Page 64 of The Way I Used to Be
“No. No, not really. I mean, not entirely, anyway.” But as the thought sinks in deeper, a slow smile forms across her face. “This is good, isn’t it?” she asks.
“Well, considering you’ve been in love with him for the past three years, and now he’s finally here—yeah, I would say this is good.” I laugh.
“He’s finally here,” she repeats in awe.
I never would’ve thought I’d be spending a Friday night at Cameron’s house—in Cameron’s family room—with Cameron’s mother and father and shih tzu roaming in and out, bringing us snacks and drinks. I never would’ve thought Cameron, with his piercings and hidden tattoos that Mara swears are there, his punk-goth style, and his infamous blue hair, was the product of aBrady Bunchhousehold.
We sit cross-legged on top of these giant pillows his mother insisted upon, Cameron and I opposite each other across a big round, shiny wooden coffee table. Mara excuses herself to go to the bathroom, probably to reapply her lip gloss for the hundredth time. I look around—everything decorated in the most traditional way imaginable. A painting of a boat sailing peacefully under a bridge hangs above the couch, delicate neutral colors adorn every surface, a vase of soft yellow tulips sits perfectly centered on top of a tiny table that could serve no other purpose than to hold a vase full of soft yellow tulips.
“What’s her name?” I ask Cameron as his little dog nuzzles her face into my hand.
“Jenny.”
“Why Jenny?” I raise my eyebrows at him, amused he would choose such a sensible name, and for such a sensible dog—but mostly just amused at his super-sensible life.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I guess because when I was eight—that’s when we got her—I had a crush on a girl named Jenny. It was the best name I could think of.” He shrugs.
“And now you have a crush on a girl named Mara?”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” he says quietly. “Look, pretend I’m someone else for second, okay?” he whispers, leaning over the coffee table toward me, keeping one eye on the door. “You’re her best friend. What do you think my odds are? I mean, this Alex guy—he sounds like a total loser.”
“I don’t know what your odds are,” I lie. “Mara’s a pretty special person—you know that, right?”
The doorbell rings. His mother yells, “I’ll get it,” from the next room.
“Yeah, of course I know that,” he whispers.
“Good. Well, then, I’d say you have a shot. I mean, she’s here, isn’t she?”
“Okay. Thanks, Edy,” he tells me, very seriously.
Just then a guy appears in the doorway.
“Steve’s here,” Cameron’s mother calls.
Cameron instantly breaks eye contact with me as he hops up from the floor. “Hey, man!” He does that guy-handshake thing where he holds his hand out, but just cups his fingers enough to slightly grasp Steve’s hand, moving in to hug him briefly with his other arm. “Come in, sit down, get comfortable.” Then to me, “Edy, you know Steve.”
“Eden,” I correct. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Steve says slowly, staring at me. “Wow, I—I didn’t know you’d be here,” he says, looking from me to Cameron.
“Yeah, I texted you,” Cameron tells him. “Mara’s here too. She just went to the bathroom.”
Steve sits down on the floor between me and Cameron—the only free spot left. “I guess I didn’t see your text,” he says under his breath.
I look at Cameron. Then back to Steve. Something’s going on. Steve is clearly not happy I’m here. I look at him closely. He almost doesn’t even look familiar anymore. He’s changed so much, I almost question if he really is Stephen Reinheiser, aka Fat Kid. I look at him again. No, not fat, not gawky, not awkward. Not Stephen. Maybe some alternate universe Stephen. Steve Stephen. He doesn’t look anything like that kid who always took my side in book club arguments. Not the same shy, dorky, four-eyed kid who once sat at my kitchen table with me, trashing Columbus. He could almost be sort of cute now. He’s gotten taller. Not thin, but a good solid, medium build. He’s actually fit. Reasonably confident. But he kind of has that look about him—like a sad, waiting-for-something-to-happen kind of look. If I didn’t know any better, he could almost be someone I would hook up with at a party.
Cameron sucks in a deep breath of air and holds on to it, swinging his arms in front of him, nervously catching his right fist in his left hand over and over. I pick up a Triscuit from the cheese-and-cracker plate his mother brought us. No one says a word. It’s just the sound of Jenny panting faintly in my lap and the cracker crunching between my teeth. Thankfully, Mara comes back right then, her lips perfectly pink and shiny.
“What did I miss?” she asks, smiling happily at all of us, touching Cameron’s back as she walks behind him to take her spot on the floor between us, opposite Steve.
“Well, Steve’s here,” Cameron says, finally exhaling.
“I see that! Hey, Steve,” she tells him.
“And you’re here too,” he says with a playful, friendly smile, like he’s relieved to see her. Suddenly I feel like a total outsider.
“Cameron,” his mother says, standing in the doorway clipping on an earring. “Your father and I are heading out—we have those tickets for tonight, remember?”
