The Way I Used to Be

IT’S TOTALLY SILENT IN the house after breakfast. Caelin left with Kevin to go play basketball with some of their old teammates from high school. Dad needed some kind of special wrench from the hardware store to install the new showerhead he got Mom for Christmas. And Mom was in her room, busy addressing New Year’s cards.

I sit in the living room, staring out the window.

A row of multicolored Christmas lights lining the garage flicker spastically in the gray morning light. The clouds pile one on top of the other endlessly, the sky closing in on us. Next door, a mostly deflated giant Santa rocks back and forth in the center of our neighbors’ white lawn with a slow, sick, zombielike shuffle. It feels like that scene in The Wizard of Oz when everything changes from black and white to color. Except it’s more like the other way around. Like I always thought things were in color, but they were really black and white. I can see that now.

“You feeling all right, Edy?” Mom suddenly appears in the room carrying a stack of envelopes in her hands.

I shrug in response, but I don’t think she even notices.

I watch a car roll through the stop sign at the corner, the driver barely glancing up to see if anyone’s there. I think about how they say when most people get into car accidents, it’s less than one mile from their home. Maybe that’s because everything’s so familiar, you stop paying attention. You don’t notice the one thing that’s different or wrong or off or dangerous. And I think about how maybe that’s what just happened to me.

“You know what I think?” she asks in that tone she’s been using on me ever since Caelin left for school over the summer. “I think you’re mad at your brother because he hasn’t spent enough time with you while he’s been home.” She doesn’t wait for me to tell her she’s wrong before she keeps talking. To tell her that it’s really her who’s mad that he hasn’t been home enough. “I know you want it to be just the two of you. Like it used to be. But he’s getting older—you’re both getting older—he’s in college now, Edy.”

“I know that—” I start to say, but she interrupts.

“It’s okay that he wants to see his friends while he’s home, you know.”

The truth is, none of us knows how to act around one another without Caelin here. It’s like we’ve become strangers all of a sudden. Caelin was the glue. He gave us purpose—a reason, a way to be together. Because what are we supposed to do with each other if we’re not cheering him on at his basketball games anymore? What are our kitchen table conversations supposed to sound like without him regaling us with his daily activities? I’m certainly no substitute; everyone knows that. What the hell do I have going on that could ever compare to the nonstop larger-than-life excitement that is Caelin McCrorey? At first I thought we were adjusting. But this is just how we are. Dad’s lost without another guy around. Mom doesn’t know what to do with herself without Caelin taking up all her time and attention. And me, I just need my best friend back. It’s simple, yet so complicated.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to branch out a bit either,” she continues, shuffling the stack of envelopes in her hands. “Make a couple of new friends. It’s officially the new year.” She smiles. I don’t. “Edy, you know I think Mara’s great—she’s been a great friend to you—but a person is allowed more than one friend in life is all I’m saying.”

I stand and walk past her into the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of water, just so I have something, anything, to focus on other than my mom, the pointlessness of this conversation, and the endless train wreck of thoughts crashing through my mind.

She stands next to me at the kitchen counter. I can feel her staring at the side of my face. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin. She reaches out to tuck my bangs behind my ear, like she always does. But I back away. Not on purpose. Or maybe it is. I’m not sure. I know I’ve hurt her feelings. I open my mouth to tell her I’m sorry, but what comes out instead is: “It’s too hot here. I’m going outside.”

“Oh-kay,” she says slowly, confused.

My feet quickly move away from her. I grab my coat off the hook near the back door, slide my boots on, and walk out to the backyard. I brush the snow off one of the wooden swing-set seats. I feel the bruises on my body swell against the cold wood and metal chains. I just want to sit still for a second, breathe, and try to figure out how things could have ever gotten to this point. Figure out what I’m supposed to do now.

I close my eyes tight, weave my fingers together—and though I know I don’t do it nearly as much as I probably should—I pray, pray harder than I’ve ever prayed in my life. To somehow undo this. To just wake up, and have it be this morning again, except this time nothing would have happened last night.

I remember sitting down at the table with him. We played Monopoly. It was nothing, though. Nothing seemed wrong. He was actually being nice to me. Acting like . . . he liked me. Acting like I was more than just Caelin’s little sister. Like I was a real person. A girl, not just a kid. I went to bed happy. I went to bed thinking of him. But the next thing I remember is waking up to him climbing on top of me, putting his hand over my mouth, whispering shutupshutupshutup. And everything happening so fast. If it could all be a dream, just a dream that I could wake up from, then I would still be safe in my bed. That would make so much more sense. And nothing will be wrong. Nothing will be different. I’ll just be in my bed and nothing bad will ever have to happen there.

“Wake up,” I think I whisper out loud. God, just wake up. Wake up, Edy!

“Eden!” a voice calls.

My eyes snap open. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach as I look around. Because I’m not in my bed. I’m in the backyard sitting on the swing, my bare fingers numb, curled tightly around the metal chains.

“What are you doing, splitting atoms over there?” my brother shouts from the back door. “I’ve been standing here calling your name a hundred times.”

He walks toward me, his steps are wide and swift and sure, the fresh snow crushing easily under his feet. I sit up straighter, put my hands in my lap, and try not to give away anything that would let him know how wrong my body feels to me right now.

