The Way I Am Now (The Way I Used to Be)

She knocks on my door at exactly seven forty-five. I open it, ready, but not prepared for how she looks. “Oh wow.”

She laughs. “Oh wow to you too.”

“Sorry, but you look . . .” She glances down at herself. She’s wearing a dress—the only time I’d ever seen her in a dress before was the first time she ever came to my house. It was supposed to be our first date, except she didn’t want to go anywhere. “You look really . . .”

“Really?”

“Really amazing.”

“You look really amazing,” she says, and pulls me close to her for a kiss. “You ready?”

She leads the way down the stairs and to her car. “We’re driving?”

“It’s not too far, but . . .” She lifts her heel in this adorable way that makes her look like she’s about to dance. “Not in these shoes.”

“Are you sure this isn’t fancy?”

“Oh my God, I’m not proposing, Josh!” She laughs as she unlocks the doors.

I get in and buckle up. “I feel underdressed.”Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

“You’re not, I’m just overdressed.”

“Hmm, well . . . to me, you’re always overdressed.”

“What do you mean?” She side-eyes me as she pulls away from the curb. “I never dress up.”

“No,” I tell her, reaching over to touch her bare knee. “I mean, overdressed as in you’re always wearing too much.”

She gasps, pretending to be scandalized. “Well, I never!” She lets her hand float to her heart, and I notice it’s wrapped in a bandage. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Miller.” She laughs. “Or at least have the decency to wait until I’ve proposed.”

“Okay, mind officially out of the gutter.” I take her hand and try to see around the bandage. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “Just had a little kitchen accident.”

“Did you cut yourself?”

“No, it’s like a tiny burn. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? That doesn’t look tiny.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m tough, you know. I can take a little burn.”

“I know you’re tough.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss the outside of the bandage, kind of shocked at how upset I feel to know she got hurt in any way. “But still.”

She takes her hand back and touches my face as she glances over at me. “You worry too much.”

“Get used to it,” I tell her. “That’s my whole shtick.”

She smiles but doesn’t say anything. And I’m watching her so closely, I don’t even realize the car has stopped until she turns to look at me and says, “We’re here.”

“Here?” I look out my window. “Wait, we’re going here? The Flaming Bowl. I love this place.”

“I know,” she says with a tiny giggle. “That’s why I brought you.”

We walk in a few minutes before eight. Eden gives the host her name, and we’re directed to the bar area to wait until our table’s ready. I reach for Eden’s hand, but she tenses up and gently pulls away. “Shit, sorry. I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” she says softly, and moves to the other side of me, offering her right hand instead. “I’m not going to break.”

I see Eden look behind me and grin, but before I can ask why, I hear two distinct voices, one in each ear, say in a whisper, “Surprise!”

I jump and spin around. Dominic and Parker are yelping and shouting, “Oh my God, your face!”

“Did you see it?” Parker exclaims, pulling Eden in for a hug as she hands off a bunch of balloons, strings tied together, floating over our heads.

“What . . . what is this?” I ask.

“It’s your surprise birthday party!” Eden shouts, throwing her arms around me.

“My birthday isn’t until next week.”

“I know, that’s the surprise,” she says, laughing. “Are you really surprised?”

“Yes!” I am definitely surprised.

“Thank God you’re finally here. Someone already stopped me to ask where the bathroom was,” Parker says, taking a sip from her tiny ceramic cup of sake.

“Why would someone ask you where the bathroom was?” Eden asks.

“Well, because I’m Asian I must work here.”

“Oh my God, what did you say?”

Dominic starts laughing, and so do I.

“What am I missing?” Eden asks.

“This happens a lot, you’ll see. So my go-to response is to tell them in Korean I don’t fucking work here, asshole. They walk away real fast.”

“That’s brilliant!” Eden claps and laughs with her whole body.

I look up at Dominic, smiling as he’s watching me watching Eden. “What?” I ask him, moving closer to stand next to him.

He shakes his head and passes me a Coke with lime, which he’s already ordered for me from the bar. “It’s just good to see you happy, that’s all.” He raises his glass. “Happy birthday, man.”

“Thanks.”

All through dinner, we talk and laugh and Eden makes sure she keeps telling everyone it’s my birthday. And the chef keeps calling me “the birthday boy” even while he’s performing all the theatrics of the meal, balancing and chopping and tossing ingredients and setting the whole grill on fire. I would normally feel weird about the special attention—I never used to let my parents tell restaurants it was my birthday when I was younger for fear they’d have the whole staff come out and sing “Happy Birthday.” And that’s exactly what happens. Parker takes a video. I would be embarrassed, with the whole restaurant clapping for me, but I can tell it’s making Eden so happy. And then she kisses me right there in front of everyone— really kisses me—and they all erupt in raucous cheers.

