The Girl She Was

by Rebecca Freeborn

  ‘Oh good. Good.’ The words rushed out of her.

  An elderly woman approached the counter with her prescription held out in front of her, and the girl looked as if she might jump out of her skin. Her haunted eyes found Layla’s at last, and Layla beckoned her down the other end of the counter. Christine’s bright conversation with the older woman almost drowned out the girl’s timid voice as she spoke again.

  ‘I’ll get that one, then, please.’

  ‘Of course,’ Layla said. ‘Wait here, I’ll get it for you.’

  Layla escaped behind the wall of medication, her hands shaking as she found what she needed. She’d dispensed the morning-after pill hundreds of times before, but there was something about this girl that reminded her so much of herself once upon a time. It was like looking at a ghost. She gave herself a little shake and returned to her customer.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked as she scanned the box and slipped it straight into a paper bag. The girl started nervously, and Layla rushed to reassure her. ‘It’s not required. I’d just like to call you by your name.’

  Her chin quivered. She couldn’t take her eyes off the package. ‘Amber.’

  ‘OK, Amber, when did the intercourse occur?’

  ‘It was last night.’ Her eyes widened. ‘It’s not too late, is it? My parents … I couldn’t get here any earlier.’

  ‘The pill is usually effective for at least three days after intercourse, so it should be fine.’

  Amber’s voice wobbled. ‘Will it make me feel sick?’

  ‘You may experience some nausea or cramping, as well as breast soreness, headaches or dizziness, but it shouldn’t last long. I do recommend that you see your GP in a couple of weeks to make sure there’s no pregnancy and to discuss regular contraception and screening for possible STIs.’

  ‘I can’t!’ She looked appalled at the suggestion. ‘My parents go to that doctor.’

  Layla smiled gently. ‘Your doctor is bound by confidentiality. They won’t be able to reveal anything to your parents.’

  ‘I know, but …’ Amber’s eyes slid away from Layla’s. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t need regular contraception. It was a … one-off situation.’

  There was something about the girl’s body language that set off alarm bells in Layla. ‘Did you consent to the sex?’

  ‘I … yes. Yes, I did, it just … It was my first time. It wasn’t what I was expecting, that’s all.’

  Layla didn’t usually touch her customers – she didn’t usually touch anyone outside of her family – but now she reached out and took Amber’s hand. ‘First experiences can be disappointing and confusing. It’s OK to feel strange or sad about it, but if there was any question of coercion or force, you can get help. And you can always withdraw consent, no matter how far it’s gone.’

  Amber nodded, biting her lip. ‘I know. I’m OK, really.’

  Layla tried unsuccessfully to catch her gaze. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yep.’ Her tone was stronger now that she was so close to escaping. ‘How much is it?’

  Layla watched Amber’s face as she rang up the bill and took her money. She’d done all she could to help, but she still felt a strange tug – something close to grief – as the girl left the store, head down, and she wasn’t sure whether it was for Amber or for the teenager she’d once been.

  *

  Layla worked late and Cam had picked up the kids. He was at the stove making dinner when she got home, his back to her. He didn’t turn around as she threw her handbag on the bench and greeted Louis and Ella. ‘Good day?’ he said absently.

  It seemed like he was getting further away from her every day, and she didn’t know what to do to bring him back. ‘Actually, it wasn’t great.’

  Now he turned to look at her. ‘What happened?’

  Layla tried to smile, but her mouth tugged sideways. She told Cam about the teenager who’d come in, and the feeling she’d had that the sex wasn’t consensual. ‘I can’t stop thinking about her,’ she finished.

  Cam turned off the stove and faced her. ‘What did you say to her?’

  ‘I told her she could get help if she needed it, but she brushed me off. I keep wondering if I should’ve pressed her further, encouraged her to go to the police.’

  ‘You did all you could,’ Cam said. ‘It’s not your job to be her counsellor.’

  Indignation flared in Layla. ‘It’s not about doing my job, it’s about being human! What’s wrong with caring about what happened to someone?’

