Past Perfect Life

by Elizabeth Eulberg

  It’s true. With everything I’m leaving behind, there’s a pain in my heart each time I think about not being around Neil anymore. My lips tingle at the memory of his lips on mine.

  “It’s only for a while,” Neil reminds me. “You’ll be back for college.”

  I really hope that’s true.

  He studies me for a minute, then a smile spreads on his face and my stomach does a little flutter. “And, Ally, I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer. You’re worth it.”

  Chapter

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “I have something to tell you,” Sheriff Gleason says to me the next day. “I gave your message to your father.”

  “You did?” A foreign feeling swells in my belly: hope. I haven’t felt hopeful in what seems like forever. Even though I can’t say goodbye, I need to have some kind of word from him before I leave.

  “Yes. He thanks you for the message, but most of all he wants you to know that he loves you. He made it easy so I couldn’t forget.” He gives me a wink. “He also said that he wants you to give your mother a chance. He knows he’s deprived her of getting to see an incredible young woman grow up. And I agree with him. Paula and her family deserve a chance. They’ve been punished for years. So please try.”

  I nod. Dad has a point, even though, you know, this is his fault. I can’t deny that Paula is my mother and I should try. It doesn’t really matter, does it? The law says I have to go with my guardian. Sheriff Gleason says I have to go. Even my dad wants me to go with them. So I’m going.

  But I can be sad about leaving. All through packing and even now, I’m still in disbelief that I’m really moving. That this IS happening.

  “Please give them until at least graduation.” He says it as if it doesn’t feel a lifetime away. “Then you can come back here. You’ll be so busy with your last semester of senior year it’ll fly by.”

  “Sure,” I reply unconvincingly.

  “Well, I better make sure there aren’t any prying eyes around.”

  “Thanks, truly.” I give him a quick hug before either of us tears up.

  He nods at me one last time before exiting the house.

  I head to the living room and sit on the couch, my packed bags by my feet. Marian and her mom wait with me for Paula and Craig to show up. Baxter’s lying on the floor, his sad eyes looking up at me. He can tell there’s something wrong. Dogs always have a sixth sense about these things. He whimpered when Marian took him out this morning, stubbornly pulling on his leash. I have a feeling he thinks I’m leaving him behind. He’s probably going to hate being on the plane. He’ll probably hate Florida, too, but at least I’ll have him.

  “They’re here,” Marian’s mom says as she pulls the drapes down again. “Now, remember, call if you need anything.”

  “And I’ll see you in a couple weeks,” Marian replies.

  Marian’s mom called Paula last night to see if it would be okay if Marian came to visit me during Christmas break.

  It’s making an impossible situation just a tiny bit easier knowing I’ll get to see a familiar face soon.

  Baxter starts running in his little circle. He started doing this his second day here. I think he’s waiting for Dad to walk through the door.

  “Come here,” I call to him. For some reason I don’t want him enthusiastically greeting Paula and Craig. They haven’t earned that yet. “Baxter!”

  He yips in protest as I pick him up and place him in my lap. He tries to wiggle out, always wanting to be the welcome wagon, but I hold on tight.

  “They know you have a dog, right?” Marian asks.

  Oh my God. Did I forget to tell them Baxter was coming? Does he need a plane ticket?

  “We’ll figure it out,” Marian’s mom says as she opens the door.

  There’s a little bit of tension as Marian and her mom meet Paula and Craig.

  “Hi, honey. You look great.” Paula’s eyes flicker down to Baxter. “And who is this?”

  Baxter finally has had enough. He gets out of my grip to greet them. He jumps on Paula, who takes a step back. “Oh, goodness, he’s lively.”

  “This is Baxter. I think I forgot to tell you I have a dog.”

  And there it is again. That look between her and Craig. That look isn’t good.

  “Oh, honey …”

  “It’s Ally,” I snap, knowing full well she can’t bring herself to call me by my name. My real name.