I lean in close and say, “I love you.”

She rests her head on my shoulder for just a moment and says quickly, quietly, “You too.”

After the performance art that is hibachi, we’re left to finish eating. Eden says, “Save room for dessert, everybody.”

Parker sets her chopsticks down and says, “Oh yeah. I got a little sneak peek, and we’re definitely gonna want to save room.”

We all pile into Eden’s car, with our to-go containers and the balloons filling the back seat.

“Thank you,” I tell them again. “This was a really fun birthday surprise.”

Dominic says, “It was all your girlfriend.”

My girlfriend, I repeat in my head, I love the way that sounds.

“And . . . ,” Eden adds. “There’s still one more thing.”

“More?” I ask.

“Yes, you’re not the only one who can plan multipart dates.”

As we arrive home, Eden instructs Dominic and Parker to escort me to the roof. “I’ll be up in a minute,” she says.

While we wait up on the roof, Parker clears her throat and announces, “So, we’ve been conferring tonight, and we just want you to know that we think you really found a good one.”

“I know I had my share of doubts earlier,” Dominic admits, “but you clearly make each other deliriously happy, so there’s no arguing with that.”

“Not that you need our blessing or anything,” Parker adds. “Just thought we’d give you a little unsolicited feedback.”

Before I can say anything, Eden is backing through the door of the roof, and as she turns around and lets the door fall closed behind her, I see she’s carrying a cake with candles lit all over it. They start singing to me for the second time tonight, and as she sets the cake down on the wicker table, I see that there are tiny peanut butter cups mixed into the frosting.

“Oh my God, you didn’t,” I say. “Peanut butter cups?”

“Make a wish,” she answers, squeezing in next to me on the love seat, draping her arm around my shoulder.

I look over at her and think, I have nothing left to wish for. But I don’t say that. I lean forward and blow out the candles anyway. She kisses me on the cheek, then stands up to get a bag from the corner and pulls out plates and utensils—not paper—that she must’ve brought up here earlier.

“You really planned this all out, didn’t you?” I ask her.

She shrugs, but she can’t hide her smile as she plucks the candles out of the cake and sets them on a napkin. “Okay, since it’s your birthday, you have to make the first cut, and then whoever’s birthday comes next has to take the knife out.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Dominic says.

Parker shakes her head. “Me neither.”

“Really?” Eden asks. “We always did that in my family.”

“I like that tradition,” I tell her. I try to position the knife to make a decent-size slice.

“Bigger,” Parker shouts.

“Okay, how’s this?”

“Perfect,” Eden says. “So, who’s birthday is next?”

Dominic raises his hand and says, “July.”

“April,” Parker adds.

“Guess it’s me, then. November,” Eden explains, placing her hand over mine on the handle of the knife.

She passes around the plates of cake and distributes the forks, and I can’t help thinking that this is the best birthday I’ve ever had. She watches me as I take a bite. “Do you like it?” she asks.

“It’s delicious.” I take another bite, and now she does too. “But I thought you were anti peanut butter and chocolate?”

“You might have converted me.”

“Josh,” Parker says, “you know Eden made this cake, right?”

“Wait, you made this?”

“Well, not from scratch, but yeah.”

“Oh my God, it tastes like it’s from a real bakery.”

She takes another bite. “Okay, it is pretty good. For chocolate peanut butter.”

When we get inside my room, Eden sets her purse on my dresser and slides her shoes off, peels her sweater down her arms and hangs it on the back of my chair. I love that she seems comfortable here. If it weren’t so soon, I’d ask her to move in with me.

“Thank you for tonight.” I wrap my arms around her waist from behind. “You’re so thoughtful, you know that?” I kiss her hair, her neck. “So sweet.”

“Really?” She spins around to face me. “Thoughtful and sweet? No one’s said that to me in a very long time.”

“Well, you are.”

“No, you are,” she says, touching the side of my face with her non-bandaged hand.

“You’re physically incapable of taking a compliment, aren’t you?”

She looks up and smiles in this way that makes me feel almost lightheaded as she brings her arms up around my shoulders. My hands find her hips automatically, and we sort of clumsily sway from side to side a little as we pull each other closer.

“What, are we dancing or something?” she asks.

“Why not?” I ask back, rocking her more intentionally.