  Cam’s face began to harden again, but then tears sprang to Layla’s eyes, and he moved towards her and put his hands on her waist. ‘You’re right. Sorry.’

  Layla looked up at him, eyes wide. ‘What if she was raped and all I did was pussyfoot around the issue?’

  ‘Hey, it’s OK.’ Cam took her into his arms. ‘She might’ve been telling the truth, and even if she wasn’t, you can’t drag it out of her.’

  She hugged him around the middle, fighting the sobs that were rising in her chest. ‘There was something about her that reminded me of myself when I was that age,’ she said into his chest. ‘I was too young to deal with that.’

  Cam stepped back abruptly. ‘Deal with what? What do you mean?’

  Layla shook her head frantically. ‘She. I meant she.’

  But Cam’s brows were still knitted together. He wasn’t going to let it go this time. ‘Layla, did something happen to you when you were a teenager?’

  For a second – just a second – she entertained the idea of telling him everything. It’d be a relief to get it out in the open. But she couldn’t tell him that part without telling him about the affair, and after what his mother had told her, she couldn’t bear to think of his disappointment when he realised what she was really like.

  ‘No! I’m just tired and feeling weird about that girl. Ignore me.’

  ‘Is this something to do with the reunion thing? You’ve been acting strangely ever since I got that message.’

  Layla withdrew from him and turned to face the bench. ‘I’m not even going to the reunion. It’s stupid. Glasswater Bay is the last place I want to go.’ She willed him not to push her on it.

  ‘Layla, please. Tell me what’s wrong.’

  She whirled around to face him. ‘Can you get off my back? I said there’s nothing wrong.’

  He stepped away from her, shaking his head bitterly. ‘I know there’s something going on here. I don’t understand why you won’t tell me. I’m your husband.’

  Layla was on the verge of lashing out at him when she noticed the children’s stares. ‘You’re my husband, but you don’t own me, Cam,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘And I’m fine.’

  He glanced once at the children, then turned away. ‘No, you’re not,’ he muttered as he left the room.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mummy?’ Louis was staring at her.

  ‘Nothing, sweetie,’ she said brightly, swallowing hard to push down the fear that kept climbing and climbing inside her.

  THEN

  Scott talked about taking me away for a weekend, and I became enthralled with the idea. Hiring a shack up the coast; walking hand in hand along the beach, watching the sun go down over the water, having all that time together to talk, to plan our future rather than just tearing each other’s clothes off. Maybe I’d even cook for him, show him I was capable of satisfying him in more places than just the bedroom.

  But after a while, he went quiet on the topic. I was disappointed, but I couldn’t ask too much of him. He was already risking so much. For now, I was content with what we had, even if our encounters seemed to be getting shorter, more abrupt. He said Jodie was getting suspicious, so he needed to get straight home afterwards. But he wouldn’t – couldn’t – forgo our time together completely. I had too much power over him for that. It was intoxicating, seeing how I could transform him, the way his eyes darkened from the things I did with my body. Sometimes all I’d have to do is give him a certain kind of look from acros
s the cafe and he’d be an animal when we were alone at the end of the night. Sometimes he was a little rough, but it was only because I turned him on so much. Later, I’d treasure the marks he left on me, the occasional bruises on my shoulders or grazes on my knees, as brands of his desire for me.

  But I could never fully banish my paranoia: if Jodie really was getting suspicious, why was he racing home to reassure her instead of ripping off the bandaid and telling her it was over? Since we’d started sleeping together, he hadn’t told me he loved me with quite the same regularity, and I worried he was already becoming bored with me. Was I too vanilla, not adventurous enough? Maybe if I gave him more, he’d see that I was deserving of him.

  But no matter what I did, he became increasingly distant. One night in the kitchen, he seemed more distracted than usual. For once, he didn’t get straight up from the swag and start pulling on his clothes, but lay beside me for a long time. He barely seemed to hear my words when I tried to make conversation. After a period of silence, I snuggled into him and rested my head on his chest, but he rolled away from me and sat up. Dismay welled inside me. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

  He gave a heavy sigh and got to his feet, then sat down in the chair against the wall, head in his hands. ‘I don’t know about this, Layla. I just don’t know anymore.’

