Who I Used to Be

by Alexa Land

“Agreed. Beyond that, my parents always went to great lengths to keep my sister and me out of the public eye, so it’s not as though anyone will recognize me. In addition to the threat of kidnapping, they knew we’d be hounded relentlessly if the paparazzi ever discovered who we were.”

  I glanced at his profile and said, “It’s crazy that you told me your real name.”

  “I went with my gut. I know you have some misgivings about me, but I see the potential for something real developing between us, and I’m not going to jeopardize that by lying to you.”

  That made me feel terrible. As far as I was concerned, this was just a casual date. He was a nice guy, but we didn’t have the first thing in common. Besides, how could I think about getting seriously involved with him or anybody else when I was barely holding it together?

  The craving I’d managed to tune out most of the day had rebounded and come after me with a vengeance. It was a constant nagging in the back of my mind, and it made me twitchy and anxious. I had to force myself to keep my hands still as I tried to concentrate on the conversation.

  When we reached our destination, a valet whisked the car away and a feeling of dread began to build in me. “I thought we agreed, nothing fancy,” I said as Alastair held a tall, wood and glass door for me and I stepped into the sleek bistro.

  “Right. That’s why I picked this place. The food’s top-notch, but the atmosphere’s casual.” Maybe it qualified as casual in his world, but not in mine. I glanced around as I rolled down my sleeves and buttoned my cuffs. The high-ceilinged modern interior was showy and extravagant, all espresso-colored wood and gleaming silver accents with flashy art on the walls. It was crowded, too, the kind of place where young, trendy people went to see and be seen. In other words, it was everything I hated, distilled down into one place.

  After we were seated, I took a look at the cocktail menu and put it right back down again. I could have used a drink, but the prices were completely ridiculous. Alastair saw what I was doing and said, “Tonight’s on me.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll pay my own way.”

  “But I asked you out and picked the place. That means it’s my treat,” he insisted.

  “I’m not going to let you do that.”

  “Why not?”

  I stared at the little bunch of green-on-green flowers in their square, silver vase on the tabletop and admitted, “I don’t want to feel like I owe you.”

  “You wouldn’t owe me. It’s just dinner.”

  We debated who would pay until the waiter appeared. I felt myself coloring slightly as I asked for a glass of water and separate checks. Alastair looked disappointed.

  While we waited for our drinks, he said, “So, tell me about you.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “Sure there is. Tell me about your family.”

  “It’s just my dad and me. My mom died when I was little.”

  He looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Are you and your father close?” I nodded as a lump formed in my throat. I tried to hide my reaction, but knew I’d failed when Alastair asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “I just miss him. It’s been a long time.”

  “Is distance an issue?”

  “No, he’s not far.”

  “Did you two have a falling out?” I shook my head, wishing to God he’d change the subject, but Alastair pressed ahead. “Please don’t tell me he rejected you for being gay.”

  “He’d never do that. Can we talk about something else?” The waiter arrived with our drinks and asked if we were ready to order, but Alastair told him to give us some time and the man took off again. I sipped the water and tried to push down the emotions that were welling up in me.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Alastair said. “I’m just confused. If your dad’s not far away, and you want to see him and didn’t have a falling out, I can’t possibly imagine what would be preventing you.”

  I blurted, “The Federal Bureau of Prisons.” My date looked stunned. I studied the dark wood tabletop for a while before meeting his gaze and saying quietly, “I don’t usually talk about this, but you were honest with me, so I’m going to be honest, too. My dad’s been in prison for six years, and because I’m a convicted felon, I’m not allowed to visit him. We write to each other every week, but it’s not the same as seeing him, and I miss him so damn much.”

  When I got up to leave, he grabbed my hand and asked, “Where are you going?”

  “Home. I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

  “Please sit down, Zachary.” I hesitated for a moment, then lowered myself onto the chair, partly because people were staring. He said, “I have a great lawyer. Several, actually, so maybe I can help. A father and son shouldn’t be kept apart, that’s just not right.”

  I was shocked at his reaction. All of that should have sent a guy like Alastair running. “That’s nice of you,” I said as I slipped my hand from his, “but nothing can be done. I screwed up when I got arrested, and the laws on visitation are clear.” I glanced up at him. “Go ahead and ask. I know you’re dying to.”

  “I am curious about your conviction, but talking about it is up to you, of course.”

  After another pause, I admitted, “I was arrested for drug possession when I was eighteen. Luckily, I was a first-time offender and got a judge who decided to cut me some slack, so I was given five years’ probation instead of a prison sentence. But that was still a conviction, and my visitation privileges were revoked even before my first visit.”

  “Will you be allowed to see him when your probation is over?”

  “It ended a year ago. My status as a convicted felon hasn’t changed, just because I served my term.”

  “I see.”

  The waiter showed up during our next awkward pause, and Alastair sent him away again. I said quietly, “I’m sorry I’m not the person you thought I was.”

  “I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting that, but it doesn’t keep me from wanting to get to know you.”

