The Girl She Was

by Rebecca Freeborn

  ‘Really? You didn’t discuss it together before you got out of bed this morning?’ I hated the petulance in my voice, but it had taken over and I couldn’t control it.

  ‘Layla,’ he said evenly.

  ‘I know, grow up, Layla, you’re being childish, Layla,’ I parroted.

  ‘I’m sorry; I know it was weird. Let me make it up to you tonight.’

  I put down my pastie on the table. ‘I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s not right.’

  He smirked. ‘Didn’t see you complaining when I had two fingers inside you this morning.’

  ‘Is this a joke to you?’ I stared at him, astounded at and hurt by his flippancy. ‘This is wrong, Scott. We’re doing the wrong thing.’

  ‘I know.’ His voice was gentler now. ‘But I can’t help how I feel about you, Layla. I lie awake every night thinking about you.’

  I wanted to believe him, wanted everything to be different. His gaze was steady, his blue eyes soft. He looked stripped back, as if he’d revealed his true self to me and was waiting to see whether I’d accept or discard him. He reached across the table and closed his hand over mine.

  ‘But it’s OK if you don’t feel the same way.’ He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, then stood up. ‘I’ll leave you to finish your lunch.’

  He turned and walked away. I watched him go, the ache in my chest getting bigger and bigger until I was sure it would swallow me whole.

  NOW

  There were no new messages from Jodie, and Layla convinced herself that she’d changed her mind and let her off the hook. Ella’s health scare combined with the spectre of seeing Jodie again had made Layla more appreciative of how fortunate she really was. She hugged her children more often, kissed her husband more, and started thinking about planning a family holiday for later in the year.

  Then one evening, when she was cooking dinner for the kids, she opened Facebook to discover that Renee had tagged her in a post.

  Curious, she followed the notification. A moment later, the wooden spoon she was holding clattered to the floor as a photo filled her screen. It was from the hotel restaurant where they’d had dinner before the school formal. Six or seven of her classmates sat on one side of a long table, but she only had eyes for Renee, Shona and herself. Their heads were close, arms around each other, eyes bright with the excitement of the evening. Tears spilled onto Layla’s cheeks. After the way that night had ended, she had never got any of the photos, so this was the first one she’d seen in twenty years.

  They were beautiful. Even her. And so, so young. Too young to be playing grown-up games with someone else’s husband.

  She zoomed in on the photo so the three of them filled the screen. It was a photo of a photo so the quality wasn’t great, the glossiness enhanced by the light that had fallen onto it while whoever it was had taken this picture. She studied their vivid smiles, their bright lipstick, could almost feel the softness of Renee’s hair trailing over her arm as she rested her head on Layla’s shoulder.

  ‘Mummy, why are you crying?’ Louis tugged at her hand, his big blue eyes searching her face.

  Layla swiped the tears away from her cheeks. ‘Oh, I’m not really crying, sweet. Just remembering some old friends. Want to see a photo of me when I was young?’

  Louis nodded vigorously, and Layla crouched beside him and held out the phone. He studied it in silence. ‘Your hair looks cool.’

  Layla laughed and kissed the top of his head.

  He wrinkled his nose. ‘What’s that funny smell?’

  ‘Oh crap!’ She leapt up and inspected the chicken strips she’d been frying. They were blackened on one side and the burnt smell was already filling the room. She switched off the gas and regarded the ruins of the meal. Now she’d have to make something else, and it was already six thirty.

  ‘Crap!’ Louis cried with glee.

  ‘CRAP!’ Ella bellowed from the couch.

  Once she’d cleaned up the mess and got a pot of water on to make pasta, Layla went back to look at the photo again. At first, she’d assumed Renee herself had posted it, but now she saw that the post was from someone else: a classmate who had probably married, changed her last name and become a stranger to Layla.

  Was going through some old photos today and found this one from the formal dinner. Good times!

