Becoming Sarah (5 page)

As if she’d heard me hum the tune, my mother raised her head and saw me standing on the sidewalk outside her window. I smiled; I half expected her to know me.

Instead she frowned and, with a jerk of her arm, pulled the curtain closed.

On my way home, I stopped by Sarah’s bank just before closing time. I told the teller I’d forgotten the PIN for my ATM card. It was almost too easy: I handed over my card, showed her my driver’s license, she glanced from the photo to my face, and I was set. She swiped my card through her machine, then let me choose a new PIN. She gave me my balance, almost $7,000.

“I’d like to transfer some of that into someone else’s account,” I said.

“No problem. Do you know the account number?”

I did – I’d handled the bills for me and my mom, so I knew it by heart. I transferred in $2,000 of Sarah’s money. That should tide Mom over until I got everything sorted out. She might wonder where the windfall came from, but she wouldn’t turn it down. I just had to cross my fingers and hope she didn’t spend it all at the corner liquor store.

I was almost to the door when I felt a hand on my arm. I turned to see woman in her late 20s or early 30s, short and a little plump. She shook her finger at me.

“God, Sarah, I was calling your name forever,” she said. “You looked right at me and didn’t recognize me. You must have been in your own little world.”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

“So – I haven’t seen you in ages. Not since the party at Tracy’s. How is Tracy, by the way?”

“She’s, uh, fine.”

She arched her brows. “She? Unless you know something I don’t, Tracy’s a guy.”

“Right. Sorry.” My pulse was racing. I had no idea who this woman was, or who she was talking about. “Slip of the tongue.”

“I guess! So, anyway, I was talking to Kate about you, and she says you haven’t even been to see her since she got back from the hospital.”

“Well, I. . . So, is she feeling better?”

Another strange look. “She’s feeling fine. As good as anyone can when they’re up all night with a newborn. Sarah, are you okay? There’s something weird about you today.”

How had I imagined I could pull this off? My pulse was racing; I could hardly breathe. More than anything, I wanted to get away from this woman. “I – I’m not feeling well myself, actually.”

She peered into my eyes. “You’re not on something, are you?” she asked sharply.

“No! I just – I have to go.” I sprinted out of there, leaving her to gawk after me.

That hadn’t gone well, not well at all. By the time I got back to Sarah’s apartment, I was half panicked. What if this woman spread the word? What if she told everyone that I wasn’t Sarah at all?

Stop it, I told myself sternly, as I let myself into the apartment. So I didn’t know a few of Sarah’s friends. So what? I could claim to have some kind of amnesia. What could they do, anyway? No one could prove anything.

The message light was flashing on the answering machine. I pushed the button. Had Nick called already, as he’d promised?
I’d had a few texts on Sarah’s iPhone, just her friends trying to make plans to go out, but nothing from Nick.

Sarah’s mother
. “Hello, dear. I haven’t heard from you in so long. Please give me a call as soon as you can – I’m a little worried.”

A woman’s voice, young and full of laughter. She had a faint French accent. “Hello, there. It’s your old pal Aurélie. Remember me? Yes, the one you haven’t called in nearly a million years. Did you turn off your cell phone or something? I lef
t two voicemails last week
. Anyway, I’m here with Liza and we’ve decided we’re taking you out tonight. Be ready about 10:30. We’ll have a fabulous time, I promise. Ciao, darling.”

A third message, this one from a man who didn’t sound at all pleased. “Sarah, it’s Charles Young. You’ll notice that it’s the fifth of the month. I still have not received your rent check, and I must remind you that this is the third time this year you’ve been late. I’ll expect the check in my mailbox by the middle of next week, rent plus the late penalty.”

Oh, hell. Nothing from Nick, and Sarah was as irresponsible as my mother. And, worse, I had no idea where to send the check. I didn’t even know where to find Sarah’s checkbook, and the bank was closed until tomorrow.