  No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He raised his head and gestured wildly. ‘What do you think I mean? I’m sleeping with a fucking teenager! The guilt is killing me.’

  I was suddenly aware of how immature I must look, curled up naked on the swag. My inadequate breasts; the burgeoning pimple on the side of my nose; my childish plait hanging over my shoulder. Of course I could never be enough for him. ‘Are you saying you want to end it?’

  He looked away. ‘I don’t know. Well, I know what I should do, but I don’t have the guts for it.’

  Desperation clawed at me. He hadn’t specified exactly what he should do, but from the way he avoided my eyes, I had a feeling I knew the answer. I had to do something. I went to him and sat on his lap, my legs straddling his, and took his face in my hands.

  ‘I love you, Scott,’ I whispered. ‘I can’t let you go. I’ll do anything.’

  His arms tightened around me and I kissed him, watching his eyes as they sank closed. I moved his hands up to my breasts, and as he grew hard again beneath me, I lowered myself slowly onto him and moved forward so he was deep inside me. We’d never tried this position before, and it felt incredible. I had complete control over the intensity and the pace, and almost at once I felt a swelling inside me, a balloon of anticipation that expanded and expanded until I thought I would explode.

  Then Scott began lifting me off him as if to change position, and the feeling started to dissipate.

  ‘No!’ I cried. ‘Stay there. That feels so good.’ I rocked harder and it came back, a fizzing warmth like there was a fountain bubbling inside me.

  ‘Layla, stop! I’m going to come!’

  But I couldn’t stop, not when it felt like this. I bent my head to kiss him again, digging my fingernails in his back. There was no way I was going to interrupt this feeling, not when I had waited for it for so long. I straightened and arched my back, crying out as I came in a shower of glittering fireworks. My body shuddered and I slumped over him. ‘Oh my god!’ I gasped.

  But he wasn’t embracing me. His whole body was stiff and unyielding. ‘Fucking hell, Layla.’

  His words sliced apart my warm glow of satisfaction, and I sat back to look into his blazing eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘This is what’s wrong, you stupid girl.’ He lifted me off him and warm wetness trickled down my leg. I stared down at it, numb. ‘I told you I was going to come, but you didn’t listen. The last thing I need to deal with now is a fucking accidental pregnancy.’

  The humiliation was thick, viscous. ‘I’m sorry. But it felt so good. I couldn’t stop.’

  He threw me a dark look. ‘You could try thinking about someone other than yourself.’

  This stung. So far, everything we’d done had been geared towards his pleasure. Not to mention he’d practically said the same words to me after the first time we’d slept together. ‘It wouldn’t be a problem if we’d been using condoms,’ I shot back.

  ‘I’m a man, Layla, not some pimply teenager.’

  I shrank beneath the sharpness of his words, imagining he was studying the pimple on my nose, thinking about how immature I was, and what a mistake he’d made getting involved with me.

  ‘You’ll have to get the morning-after pill tomorrow to make sure you don’t get pregnant,’ he said.

  I gave him a horrified look. ‘Where am I going to get it from? I can’t go anywhere around here.’ I’d done work experience at Glasswater Bay Pharmacy last year, and the resident pharmacist, Marjorie, had become a sort of mentor to me ever since. The idea of going to her with such a request was mortifying.

  Scott gave a mocking laugh. ‘You think no one in this town has ever gone to the chemist with something embarrassing? Have you ever heard Marjorie telling everyone in the pub about Pete’s haemorrhoids or Mavis’s bunions?’

  My face went hot. ‘Of course. You’re right. I’ll organise it.’ But he still wasn’t looking at me, and I needed him to look at me, to fill the void that kept getting bigger every day no matter how many times I told myself everything was going to be OK. ‘Sorry, Scott. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.’