“There’s no music,” she points out.

“Well, there’s music playing in my head,” I joke, committing to this cheesy giddiness welling up inside my chest.

She throws her head back in laughter. “Oh my God, did you really just say that?” She giggles, her whole face lighting up as she moves in to kiss me. “You giant nerd.”

I take her hand from the spot where it’s resting on my neck, raise it in the air, and awkwardly twirl her in a slow circle. As I pull her back in, she pushes up against me, standing on her toes to kiss me again, not laughing this time.

“Look at me,” she says, holding my chin. “I love everything about you.”

I like to think I’m so level all the time, but she can come out of nowhere sometimes, like right now, and say something so wonderful and dizzying it makes me come undone completely. She pulls my shirt off over my head, her mouth on my skin, and I move my hands all over her dress, testing from the top and bottom, trying to figure out which way it comes off. “How do you—I don’t see . . . ?”

“Zipper.” She laughs and turns around so I can unzip her dress. “But wait, there’s a little hook at the top that you have to undo first.”

“I see it.” Carefully, I unlatch the delicate little eye hook and slowly unzip the dress. I trace the curve of her back as the two sides separate. She reaches up to pull her hair out of its clip, and as she runs her fingers through it to shake it out, I can smell her shampoo or whatever it is that never fails to make me want her even more than I always already do.

She moves on top of me as we climb into bed together, her hair falling over my bare skin as she kisses my chest, my arms, my stomach. I don’t know how she can both relax me and turn me on at the same time—something I never knew I was missing out on before her. I can feel her breath as she plants tiny kisses up the center of my body, feel her mouth smiling when she reaches my lips. Then she leans on her elbow, shifting to the side of me, her hands so warm on my waist as she looks down. “You know I really love you, right?”

“I know,” I tell her, letting my finger trace the shape of her lips. “I really love you too.”

She lays her head against my chest and inhales deeply, arranging herself in my arms. “Can we just lie here for a minute?” she whispers.

“We can just lie here all night.”

She raises her head. “Yeah?” she asks.

“I’m actually really tired,” I admit. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I could definitely rally.”

She releases a short burst of air against my neck, a silent laugh, as she lays her head back down. “I could too,” she says, as she stretches out alongside my body, draping her leg over mine. “But this feels nice,” she whispers.

“It does,” I agree, my arm finding a perfect resting spot along the small of her back.

This would be the time to tell her about my parents coming to visit. I set my other hand on top of hers on my chest, feeling the gauzy bandage underneath. “You burned your hand making my cake, didn’t you?”

“Amateur mistake,” she says. “Forgot the oven mitts.”

I kiss the palm of her hand. “Did you put something on it, like aloe or something?”

She nods. “Yes, don’t worry.”

I wake up to a strange rattling sound I can’t place. I open my eyes and roll over in bed. It takes me a second to remember we’re in my room and not hers. She’s not in bed. I squint as I look across the room.

It’s too dark to see much more than Eden’s silhouette from the moonlight coming in from the window. I’m about to tell her how beautiful she looks, standing there with her back to me.

But then I realize what the noise was.

Pills. I hear the plastic scrape of the lid being twisted back onto the bottle. And I see her arm reach down to stick it back in her purse. She brings her cupped hand to her mouth and picks up an old water bottle on my dresser, tips it to her lips.

When she turns around, I close my eyes. The bed creaks as she climbs in next to me again. Her body feels cold now as she backs up against me and pulls my arm around her stomach. I feel her inhale deeply and then sigh.

“Hey. You okay?” I ask her.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums.

I kiss the back of her neck and pull her closer. “I know it’s not my business, but . . . ,” I start, and she twists around to face me. “What are you taking?” I whisper.

“Oh,” she breathes. “It’s nothing.”

“Well, I’ve seen you do that a few times now, when you think I’m sleeping.” I push her hair back behind her ear, try to be gentle. “I know it’s none of my business,” I repeat. “But are you okay?”

“It’s just to help me sleep.”

“You’re having trouble sleeping again?”

“Not again,” she corrects me. “Still.”

How did I not know that? “Oh. I’m sorry,” I whisper. “What can I do?”

She curls up to me and says, “This.”

I tighten my arms around her and decide not to mention the other pills I saw in her room.

“It’s not ‘none of your business,’ Josh,” she says. “I was going to tell you; I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Thanks for telling me now. It actually makes me worry a little less just knowing.”

“Really?” she asks, her voice sounding small in the silence of the night.

I nod.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“All right?” I answer, trying to prepare myself to act surprised about the other pills.

