I felt like I wasn’t invisible, for the first time in a long time.”

  I appreciate her gratitude too much to call bullshit.

  She scoots closer. “Ah, Graham.” She wraps her arms around me and kisses me on the mouth.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

  She pulls back. “Sophie is out cold. I promise she won’t hear a thing.”

  “It’s not that, It’s—”

  “Is it Jill?”

  “No, definitely not. But what are we doing here? I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “We’re celebrating,” she says, and then John Lennon is over her head and lying on the floor. Kat is in front of me in shorts and an iridescent green bra.

  Every time Victoria’s Secret catalogues arrived in the mail, my mother launched into a litany about how real love and sex is very different from love and sex in the media. Women only pose like in those magazines when they’re joking or trying too hard.

  Boy, was Mom wrong. Kat is kneeling with her hands propped on her knees, which gives her cleavage. And she’s sincere.

  Two girls coming on to me within a few weeks? Unheard of.

  I spent most of high school pining for Gretchen and going out on dates with girls who simply agreed to go out with me.

  Kat puts one arm around my shoulders. “I really like you, Graham.”

  “I like you, too.”

  She shakes her head. “No, I mean I really like you. You get me. And you’re just … open. Free. Totally honest. I love that.”

  Those words, totally honest, bounce around my brain while Kat kisses me. Kissing is one of those bicycle skills: once you learn, you don’t forget.

  Man, I love kissing. And I could use practice, so I quiet my mind and kiss back.

  Kat kisses down my neck, which feels amazing.

  “I know this isn’t a lasting thing.” Kiss. “But I want us to have this moment.” Kiss. “One of the things we’ll tuck into the pockets of our memories and pull out years from now.” Kiss. “I’m working on college and working for Sophie and working to ensure my future.” Kiss. “But I want to do this one thing right now. For me, right now.”

  I can’t really fault her for that.

  Kat untucks my shirt and moves her hand along my naked belly, her nails brushing the top of my shorts. We could both be naked in two minutes.

  No one will ever find out about this. Whatever comes of Gretchen or my first girlfriend at Tulane, this first time will be behind me. I will have the experience with someone who is clearly wild about me.

  Or wild about Graham. That trips me up. If we’re going to do this, I want to walk into it honestly. I don’t want to sully it with lies, even the tiniest ones.

  “I have to tell you something first.”

  Kat’s big brown eyes are expectant. I can’t believe I’m about to blow the whole deal. The truth can wait for the morning. Hell, the truth can wait forever!

  Kat leans away from me. “I can tell by your face that this is something big.”

  I nod.

  She’s getting a little hyper again. “Maybe it’s something we should just leave unsaid. Maybe we can just understand that we’re both feeling something big here. We can enjoy the moment and you can tell me in the morning.”

  It’s my get-out-of-jail free card. I leave in the morning and she will never know.

  But I will know.

  “Kat, I’m not going to say what you think I’m going to say. Yes, it would keep for the morning, but I want to tell you while we still have time to discuss it.”

  She sits upright and leans against the couch arm. “I’m liking the sound of this less and less. I’m not asking for a relationship. Obviously I can’t be tied down.”

  She might be as screwed up as I am. How can I put this gently? “Look, Kat, everything we’ve done together has been great. I feel—changed, because of you.”

  She covers the shiny bra with her arms. “Less and less.”

  “I’m trying to have a real conversation here.”

  “You’re killing the mood, Graham.”

  “That’s the thing.” Deep breath. “My name’s not Graham.”

  Kat’s hands and arms dance around her torso, trying to cover all her bare skin simultaneously.

  “Relax, I’m totally the guy you know. I promise. Here is the short version: almost six weeks ago, the day I was supposed to graduate, my father murdered my mother. He was looking for me when he did it. I was … terrified! So I took my fake ID—with the name Graham Bel from Wheaton, Georgia—and I took off. Two days later, I wound up in Burlington. And for a while, I hid out, panicked that my father would find me and kill me. I slept in the woods, I holed up at a hostel. I tried to get into the homeless shelter. That’s another story.

  “Eventually, Curt gave me his couch and a pseudo-job to keep me afloat. And things got better. And then I met you, and things got good. And today, my father did find me, and now he’s going to prison.

  “That’s it. I’m really going to Tulane this fall. And my name. My name is Xander Fife.”

  I haven’t said my full name for weeks.

  “So you have lied to me about everything.” Kat pulls the blanket over her bare chest.