  “Ally, sweetie, we can’t have a dog. I’m allergic. Your sister is allergic.”

  Baxter’s tail is wagging happily, despite Paula’s refusal to pet him.

  “Baxter can’t come?” My lip starts to quiver as I fall back down on the couch.

  If I have to leave Baxter behind, it will be my complete undoing. I’m desperately trying to hold on to something of my former life. Baxter is the most innocent creature in all of this. They are going to take him away from me.

  “We can look after him,” Marian offers.

  “Well, that would be nice,” Craig says. “And, you know, we can figure something out. Plus, we don’t even have a ticket for him. Maybe he can visit at Christmas.”

  “I don’t get to keep my dog,” I state, not hiding the anger in my voice.

  “We’ll see what we can do. We don’t want to keep you two apart,” Craig says with a friendly nudge of his elbow, like he’s on my side. Like he’s my pal.

  “Yes, we wouldn’t want to take me away from the things and places I love,” I say with every ounce of spite I can conjure.

  The air goes out of the room. I’m not going to pretend this is okay. I may have no say in what’s happening, but I can make my feelings perfectly clear.

  “You know, we can maybe build a doghouse in the backyard and Baxter can stay there?” Craig offers.

  I stand up. “Let’s just go.”

  I’m done. I’m finished. I want to take one step after the other. Get on that plane. Get to Florida. Get to my new home. And do what Sheriff Gleason says: start counting down the days until I graduate and then I can return here.

  I bend down and pet Baxter, who licks my cheek. “I’m sorry, buddy. Marian will take really good care of you. Be a good boy.” Baxter barks and turns around again in excitement, thinking he’s going somewhere with me. A tear trickles down my face, and he licks it. “I’ll see you soon. I will.”

  I make quick with my goodbyes to Marian and her family. I feel if I stay another second in this house, I won’t have the courage to ever leave again.

  “I’ll see you in two weeks,” Marian whispers in my ear as she hugs me goodbye. “And I’m bringing Baxter with me.”

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  Sheriff Gleason checks for any reporters, and then we walk out to Paula and Craig’s rental car, a fancy SUV. After one more round of hugs, I get in the back seat and take one last look at my friends, my family. I wave to them as Craig pulls out into the road.

  Paula looks back at me. “It means so much to have you back with me, honey. I know this is hard on you, but don’t think of it as an ending. Think of it as a new beginning.”

  Chapter

  TWENTY-SIX

  I can’t stop staring, mouth wide open. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  High above the clouds, the world looks surreal. Peaceful. Beautiful.

  My heart raced when the plane took off from Green Bay. I spent the short flight to Chicago mesmerized by how blue Lake Michigan was and tried to spot certain landmarks in Milwaukee, but we were too high up for me to recognize my life from the past.

  Now, as we get closer to Tampa, the feeling of wonder evaporates as I realize that with every passing second, I’m going farther and farther away from home.

  I close my eyes now and lean back in my seat, letting the sun’s warmth comfort me.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Paula asks as she reaches for the sick bag.

  “Amanda?” Craig says from the aisle seat. “I’m sorry, Ally. Ally,” he repeats before he lets out a laugh. “There’
s a lot to get used to.”

  No shit, Sherlock.

  “Are you okay?” Paula asks. Both she and Craig are studying me.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “I was wondering …”

  “What do you need, honey?” Paula asks.

  I’ve been forced to submit to Paula’s demands so far, but there’s one thing that I want—no, I need—so I don’t completely come undone.

  “I don’t want to make waves, but I would really like you to call me Ally. It’s what I’m used to.”

  She grimaces. “I understand, sweetheart, Ally. But Amanda is my mother’s name. It’s a family name. My mother, your grandmother, can’t wait to see you again. All the family is just bursting with excitement.”

  “We couldn’t keep them away if we tried,” Craig says. “Believe me, I’m someone who has tried.” He snorts as he playfully jabs Paula in the ribs.