“One of the reasons I wanted to have your birthday early,” she begins, “is because I have to be away next week.”

And now she’s surprised me for a second time tonight. “Wait, where? Why?”

“There’s a hearing. I’ll have to be back home for a couple of days at least. The DA said I should plan for the whole week, just in case.”

“What?” I say too loudly. “But they can’t just expect you to drop everything at the last minute.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, looking down as she runs her fingers along my collarbone, neck, jaw. “I’ve known about it for a few months.”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why she wouldn’t have told me. That’s not the important thing right now, though, so I try to push that out of my head. “I’m coming with you, obviously.”

“No.” She stops touching my face and finally meets my eyes. “It’s really not a huge deal.”

“It is a huge deal.” I sit up now. “Can I just ask, why didn’t you tell me before now?”

She sits up too and pulls the sheet close to her body. “Don’t be mad—”

“No, I’m not mad,” I interrupt. “I’m not mad at you at all; I’m just . . .” I stop myself from saying “worried” and settle on “confused.”

“Things have been so wonderful,” she says, rubbing her head like it hurts.

“Yeah,” I agree. “They have. They are.”

“Well, I didn’t want to ruin it by talking about all this fucked-up shit.”

“Okay, but we can’t just ignore it, either.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snaps at me.

I shake my head. “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant.”

She sighs. “I know, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Jesus Christ. See?” she says, her voice shaking. “This is why. This is exactly why I didn’t want to let this get in.” She waves her hand through the air, this tiny space between us. “It ruins everything.”

“Hey, listen to me,” I tell her, reaching for her hand. “Everything’s fine, okay?”

She starts to shake her head.

“With us, I mean. Everything’s fine with us. Nothing can ruin this.” What I don’t say is that it is already in. It’s always been there. “Let me come with you, though.”

“No.”

“Eden—”

“I won’t be able to do it if you’re there, Josh.”

I can’t imagine what my face is doing right now, but I try my best to wipe it clean of any reaction.

“No, what I mean is, I don’t want you to hear the details. I honestly don’t want anyone to hear any of this.” She pauses and looks at me, waiting, debating. “He’s going to be there. You really want to be in the same room with him?” she asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. “I don’t.”

“So, you’re just gonna do it alone?”

“Yes.”

“What about your mom? I’m sure she’d want to—”

She shakes her head. “She’s testifying too, so she can’t be there for mine; I can’t be there for hers. And I wouldn’t want her to be there anyway. The only way I’m going to be able to do this is by myself.” She stares at me. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No—nothing. I’m just thinking. Just trying to understand.” Why would she rather do this alone when I’m offering to be there with her? I have so many questions, I barely know where to start. “But I thought your mom didn’t know anything about what happened. She didn’t, right?” I ask, because that would be incredibly fucked up if she did. But what I say is, “What is she going to testify about if she didn’t know?”

“Josh,” she moans, “puh-lease, please, I don’t want to—”

“I just want to help, Eden.” I touch her face, kiss her forehead before she can back away. “I just want to know what’s going on.”

She rolls onto her back and looks up at the ceiling. “My mom didn’t know. But she saw something. Something that she thought was something else.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. “What did she see?”

“The next morning, she saw blood on my nightgown and legs, the sheets.”

Blood. The word echoes in my head. My heart starts racing— no, it races, then stops abruptly, stuttering.

Eden clears her throat and continues, quieter. “She assumed I just got my period. I guess. I mean, why would she think anything else?” she adds, more to herself. “And that morning, I kind of tried to tell her—my brother too—but I didn’t actually tell them. I—I wasn’t clear. I wanted them to guess. I didn’t want to have to say it. I didn’t know how to say it. So, I don’t know. I think they want to know about that morning from my mom and Caelin’s perspectives.”

These are the details. Nightgown. Legs. Sheets. Blood. This is why she doesn’t want me there.

“See?” she asks. “You don’t feel any better knowing that, do you?”

“That’s not—that doesn’t matter, I . . .” I try to find the right thing to say, but I can’t.

“I’m getting tired,” she says, turning to press her back against me, pulling my arm around her again, ending the conversation. She brings my hand to her mouth and kisses my fingertips softly. “Thank you for offering, though, really.”

I try my best to relax, but my whole body is tense now. I hold her while she falls asleep and I try not to think about her blood or nightgown or legs or sheets. Try not to think about her waiting for someone to see, to guess, what had happened. And finally, I try not to imagine what I’d do if I ever found myself in a room with him again.