  “No. Well, about that one thing—two—yes. I’m actually from Ohio, not Georgia. But I swear to you: everything else is true. I run a lot. I love the blues and hate football. I love soccer and sunshine and ice cream and really, really love to read. I’m dying to travel.”

  “And Jill?” Kat’s really weird about Jill.

  “Jill is my very best friend, and has been since I was four years old. She helped me through all of this.”

  Kat snugs the blanket around her torso. “I want the whole story. The long version. Absolutely no lies.”

  She cries when I get to the part about Gary and the domestic violence shelter and she cringes when I tell her about that night with Jill on my parents’ floor. I almost leave out the woods with Gretchen, but at this point I don’t want to hold back.

  I feel naked, but telling the story of my life is freeing. Everything is real again.

  “And that is everything. Scout’s honor.” I follow quickly with, “I was never a scout. And, one more truth: that day, when I opened the door to find you standing there? I thought you were smokin’ hot. I really had expected you to have green eyes like a cat, but that’s not why I stood there with my mouth open. You make quite an impression.”

  Kat grins. “They’re my favorite shorts. One day, my jeans were too short, so I cut them off at the knee, and every time they looked too shaggy, I cut off a little more.”

  “They’re working for you.”

  She laughs. “Graham—Xander—Is it Alexander? Or Zander with a ‘z’? Were your parents hipsters?”

  “It’s Alexander Fife. No middle name. Jill started calling me Xander, because Alexander was stuffy and Alex seemed square.”

  “I can get behind that.” Kat laughs, and then she’s crying hysterically.

  What have I done to this poor girl?

  “I just thought I had found something here,” she says. “A real friend, in you. And now you’re leaving, and you don’t want to be something other than friends and …”

  Her crying is almost loud enough to wake Sophie. Hugging helps calm her down.

  She still smells like patchouli.

  And she’s half naked.

  Focus.

  I am being a good friend to Kat, and good something-more to Gretchen at the same time. I stroke Kat’s back, in a friendly way.

  “I feel like I’ll never really connect with people.” She gazes at me. “Or have a real boyfriend.”

  “Of course you will! But it’s not me.”

  She sniffles. “I know. Gretchen is waiting.”

  “Maybe. But that doesn’t matter right this second. I like you, Kat, a lot. You said that you wanted to have a moment to hold onto forever. How about a friend instead?”

  She shrugs.

  “No, I’m s
erious. My time in Burlington has been bizarre and askew, and I would have gone insane without my lifeline to Jill. And then I met you, and life got immeasurably better. So, while you’re here and when you feel invisible, you’ll have me.”

  “Long distance relationships fizzle.”

  “Are you kidding? I live on the Internet! And I am not Dawn. I’m not going to disappear. And don’t discount what you have done for me here, either. You’re my friend. I want to hang on to you!”

  “I’d like that.”

  Kat scoots closer to me, gathering the blankets and pillows around her like a nest. Without a second thought, I put my arm around her. It feels genuinely friendly.

  We’re quiet. There’s nothing more to say, really. I suspect she’s lost in thoughts as deep and dark as my own. Where do we go from here? I mean, separately. Where do I go from here? Where does she?

  We’ve been sitting like this, not talking, forever.

  Kat stands and shakes off the comforter so she’s just in her tiny shorts and shiny bra. “This was 100 percent not how I thought tonight was going to work out.”

  Me neither.

  “I’m so glad we talked instead,” she says.

  “Me, too.”

  Kat shimmies into her John Lennon shirt. If I had held off for twelve freaking hours, we might be a tangled mess of nakedness on this couch.

  But then there would be lies between us. And a huge mess between me and Gretchen. Instead, Kat and I know each other. Really. She knows everything, and she doesn’t shun me. That’s pretty amazing, actually.

  “I love that John Lennon T-shirt.”

  “He’s the one who said, ‘Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.’”

  My life. I’m trying to change it, but until it changes, this is it. I’m living it.

  Kat tucks in her shirt and brushes her hair out of her face. “Sorry for dumping on you this week. I never told anyone half of that stuff. Thanks for letting me talk.”

  “I loved hearing it.” I wrap her in another warm hug.

  “I think I fell in love with you a little tonight, Xander.”

  I want to hang on to her. I want to clutch this moment with my entire being. “I think I love you, too.”

  The lovely Kat says, “I need to head home. I’m mentally exhausted. Like we just did a triathlon, you know?”