  “It should.”

  “I break the law every weekend. Street racing isn’t exactly legal.”

  “That’s hardly the same thing.”

  He paused for a moment, then said gently, “Your dad’s in jail and your mum died when you were little. Clearly, you’ve had a rough time of it. I’m not about to judge you for turning to drugs, especially when I understand all too well the need to escape from reality.”

  “Now you’re just making excuses for me.”

  “Alright, how about this then? I’m a firm believer in trusting my instincts. They serve me well in racing, and they also make me an excellent judge of character. I’ve always known you’re a good person, Zachary, and nothing you tell me is going to change that.”

  I studied my hands, which were creasing the cloth napkin in my lap. “You still don’t know the whole story. Things got pretty desperate for me, and I spent the last couple years working as a prostitute. I’m not proud of that, but you deserve the truth.”

  Alastair was quiet for a moment, before saying gently, “Thanks for trusting me enough to tell me.”

  “Well, you trusted me with your name, so….” It wasn’t the same thing, though. He’d confided in me because he saw the potential for something developing between us. I was trying to show him why that could never happen. We didn’t just come from different worlds, we came from different galaxies. He needed to see that.

  And why were we even having this conversation? I’d just wanted a casual date, a nice night out with an interesting person who might become a friend. Why had he told me such a big secret, and why was he talking about this turning into more? I hadn’t signed on for any of that.

  When the waiter returned yet again, I ordered a cup of tomato soup for dinner. At seventeen dollars, it was the cheapest thing on the menu. Alastair tried not to seem disappointed when I once again shot down his offer to pay, and he ordered something l
ight for himself as well. Since I really was hungry, I dove into the bread basket as soon as it hit the tabletop, which earned me a look from the waiter.

  To draw attention away from the fact that I’d just eaten a roll in two bites and was slathering another with an inch of butter, I asked Alastair where he went to college. When he told me he attended Saithmore, a prestigious private university in the South Bay, I asked, “What made you choose that school, since you probably could have gone anywhere in the world?”

  “Their astronomy program is outstanding, and the telescope in their observatory is one of the very best among those owned by colleges and universities.”

  “What are you going to do with a degree in astronomy?”

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Oh, right. The family obligations.” He nodded and took a sip from his diet soda. I thought about it and asked, “If you weren’t expected to go into the family business, would you have wanted to be an astronaut?”

  “That was my dream when I was little, though I would have also happily spent my life staring through a telescope. As it is, I’ll have to make do with setting up one of my own in the English countryside, for those occasional weekend escapes from the office. A nice thing about this field is that a lot of discoveries have been made by amateur astronomers, which goes to show I can still pursue my passion.” He tried to sound upbeat when he said that, but it seemed a lot like someone trying to convince themselves they were fine with a second place finish. He changed the subject by asking, “What about you? What’s the dream job?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Sure you do. If you could be absolutely anything, what would you choose?”

  I just shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been good at anything.” I recalled how amazing it had felt to build the little wind-up figure earlier that day with TJ, but I didn’t share that with my date. I didn’t think he’d understand what it had meant to me to actually succeed at something, after years of failure.

  “What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

  “A seagull.” Alastair’s composure dropped for a moment, and then he tried to act like that wasn’t the craziest thing he’d ever heard. I explained, “In my defense, I was probably three or four. I saw one backlit by the sun when I was at the beach with my dad, and it looked like it had angel wings. I remember thinking, if I turned into a seagull, I could fly up to heaven and see my mom again. Obviously, I was a pretty stupid kid.” I’d been going for funny with that anecdote, but clearly I’d veered off into pathetic instead. I suppressed a sigh.

  Fortunately, our meal was served a moment later. Alastair chatted about the San Francisco restaurant scene as we ate. I couldn’t contribute much to the conversation. I tried to make the cup of soup last and polished off the bread basket while Alastair pretended to be content with the tiny dish he’d ordered.

  The waiter dropped our checks the moment we finished. He was obviously in a hurry to turn the table over and replace us with some bigger spenders. As we paid our bills, Alastair said, “There’s a great little club around the corner with live music on the weekends, and lucky for me they don’t card people at the door. Would you like to check it out?”

  That just wasn’t going to happen. I was tired and run-down, and fighting the urge to run to Gracie’s house for my next fix. The need had quieted for a few hours when I’d been with TJ, because the project had distracted me, but it had returned with a vengeance over dinner. “It’s been a long week,” I told him. “I think I need to call it a night.”

  “Do you have a headache?” I hadn’t even realized I’d been massaging my forehead again. When I nodded, Alastair said, “Come on, I’ll drive you home. You look like you could use a good night’s sleep, and we can take a raincheck on that club.”

  *****

  He kept up a light, fairly one-sided conversation as we drove across town. When we were getting close to our destination, Alastair said, “This is an interesting neighborhood. I didn’t realize there were houses down here on the waterfront.”