I rushed around the apartment in a frenzy, pulling out drawers and ransacking them. Nothing. I tried the kitchen, living room, and spare room with no luck. In the bedroom I pulled out the drawer next to the bed. There was the checkbook, and – oh,
crap
. A round plastic compact, beige.

I snapped it open.

Birth control pills. Pills I hadn’t been taking.

I’d had sex with Nick early this afternoon. Unprotected sex.

How stupid could I be? The pills were marked by day of the week. Sarah had taken the last pill on Tuesday. Today was Friday, so even if I took one right now, I’d missed two already.

Oh, God, what if I was pregnant? My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t stop shaking. What if I got evicted? What if Sarah’s friend knew I was an imposter? What if I’d somehow screwed things up with Nick, and he never did call? Two days in this body and I’d made a mess of things already.

My heart was beating too fast and all the thoughts in my head went round and round and round. My body shook. I was breathing hard, from fear rather than exertion. I’d never felt like this before. It was like I was having a heart attack or something.

I had to get out. I ran through the apartment, out the door, and down the first flight of stairs. It was only when I heard my door slam closed that I realized I’d left the keys on the kitchen counter.

Overwhelmed, my knees too weak to hold me, I collapsed on the top stair on the third-floor landing.
“Damn, damn, damn,” I yelled. How could I be so stupid?

I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked myself. I’d been pretty competent for a 16-year-old. I’d dealt with some major adult problems. My mom’s drinking, for one. Her financial troubles. I knew how to put her to bed after she passed out and how to feed the two of us on less than $50 a week. But this life – Sarah’s life – was careening out of control. It seemed somehow more complicated. I’d skipped ahead, and in doing so missed all kinds of things like living in a dorm, getting a boyfriend my own age, making small mistakes instead of big ones. I wasn’t ready to be 24 and on my own.

A door opened behind me. “Sarah? Is t-that you?”

I swiped at my eyes with my fingertips. My fingers came away moist. “Matt. Hi.”

He flashed me a puppy-dog smile. “You remembered
my name
.”

“Of course.”

“So, what’s going on? I thought I heard. . .”

“Yeah.” I shrugged and forced a laugh. “I was yelling at myself for being such an idiot. I locked myself out. Hey, mind if I use your phone to call a locksmith?”

“Maybe I can do better than that. Come on in.”

I followed Matt into his apartment. Pretty sparse furnishings, but clean for a bachelor pad. A pile of Dominoes pizza boxes in the kitchen, a big TV dominating the living room, a wall calendar featuring women in swimsuits. Matt noticed me noticing the calendar. Color flooded his cheeks. “That’s my roommate’s. He’s not here a lot. He’s got a girlfriend over in the Marina. You’ve probably seen him around – he’s got red hair?”

“Um, yeah. I think I’ve seen him.”

Matt motioned me over to a window in the living room. “So anyway, I thought maybe I could climb up the fire escape here and get into your place. If you haven’t locked the window, that is. Have you?”

“I’m not sure.” It was kind of cute the way Matt talked fast when he was nervous. He was starting to grow on me. “Are you sure it’s not too dangerous? Because I can just –“

“No, no. No problem. Let me give it a try.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Matt opened his window and crawled outside. I leaned out to watch him climb the ladder to the fourth floor. “Careful!” I called.

He jiggled my window. “I’ve got it! It’s not locked,” he hollered down. “I’m going in. Meet me at your front door, okay?”

I climbed the stairs and arrived in time to see Matt open my door from the inside. “Welcome, madame,” he joked as he ushered me inside.

“Thank you so much.”

We stood in my living room. An awkward moment of silence loomed between us. “Uh, so. . .” he began, just as I said, “Well, anyway. . .”

We laughed together, which broke the tension. “You first,” he said.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure, please.”

I opened the fridge. “I’ve got water or, um, that’s about it.”

“Water’s fine.”

I fetched two glasses, added ice, and poured the Evian. We stood in the kitchen. “It’s funny,” Matt said, “but there’s something about you – you seem different than before.”