  She scrolled down to look at the comments. They were mostly tags of the other people in the photo, including Renee and Shona, along with a few exclamations of wonder and commentary on how old fashioned their dresses looked now. Then there was another comment from the original poster:

  Anyone still know Layla Flynn? I’m not friends with her on FB so can’t tag her.

  By some miracle, no one had commented on the disgrace she’d made of herself later that night, but down near the bottom, Renee had tagged her: Layla Flynn. Just the two words of her name, no direct engagement. Not that she could blame her, considering how Layla’s actions had destroyed their friendship that night. As she liked the comment with a trembling finger, she noticed another comment from Shona:

  OMG, we were BABIES!!

  Layla clutched the phone. Shona had been in London for fifteen years: it was unlikely she’d come back to Australia now. But Renee was still here, and somehow it felt like she’d been handed another chance to revive their friendship. She opened Messenger and started typing out a message to Renee before she had a chance to change her mind.

  Hi, Renee. Thanks for tagging me in that photo – it brought back a lot of memories … some bad ones, but some pretty good ones too. I’ve been thinking about you a bit lately – I think maybe I saw you at the Magic Dirt gig on New Year’s Eve? Anyway, I was wondering if you’d be interested in catching up sometime … Maybe we could have lunch the next time you’re in Adelaide? I know it’s been a long time, but it’d be great to see you again. Love, Layla xx

  She paused for a moment, then went back and changed ‘love’ to ‘cheers’. Then, right before she sent it, she changed it back again.

  Renee saw the message a few minutes later, and Layla waited, feverish, holding her phone in one hand while she dropped pasta into the boiling water with the other.

  But there was still no reply when she served up the steaming pasta to the kids. There was still nothing when Cam got home, when Louis and Ella were splashing around in the bath, when Cam was reading to them in bed, when she had finished stacking the dishwasher and turned it on.

  And when she went to bed later that night, Renee still hadn’t replied.

  THEN

  I only got two shifts the following week, and both times Scott sent me home early. He barely made eye contact with me. We were never alone together.

  I missed him. School days were dull without the anticipation of seeing him after the bell rang, and when I did see him, he always seemed to be on the opposite side of the cafe. I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake by ending things.

  Renee and Shona were pleased that I’d broken it off. They begged me to let them set me up with one of the boys at school. But when Rasheed, after a month of silence, finally approached me to ask me out, the comparison between my first fumbling encounter with him and Scott’s assured, experienced hands was too great.

  ‘If I can’t be with Scott, I don’t want to be with anyone,’ I said to Renee.

  ‘We just want you to be happy because we love you,’ Renee said.

  ‘Well, you guys are single,’ I said glumly. ‘Let’s be single and miserable together.’

  And so I let Rasheed down gently and went off to work on Friday after school. I was on until close and had hoped to snatch some time alone with Scott, but he said he’d finish up and sent Yumi and me home at the same time.

  Yumi glanced at me when we reached the footpath outside. ‘You OK, Layla? You seem a bit down lately.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ I tried to look reassuring. ‘Just stressed about school. You know how it is.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, uni is way easier. Hang in there, girlfriend. It doesn’t l
ast forever.’

  She got into her car and tooted her horn as she drove away, and I continued up the footpath to my car. It was parked away from the streetlights and as I got closer, I noticed a shadowy figure leaning against it. My heart contracted as I recognised him. He was alone; there was no sign of his dickhead mates who usually flanked him. And he’d already seen me, so it was too late to turn around. His mouth spread wide in a grin.

  ‘Laaaylaaa,’ he sang softly as I approached.

  ‘Piss off, Matty,’ I said.

  ‘Well, that’s not very friendly, is it?’

  I clenched my teeth. ‘I’m not in the mood. Get off my car. I’ve had a shitty week and I want to go home.’

  He pushed off from my car and stepped towards me. ‘I think I know a way to take your mind off your shitty week, darlin’.’

  Panic leapt in my throat. I turned to run, but he’d already reached me. He grabbed my arm and yanked me back, wrapping his arm around my middle like a vice. The other hand fondled my breast roughly. A deep, primal fear gripped me and I drove my elbow back into his ribs. The air escaped his lungs with a sour puff of stale beer. His arm loosened for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for me to twist around and bring my knee up into his groin.

