Page 67 of The Way I Used to Be

—E

THE NIGHT IS Atotal 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.”