“Yeah? In what way?” I really was curious, not worried that Matt would see through my pretense. “What am I usually like?”

“Oh, um, I didn’t mean – that is, I’m not saying I know you very well. It’s just that today, you know, you’re kind of. . .warmer.” He was blushing. “Maybe that’s the wrong word. I don’t know. You seem more down to earth. Not that you were aloof or anything before.”

“No, it’s okay.” Heat rose to my cheeks, too. “So, I guess we’ve never had much of a chance to talk.”

He shook his head. “You’re always rushing somewhere, all dressed up for something. You’ve never had much time to hang around and chat. Not that you’re rude or anything. God, I’m sorry. I’m always saying the wrong things.” He buried his face in his hands.

I smiled and touched his arm. “That's not true. But just so you know, I feel that way, too. All the time.”

He raised his head. “You? No way. You’ve always seemed so confident.”

If only he knew. “Not always.” I laughed. “I’ve hardly been confident the last couple of times you've seen me. In fact, I've been a total mess."

“Yeah.” He tilted his head toward me. “For some reason I’m thinking there’s more wrong today than getting locked out.”

Where to begin? This was the first time in days I’d had a normal conversation, and I wasn’t about to spoil it with huge lie. On the other hand, he would hardly believe the truth. “You’re right,” I said, “but I can’t really talk about it.”

“If you ever want to, you know where I live.”

“Thanks.” I had a sudden thought. “Hey, you can help with something. Somehow I managed to lose the address for our landlord, and my rent is late. You wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

“Sure, downstairs. I’ll get it for you.”

I followed Matt to his apartment, where he wrote out Charles Young’s address. “Thanks again,” I said. “For everything.”

“Sure. Hey, have you had dinner?”

“Not yet.”

“There’s this Italian place in North Beach that’s really good. Uh, maybe I c-could take you tonight?”

He’d relaxed earlier and lost his stutter, but it was back. I realized this wasn’t a casual question. “Like, on a date?”

“Uh, I guess. Yeah.”

A part of me was tempted. Matt seemed to like me, Jamie, as a person. He was easy to talk to. He was even, in his own way, kind of cute. If I'd still been in my old body, I would have been thrilled that he'd asked me out. But I wasn't in my old body. I was in Sarah's, and she could have any guy she wanted. I couldn't quite picture someone like Sarah dating someone like Matt.

Besides, I already had a boyfriend -- Nick. A gorgeous, charming boyfriend who was supposed to call me tonight. I also had Sarah’s friends coming over in a few hours.

“I can’t,” I said.

Matt’s face fell, but he shrugged. “Sure, I understand.”

“I’m kind of with someone.”

“The blonde guy. Yeah, I’ve seen him around. So, okay, no problem.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve got to go.”

On the way out, I tried not to notice the disappointment plain on Matt’s face.

I went grocery shopping. It was a new experience for me; for once, I had plenty of cash in my pocket. My stomach was growling, so I loaded up my basket. I got some of my old staples, like spaghetti and pasta sauce in a jar, but I also tried some of the kinds of things I thought Sarah might eat. I bought a hunk of real parmesan cheese, instead of the dry stuff in a can. I grabbed a pint of fresh strawberries, just because they smelled so good when I walked by the produce department. I picked out a loaf of crusty bread fresh from the bakery, instead of the sliced white bread I used to buy.

I walked home lugging my bags, feeling better than I had since I’d woken up on the bathroom floor. I fixed myself dinner and ate it slowly at Sarah’s long dining room table, with her heavy silverware and a cloth napkin on my lap.

After dinner, I picked up Sarah’s birth control pills from the floor where I’d dropped them. I read the package insert carefully. It said I had to take two pills today and two tomorrow, to make up for the ones I’d missed. It added that I should use a back up method for the rest of the month. If I was pregnant already, the damage was done, but I promised myself that I’d be more careful from now on.