  ‘You fucken little bitch!’ he yelled, but I’d already broken away from him and was sprinting back towards the cafe.

  It was dark inside and the front door was locked. I fumbled in my bag for my key, but my hands were shaking too much, so I gave up and banged on the glass with both fists. If I was too late, if Scott had already left …

  Then his head was silhouetted against the light from the kitchen, and he rushed over and unlocked the door. I flew in with a sob.

  ‘Layla, what happened?’ There was a furrow between his eyes as he gazed over my head onto the street.

  ‘Matty! He was waiting at my car!’ I got out between gasps.

  Scott stepped past me and ran up the footpath a short way, then turned and went the other way. I waited behind the door, still trembling.

  ‘No sign of him,’ he said when he came back. ‘He must’ve taken off. Did he hurt you?’

  I shook my head. ‘He groped me, but I kneed him in the nuts.’

  Scott chuckled. ‘You little ripper!’

  I tried to laugh, but a sob came out instead. Scott pulled me into his arms, drawing my head against his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his middle. He held me so tightly I could hardly breathe, but I clung to him until my shaking had subsided. It was only when he released me that I realised we were still standing in the front of the cafe for passersby to see, if they looked closely enough. Without a word, I followed him into the kitchen.

  ‘Do you want me to take you to the police station?’ Scott asked.

  I shook my head. ‘No, I think I should just go home.’

  The frown was still there between his eyes. ‘We can’t let that fucker get away with this.’

  ‘There were no witnesses. He’ll say I’m making it up.’

  ‘I’ll tell them I saw it from the cafe and he ran off when I came out to help you.’

  ‘Matty’s brother’s a cop. They’ll protect him.’

  Scott’s jaw worked. ‘I hate to say it, but you’re probably right.’

  The depth of my helplessness weighed on me, and I collapsed into a chair. ‘I hate this town.’

  Scott knelt on the floor in front of me and pushed the hair back from my face. ‘It’s not all bad, is it?’

  I moved my hand up to his and clasped it. ‘Not all of it.’

  We stared at each other for a long moment. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said.

  ‘Me too.’

  Scott gave my hand a squeeze. ‘I love you, Layla. I’ve tried to fight it, but it just keeps getting stronger.’

  Elation blossomed inside me, but I pushed it down under the misery of our hopeless situation. ‘What are we going to do?’

  Scott put a hand on my cheek. ‘I want to be with you, but the time’s not right for us yet. I’ll understand if this is too much for you to deal with … if you want to stop.’

  ‘I don’t want to stop.’ I rested my forehead against his. ‘I never want to stop.’

  NOW

  Louis wriggled away from Layla as she tried to wrestle him into a pair of shorts. Giggling, he started running away, the shorts still tangled around his ankles, and in a shock twist that Layla could never have seen coming, he tripped over and fell face first onto the floor. He looked up at her for a second of horrified silence, then gave a long, high-pitched cry. Layla gathered him into her arms.

  ‘I need a bandaid!’ he wailed, pointing to his arm.

  Layla made a show of checking him over. ‘No blood.

  I don’t think we’re going to have to amputate.’

  Louis pushed her hands away, his face already contorting, signalling the start of a lengthy tantrum. ‘I NEED A BANDAID!’

  ‘You don’t need a bandaid, Louis; it won’t do anything.’ Sometimes Layla wondered why she didn’t just give him the bandaid, but she had a stubborn streak and she was buggered if she was going to let a four-year-old get the better of her.

  Louis roared at her, his words almost unintelligible now, and Layla released him and stepped away. She’d learnt long ago that when he was like this, it was too late to bring him back with cuddles and calm reasoning. They just had to ride it out until the meltdown was over.

  ‘Silly Louis,’ Ella said helpfully.