“So, Edy,” Caelin begins, sitting down on the swing next to mine. “I hear you’re mad at me.”

I try to smile, try to do my best impression of myself. “Let me guess who told you that.”

“She said it’s because I’m not spending enough time with you?” His half grin tells me he half believes her.

“No, that’s not it.”

“Okay, well, you’re acting way weird.” He elbows me in the arm and adds with a smile, “Even for you.”

Maybe this is my chance. Would Kevin really kill me if I told—could he really kill me? He could. He made sure I knew he could if he wanted to. But he’s not here right now. Caelin is here. To protect me, to be on my side.

“Caelin, please don’t leave tomorrow,” I blurt out, feeling a sudden urgency take hold of me. “Don’t go back to school. Just don’t leave me, okay? Please,” I beg him, tears almost ready to spill over.

“What?” he asks, almost a laugh in his voice. “Where is this coming from? I have to go back, Edy—I don’t have a choice. You know that.”

“Yes, you do, you have a choice. You could go to school here—you had that scholarship to go here, remember?”

“But I didn’t take it.” He pauses, looking at me, uncertain. “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say here. Are you serious?”

“I just don’t want you to go.”

“All right, just for fun let’s say I stay. Okay? But think about it, what am I supposed to do about school? I’m right in the middle of the year. All my stuff is there. My girlfriend is there. My life is there now, Edy. I can’t just drop everything and move back home so we can hang out, or whatever.”

“That’s not what I mean. Don’t talk to me like I’m a kid,” I tell him quietly.

“Hate to break it to you, but you are a kid, Edy.” He smiles, clapping my shoulder. “Besides, what’s Kevin supposed to do? We’re roommates. We share a car. We share bills—everything. We’re kind of depending on each other right now, Edy. Grown-up stuff. You know?”

“I depend on you too—I need you.”

“Since when?” he says with a laugh.

“It’s not funny. You’re my brother, not Kevin’s,” I almost shout, my voice trembling.

“All right, all right.” He rolls his eyes. “Apparently you gave up having a sense of humor for your New Year’s resolution,” he says, standing up like the conversation is over just because he’s said what he wanted to say. “Come on, let’s go inside.” He holds out his hand to me. I feel my feet plant themselves firmly in the snow. My legs begin to follow him instinctually, as they always have. My hand rises toward his. But then just as my fingers are about to touch his palm, something snaps inside of me. Physically snaps. If my body were a machine, it’s like the gears inside of me just grind to a halt, my muscles short-circuit and forbid my body to move.

“No.” I say firmly, my voice someone else’s.

He just stands there looking down at me. Confused because I’ve never said no to him before in my entire life. He shifts from one foot to the other and turns his head ever so slightly, like a dog. He exhales a puff of air through his smiling lips and opens his mouth. But I can’t let him say whatever smart-ass remark his mind is churning out.

“You don’t get it!” I would have yelled the words if my teeth weren’t clenched.

“Get what?” he asks, his voice an octave too high, looking around us like there’s someone else here who’s supposed to be filling him in.

“You’re my brother.” I feel the words collapsing in my throat like an avalanche. “Not Kevin’s!”

“What’s your problem? I know that!”

I stand up, can’t let him try to get away before he knows the truth. Before I tell him what happened. “If you know that, then why is he always here? Why do you keep bringing him with you? He has his own family!” My voice falters, and I can’t stop the tears from falling.

“You’ve never had a problem with him being around before. In fact, it’s almost like the opposite.” The sentence hangs in the air like an echo. I look up at him. Even blurry through my tears I can tell he’s mad.

“What do you mean”—I shudder—“the opposite?”

“I mean, maybe it’s time to drop the whole little schoolgirl-crush thing. It was cute for a while, Edy—funny, even—but it’s played itself out, don’t you think? It’s obviously making you, I don’t know, mean, or something. You’re not acting like yourself.” And then he adds, more to himself, “You know, I guess I should’ve seen this coming. It’s so funny because me and Kevin were just talking about this.”

“What?” I breathe, barely able to give the word any volume. I can’t believe it. I cannot believe he’s really done it. He’s managed to turn my brother—my true best friend, my ally—against me.

“Forget it,” he snaps, throwing his hands up as he walks away from me. And I can only watch him get smaller, watch him fade from color to black and white, like everything else. I stand there for a while, trying to figure out how to follow, how to move—how to exist in a world where Caelin is no longer on my side.

That night I close my bedroom door gently. I turn the lock ninety degrees to the right and pull on the knob as hard as I can, just to make sure. Then I turn around and look at my bed, the sheets and comforter clean and perfectly made up. I don’t know how I can possibly go even one more minute without telling someone what happened. I take my phone out of my pocket and start to call Mara. But I stop.

I turn on the ceiling light and my desk lamp, and then pull out my sleeping bag from the top shelf of my closet. I roll it out onto the floor, and try to think of anything but the reason why I cannot bring myself to sleep in my bed. I lie down, half falling, half collapsing, onto my bedroom floor. I pull my pillow over my head and I cry so hard I don’t know how I’ll ever stop. I cry for what feels like days. I cry until there are no more tears, like I have used them all up, like maybe I have broken my damn tear ducts. Then I just make the sounds: the gasping and sniffling. I feel like I might just fall asleep and not wake up—in fact, I almost hope I do.