  His eyes softened a little. ‘You need to let me have control, Layla. It’s too dangerous otherwise. You’re so sexy that I can’t help myself. Come here.’

  He held out his arms and I moved into them with relief.

  ‘It was so awesome to watch you come like that. You’re an incredible woman, Layla.’

  I buried my head in his chest. We were going to be OK. I squeezed him tight, tighter, as if I could absorb him into me so he could never leave.

  *

  Tilling Pharmacy was still closed when I pulled into the car park at 8.30 the next morning. I’d told Mum and Dad I needed to get to school early to finish off a group project, then I’d gone to the GP to get a prescription on my way to Tilling. I’d be late for school, but better that than waiting until afterwards.

  After I’d left Scott last night, the reality of the situation had begun to press in on me. It was as if the theoretical embryo was already forming inside me, and the idea filled me with a creeping horror. Scott was right. It would be a disaster if I got pregnant.

  Tilling was in the centre of Fleurieu Peninsula, halfway between Glasswater Bay and Victor Harbor, so I was unlikely to run into anyone I knew. There was a closed sign on the door of the pharmacy, but when I pressed my face up to the glass, I saw the staff moving around inside, setting up for the day. One of them, a middle-aged woman, kept glancing at me, but made no move to let me in, even though the store should’ve opened five minutes ago. Finally, she shuffled over, heaving an aluminium sign under one arm. She took her time unlocking the door.

  ‘You’re keen,’ she said.

  I held the door open for her so she could carry the sign out onto the pavement. ‘I needed to get here before school.’

  She eyed my school uniform. ‘Couldn’t go to the chemist in Glasswater Bay, then?’ I didn’t answer, and she followed me over to the dispensing counter. ‘How can I help you?’

  I held out the prescription to her and she was silent for a moment as she studied it.

  ‘Ah.’ She didn’t move, as if waiting for me to give her an explanation. The longer the silence stretched out, the more pressure I felt to justify myself, but I remained stubbornly mute. ‘Just a minute,’ she said at last.

  I waited, pretending to browse the shelves for several minutes before an elderly man in a white coat came out from behind the counter. ‘You’re the girl wanting the morning-after pill?’ As if there were any other girls here. His voice dripped with disapproval.

  ‘Yes, please.’
<
br />   His pale eyes studied me. ‘Do your parents know your situation?’

  Anger simmered within me, but instead of sounding strong, my voice came out high-pitched and wavering. ‘Can I have the pill, please?’

  ‘I need you to answer a few questions for me first. Was this your first sexual experience?’

  My face went hot. ‘No.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Seventeen.’ My voice became smaller with every answer.

  ‘Hmm.’ He tapped the box against his empty hand. ‘How long have you been sexually active?’

  I was so humiliated I couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Couple of months.’

  ‘And do you understand how to prevent a pregnancy?’ His tone was cool, emotionless. No, not quite emotionless: judgemental. ‘How many sexual partners have you had?’

  ‘Please, can I just have the pill?’ My voice was shaking so much now I could hardly get the words out. ‘I need to get to school.’

  He held the box out to me, but he didn’t let go when my hand closed around it. ‘Take it from me: none of these boys will think much of you once you’ve done the rounds. Try to keep yourself nice while you still can, hmm?’

  I yanked the box out of his hand and returned to the counter. Tears of fury burned behind my eyes as I threw a note at the woman. She watched me, expressionless, as she took my money and handed me the change.

  It was raining when I marched out of the store; the kind of stinging, sideways rain that felt personal. I ran to my car, the sobs already tearing from my body. I opened the box and popped the pill out of the blister pack. Fuck that guy. Fuck them both, with their judgement and their holier-than-thou opinions, treating me like a slut because I’d made one mistake. Blaming me, even though two of us had been involved. For the first time, I hated my body for what it could do, for putting me in this position. And I didn’t need any more reasons to hate it.

  I threw the pill into my mouth and tried to swallow it, but it stuck in my tear-clogged throat, so I got my drink bottle out of my bag and gulped down some water until it dislodged.