The Way I used to Be

THE NIGHT IS A
total blur. We didn’t order takeout. We didn’t watch
movies. We just sat on Mara’s bedroom floor and drank. And drank. And
drank until there was nothing left.
“Morning,” Mara mumbles as I sit up too fast.
“Oh God, my head. Not so loud,” I grumble. I can’t remember whether I
fell asleep or passed out.
She gets up from the floor, wobbly, and stands in front of the mirror
licking her hand and wiping the mascara stains from under her eyes. I follow
her out of her room and down the stairs to the kitchen like a shadow.
“Are you hungry?” she asks me, opening and closing the cupboard doors,
trying to find something edible.
“A little, I guess.”
She carries an assortment of cereal boxes to the table. I get the bowls and
spoons and skim milk from her fridge.
“So, I have an idea—a plan—if you’ll just please think about it for at least
ten seconds before you say no,” she tells me as we sit at the little breakfast
nook her father built when we were kids.
I pour my Cap’n Crunch with Crunch Berries. The clinking sounds of the
small pinkish-red spheres and the pillow-puff-shaped corn-oat amalgams
falling against the ceramic bowl echo through the empty kitchen.
“Edy?” Mara says.
“Oh, what?” I pretend I didn’t hear; I’m much too busy pouring my skim
milk.
“I said I want you to listen to this idea I have.”
The spoon dives in; I put it in my mouth. I chew. Chew, chew, chew. I
swallow. “Yeah, okay, I’m listening.”
“Good. I want you to come out with us tonight.”
I stop chewing. I stop blinking. I stop breathing. “Uff?” I mumble through
my mouthful of cereal. Swallow hard, try again. “Us?”

---

“Yeah, with me and Cameron. We’re going to the mall.” She smiles as if
that’s not the most absurd thing she’s ever said.
It takes me a few seconds to recover. “With Cameron? To the mall? You’re
kidding, right?”
“I know it’s lame, Edy, but we’re going to the movies and we would only
have to walk through a small, tiny little baby section of the mall to get there,
okay?”
“Mara, why? We’ve tried this before. Cameron and I do not like each
other. Please accept that.”
“Well, it’s not just that,” she begins slowly. “Steve’s coming too.”
I wonder how Cap’n Crunch would taste with a little splash of vodka, or
maybe half the bottle.
“So, will you come, Eeds, pleeease, pwetty, pwetty pwease?” She clasps her
hands together and gives me her best doe-eyed pouty face.
“But this is like a date, right? You’re trying to set me up on a date. At the
movies. That’s just pathetic. What is this, middle school?”
“Seriously, I think it’ll be great!” She smiles at me like she actually believes
what she’s saying.
“Okay, Mara. Look, we no longer party like we used to, or hang out with
guys who are trouble. In fact, I barely even get to see you anymore. I’ve done a
lot to accommodate you and little Cameron-two-shoes, including putting up
with Steve constantly hanging around. So please, please, please, I beg you—
not the mall.”
Her smile fades, her face crinkling with frustration. “He’s cool and nice
and sweet, okay? And cute, so stop being all judge-y.”
“Oh my God.” I sigh.
“He is,” she whines. “And he’s perfect for you.”
“I don’t know why we’re still talking about this—I told you already—not
interested.”
“Why?” she asks, pretending to be surprised.
“Because, Mara, I’m not going to fucking double-date with you and
fucking Cameron, okay?” Too harsh, my tone, I know. I can’t help it though.

---

“Well, excuse me—God, Edy, you can be so mean sometimes! You know, I
already promised Steve you would come. And besides, you owe me.”
“How do I owe you?”
“Please, I’ve covered for you more times than I can even count—probably
more times than you even know!”
I stand up with my cereal bowl in hand; I walk over to the sink and dump
the excess milk down the drain. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks a lot, Edy. Way to be there for me. I never ask you for anything!”
She crosses her arms and jerks herself back in her chair, pouting like she’s a
twelve-year-old.
I stand there, trying to calculate how serious she is, how mad she would be
if I bail. “Oh God,” I moan. “Look, I’ll go with you, but please just make it
very clear this is not a date.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine.”
“I have to go.”
“Wait, don’t go,” she says, standing up like she might actually try to stop
me.
“No, I told Vanessa I’d help her do something.” But that’s a lie. I scrape my
soggy cereal into the garbage can under the sink. “Just call me later and let me
know what time I should meet you.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“I’m sorry.” I relent, realizing how nasty I’m being. “I’m not mad. I’m just
hungover, you know, I need a cigarette, my head hurts.”
I don’t bother getting dressed, or brushing my hair or even my teeth. I just
grab my backpack and jacket and I’m out the door as quickly as possible.
Mara’s house is the one place in the world I’ve never been in a hurry to leave.
But things change all the time. As I take steps farther away from her, the
sidewalk seems a little unstable under my feet. I cut through two backyards
and have to outrun a rabid terrier just to avoid walking past Kevin’s house—
Amanda’s house.

---

I stand outside the food court, sure to be early—a peace offering for Mara—
proof that I’m not above going to the mall if it truly means that much to her. I
sit on the edge of a big concrete planter near the drop-off area and light a
cigarette. I notice my hand shaking as I bring it to my lips. I feel on edge.
Nervous. I’m dreading this entire night. It’s just too wholesome and
purposeless. I switch my cigarette to my other hand, but this one shakes so
frantically, it slips right through my fingers. I have to jump to my feet so it
doesn’t fall into my lap and burn me.
Just as I’m brushing the ashes from my coat sleeve, Mara’s voice startles
me: “You all right, there?”
“Oh!” I gasp. “Hey. Yeah, I just dropped my—whatever, never mind—hi.”
“Hey.” Cameron raises the hand that’s conjoined with Mara’s, black nail
polish peeling from his fingernails. “Glad you could come with,” he lies. The
streetlight glints off a metal ball inside his mouth as he talks, off the rings
curled around his bottom lip and left eyebrow. “Steve’s parking.”
As we stand there waiting, Mara grimaces through a smile, as if to tell me
to play nice. Then I see Steve power walking through the parking lot in his
sweater-vest—his wallet chain all shiny, dangling from his back pocket, his
Converse sneakers too clean. Like he’s dressed for a date. He hasn’t even
arrived and already he’s trying too hard. “Hi, Eden!” He waves as he
approaches us, smiling so hugely.
“Hey.” I try not to sigh too loudly.
During the movie Mara and Cameron hold hands. She leans her head on
his shoulder. He kisses her forehead, then gives me an awkward smile when
he catches me staring. I turn to look at Steve next to me. He smiles shyly and
focuses intently on the movie screen. There are few things in this world that
will make you feel like more of a loser than this.
The movie’s in French, with subtitles. I guess Mara forgot to mention that