  “I’m excited to meet them,” I say as Paula grimaces. “See them again,” I correct myself, even though I have no recollection of my grandmother or anybody I’ve seen in the new album of photos Paula showed me during the first part of this flight.

  I spent extra time looking at my baby book. It hurt to see pictures of Paula, Dad, and baby me as one happy family. There were countless photos of people holding me. Complete strangers.

  “I know I’m named after your mother, which is great, but Ally is what I respond to. Plus, the media knows me as Amanda. All I want is to live a normal life, if that’s even possible anymore. I don’t want any special attention. If I go by Amanda Linsley, everybody will know who I am.”

  “Amanda McMullen,” Craig corrects me.

  Oh, right. They want me to take Craig’s name since he, Paula, and my half sister, Sarah, all have the same last name. The word “adoption” has been thrown out, but I don’t have the capacity to even comprehend that. So like with everything else, I bury it deep inside.

  “Ally McMullen sounds just as good,” I reply unconvincingly, giving Paula another win.

  I’m trying to give her what she wants to stay on her good side. She’s the one in charge of me. She decides when, or even if, I get to visit my friends again. But there are some concessions I refuse to make, starting with my name.

  “Well, we need to sort out your name because we have to get you a new ID,” Paula says. “We can’t be having the police escort you every place you need one.”

  My driver’s license, while valid because I did pass the test, was taken away since it had a fake name. Oh, and, you know, it was obtained using forged documents. Sheriff Gleason was required to escort me through airport security with my birth certificate since I didn’t have a valid photo ID to fly. He must’ve called ahead because everybody was very polite about it, but we did get a few stares from other people waiting in line. Like, Who is this teen getting a police escort? They probably thought I was some troubled youth being hauled off to juvie.

  If they only knew the truth.

  Which is an odd thing to think, because I still feel as if I don’t know the truth about me.

  “Speaking of your grandmother.” Paula pulls out her iPad and starts showing me more pictures. “There she is with your grandfather at our Fourth of July barbecue.”

  “You can see the fireworks over the water from our backyard,” Craig adds.

  She swipes her finger to another picture. “And who is this?” she quizzes me.

  There’s a photo of an older man and woman with two grown kids. I know this. “That’s my aunt Eileen and uncle Fred.”

  “Correct!” Paula beams. “And they are with …”

  The names of my cousins on Paula’s side—I have five!—can’t seem to stick in my brain. Since Paula is the youngest of her siblings, Sarah and I are a few years younger than our cousins, all of whom are either in college or have graduated and have real jobs.

  I shake my head as Paula explains that the cousins in the picture are Mike and Mary. Mike works in IT and has two kids, and I begin to blank out as she tells me about Mary.

  I’m never going to remember this.

  How rude would it be to ask family members to wear name tags for the foreseeable future?

  There’s a chime as the seat-belt sign illuminates. We’re told we are starting our initial descent into Tampa. I look out the window and see palm trees and the sun reflecting off the crisp blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

  “I’ve never seen so much water before,” I say, and then close my mouth. Of course I’ve seen this before, when I was little. There’s this part of my life I can’t seem to recall. Maybe being in Tampa will help me remember that these people I’m about to see aren’t strangers. They’re family. My family.

  I wonder if remembering my past will stop me from being so uneasy about my future. But that’s the thing: the future is scary because there are so many uncertainties. What helps people cope is having people there with them that they can count on.

  With every second I’m on this plane, the distance is growing between me and the people I could rely on.

  I’ve never felt more alone.

  I take a deep breath so I don’t break down in tears on the plane. Paula assumes my nerves are about the landing.

  It’s everything after that has me terrified.

  “It’s okay. It’ll be just like Chicago, maybe a few bumps.” She hesitantly rests her hand on top of mine. “We’re going to try to not overwhelm you, but it’s hard. There are so many people who are grateful you’ve been found. Nobody wants to wait another minute to see you again.”

  “Who will be there tonight?” I try to hide the dread in my voice. These two new people already have my brain at capacity. I don’t know how much more I can take.