  ‘No!’ Louis screamed, whirling around and shoving his sister. Ella fell onto her bottom and started crying too. She clambered to her feet, ran over to Layla and threw herself into her arms. Layla hugged her tight.

  Louis had been such a lovely toddler, always wanting to be close to her, even when she was desperate for space. But as soon as he’d turned three, he’d transformed into this emotional, angry child who had tantrums at the drop of a hat. She’d assumed he’d grow out of it quickly, but he was four and a half now and there were no signs of the behaviour going away. In the endless cycle of positivity and gloom, Layla frequently wondered whether he had ADHD, or ASD, or one of the other alphabet combinations, but then he’d be funny and cute and sweet and she’d decide she was overreacting, trying to diagnose her perfectly normal child as an excuse for her own poor parenting. Maybe his behaviour was a reaction to her own anxiety – or worse – maybe he’d inherited the emotional weakness that hid inside her.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. She’d been trying to get them ready to leave the house for an hour, and somehow hadn’t made any progress. At times like these, she longed for professional, efficient Layla, the one who only seemed to be present at work these days. That Layla would have had them dressed and out of the door with military precision, but this version of her was powerless against the might of her tiny tyrant children.

  She was dressing Ella, Louis still wailing in the background, when she heard the distinctive ping of Messenger. Anxiety clamped her belly. She hadn’t heard from Jodie again, but the dread continued to lurk beneath the surface.

  But when she dared to look at her phone, she felt a little glimmer of excitement at the sight of Renee’s name. After she’d sent that message a few days ago, she’d assumed her old friend had no interest in contacting her. She’d been disappointed, but she’d understood. There were some wrongs that could never be righted. She opened the new message.

  Hey, Layla, sorry I didn’t get back to you the other day, have been flat out. Yeah, we thought we saw you at Magic Dirt, but then you disappeared. How good was that gig? I think I’m still a little bit in love with Adalita. I’d like to see you again. I know you’d probably rather gouge out your own eyes than come back here, but our twenty-year school reunion is in a couple of weeks. I’ve attached the invite here. Shona’s back from London for a few weeks and she’s coming too. You could stay with me if you wanted? Cheers, Renee.

  Layla opened the image in the message. The invitation had a black background with fireworks and streamers. Y2
K didn’t finish the world, but we finished school!! proclaimed the invitation in pink-and-yellow Comic Sans. Let’s get together again to reminiss about the old times and catch up on what we’ve all been up too since we graduated!

  ‘Can’t even bloody spell,’ Layla muttered.

  But her breathing had become tight, strained. She’d been so careful to shut out the memories of the way school had ended, but now her old town seemed to be stalking her, all the negative experiences converging on her at once, cornering her. She couldn’t go back. Especially not now.

  Louis’s screaming had subsided to a high-pitched keening. Layla could withstand the screaming and the roaring, but this persistent whine was a crowbar edging into her brain, levering it open and spilling out all her accomplishments, leaving only the raw edges of her imperfect motherhood. Her sanity stretched taut.

  ‘Louis, will you cut it out!’ she yelled.

  Her son looked up at her in shocked silence, then his face crumpled and he started wailing again.

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’ Layla said under her breath.

  ‘Fucksake!’ said Ella immediately.

  Layla led Louis over to the couch and sat down, pulling him into her lap and holding him until his sobs became hitching breaths. Once again, she’d fucked up, made things worse instead of comforting him like a real mother – a good mother – would. Why was she so bad at this? Why did everyone else seem to be able to bring up their kids without losing themselves, without this constant self-doubt? And it only seemed to be getting worse lately. Her children didn’t deserve to pay for her mistakes. She hugged her son tighter and murmured into his hair.

  *

  Later, when the kids were sitting on the floor, clicking Lego together with only the occasional mild squabble, Layla opened the invitation to the school reunion again. It was still ridiculous. But suddenly, she longed for the days when having a family was only theoretical, before she and Cam had created this life that was simultaneously more and less than she’d hoped for; she yearned for the fierce, joyful, complicated friendships of her adolescence.