  “Most of the family will be there.”

  “Dad’s family, too?” I ask. I’d been so overwhelmed with Paula’s family I’d forgotten to even ask about Dad’s.

  “No,” Paula states flatly.

  “Are they—”

  Paula cuts me off. “It’s going to be nice and casual.”

  So no getting answers about Dad’s family from Paula. Guess that’s another item on the list to tuck away until later.

  “We’re getting some Mexican food delivered.” Paula puts her hand to her heart. “I didn’t even think to ask if you liked Mexican food.”

  “Who doesn’t like Mexican?” Craig asks. “Plus, in Florida you get authentic Mexican.”

  My thoughts go to Taco Tuesdays and watching telenovelas. It made Tuesday one of my favorite days of the week. Am I really never going to eat tacos and watch TV with my dad again? That’s impossible. He’ll eventually be let out of jail, and then …

  Then what?

  Can I go back? Can you ever go back once everything has been upended?

  Craig, oblivious, continues, “You get a nice, long weekend to relax. We can do whatever you want. Sundays we usually go to church.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “What religion are you?”

  Paula seems shocked. “Catholic. And so are you.”

  “I am?” Funny, I think I’d know that. Dad and I went to church on Easter and Christmas because everybody else did, but I never thought of myself as particularly religious.

  “You were baptized,” Mom states.

  “Okay.”

  “I have pictures.” She flips through my baby book again.

  “I believe you.” It doesn’t matter that water was dumped on my head when I was a baby. I’m not a religious person. And let’s be real: with all the shit that’s been happening in my life, I really doubt the existence of some greater good in the universe.

  Craig jumps in, sensing an argument brewing. “Hey, maybe tomorrow we can head to the beach, although it’s a little chilly. I think it’s in the midseventies.”

  A laugh escapes my throat. “Midseventies is cold?”

  “Well, not compared to where we just came from. But the water will be cold. Our pool is heated, though, so if it’s swimming you desire, we will make it happen.”

  Their house has a poo
l? Although looking out the window up here makes me think everybody in Florida has one. It’s your house now, I try to remind myself, but it feels false. It’s like I’m going to live somebody else’s life. But I guess I am. This is Amanda McMullen’s life.

  Ally Smith is slowly being erased. She was the illusion. That life was a fabrication. This is the one that I was meant to have. Maybe someday it will even feel like mine.

  “So what would you like to do this weekend?” Craig asks.

  I’m grateful he seems to want me to have some sort of say in my new life.

  “Anything you want!” he offers.

  If I could do anything, I’d stay on this plane and fly right back to Wisconsin.

  I flash back to my old life. What would I be doing this weekend? Hanging out with Marian. Going on a date with Neil.

  I can’t do any of that stuff. But there is one thing I can do.

  “I’d like to watch the Packers game on Sunday. We’re playing the Bears, and I don’t want to miss it.”

  Craig shakes his head as he laughs. “We’ve got to get you into the Buccaneers. We have season tickets. Have you ever been to an NFL game? Nothing beats seeing it live.”

  I nod. “Yeah, my dad and I went to Lambeau last year for a preseason game.” I pretend to not notice Paula bristle when I mention him.

  That day was the best. We arrived at the stadium early to tailgate. Everybody was decked out in green and gold. Dad and I made burgers and brats on the grill. As we looked at the spreads around us—people grilling lobsters and steaks, one group had a long table full of only appetizers: dips, sausages, cheese, maybe a vegetable (probably not)—Dad declared us “amateurs.” He went over to the “pros” to get some tips, and we were invited to join them.

  “I’ll distract them while you steal the rest of the pan,” Dad joked when he noticed that I’d devoured almost the entire batch of this one dip. I don’t know what it was, but it was cheesy and gooey and possibly the greatest thing I’ve ever eaten. “Your ability to put away food is definitely one of the top five reasons why I’m proud to be your father.”

  “What’s number one?” I had asked.