  “There aren’t. My friends live in a converted warehouse. It started out as a bottling plant, back in the twenties or thirties. The next owner tried to turn it into a restaurant, but it went under pretty fast. Sooner or later, a developer will swoop in and turn all the buildings down here into overpriced condos, but for now, we’re pretty much the only residents.”

  From the front, my friends’ home was a windowless rectangle with corrugated metal siding, though they’d landscaped and prettied it up as much as they could. Alastair seemed curious about it when we pulled up at the curb, and it would have been polite to invite him in and show him around, but I just couldn’t. Not only was I mentally and physically exhausted, but I didn’t want him to read into it and think I was offering more than a house tour.

  “I’m sorry about that restaurant,” he said as he walked me to the door.

  “There’s no reason to apologize. Most people would have loved that place.”

  “But you’re not most people. You would have been happier someplace quieter and less pretentious, right?”

  I said, “Yeah, but that still doesn’t mean you need to apologize.”

  “Go out with me next Friday. Let me show you I can do better.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  I glanced at him, then focused on the concrete pathway and said, “I don’t want to lead you on. You’re such a nice guy, but this isn’t going to work out.”

  “I blew it tonight. I came on too strong by talking about this turning into something more, didn’t I? If all you want is to keep it light, I can do that. Absolutely no pressure,” he said. “The place was all wrong, too. I see that now, and I need a do-over. Please, Zachary? Give me one more chance.”

  He seemed so earnest, so hopeful. I just didn’t have it in me to say no to him. It would have felt needlessly cruel, like kicking a puppy. “Okay, next Friday. But seriously, let’s keep it casual, for real this time. Think…I don’t know, cheeseburgers or something.”

  “That place had a cheeseburger on the menu.”

  “It cost thirty-five dollars.”

  “Point taken.” He swooped in and hugged me as he said, “Next Friday’s going to be brilliant, you’ll see.”

  After we said goodnight, I slid the big, metal door shut behind me and someone called, “It’s not even nine and you’re home from your date. That’s a bad sign.” Elijah sat up and peered over the back of the sofa.

  I crossed the open living area and said, “Is it weird that I’m relieved Alastair didn’t try to kiss me goodnight?” The back wall of the warehouse was all glass, and several of the panes had been ratcheted open. When I reached the couch, I turned my face into the cool breeze coming off the bay and exhaled slowly.

  “Kinda, since he’s cute and nice. I talked to him a bit at Jessie’s wedding.”

  “He is.” The warehouse was blissfully silent, and I asked, “Are you the only one here?”

  Elijah nodded. “Everyone else went out to dinner, and to a play or somethin’. I said I had to study. That’s partly true, but I also just needed a little quiet time.” He had two thick textbooks with him, in the blanket nest he’d built in a corner of the big sofa.

  “I totally get it.”

  That made him grin. “I know. So, are you goin’ out with him again?”

  “Yeah. I’m giving it one more shot.”

  “Does the fact that he’s nineteen bother you?”

  I shook my head. “He isn’t a typical nineteen-year-old by any means. He tries to act like he is with the street racing and all that, but he’s actually carrying a lot on his shoulders.”

  “Well, good luck with the second date.” I’d pulled the box from my pocket, and as I unpacked the little turtle, Elijah craned his neck and asked, “What’s that?”

  “Let me show you.” I circled around the couch, wound up the turtle and turned him loose on the coffee table. When he took off wi
th a bouncy step, I grinned.

  “Oh my God, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! Where’d you get it?” I knelt down beside the table and told Elijah about my afternoon with TJ, rewinding the turtle every time it came to a stop. When I finished talking, my friend grinned and said, “I’ve never seen you so excited about anything.”

  “It was such a good day. TJ is just…well, he’s like us, and it feels wonderful to be around him. He’s calm, and patient, and I feel like he understands me.”

  “I remember him from a couple parties Chance and Finn took us to, but I didn’t realize you and TJ were friends.”

  “We weren’t before,” I said, “but I, uh…I got in a bit of trouble last weekend and happened to end up at his shop. He helped me out.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “The kind I shouldn’t talk about with you.”

  Elijah frowned at me. “Normally, you do a good job not treatin’ me like a kid. Just then, you kinda blew it.”

  “It’s not that I think you can’t handle the truth. I just can’t let it get back to Chance and Finn, and asking you to keep a secret would put you in an awkward position.”

  “You’re usin’ drugs, aren’t you?” I tried not to look surprised, but obviously failed because he said, “I knew it.”

  “How?”

  “It’s pretty obvious. You disappear for days at a time and come back lookin’ like hell. In between, you seem distracted and jittery. It’s gotten worse in the last few weeks, which makes me think your habit might be gettin’ the better of you.”

  I sighed and asked, “Does everyone know? Do you guys talk about it when I’m not here?”

  He shook his head. “Nobody’s said anything to me. Chance is worried that you’ve gone back to prostitution, I heard him talkin’ to Finn once when they were out back. He thinks you’re with a client when you vanish. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, just so you know, but my bedroom window faces the patio and I couldn’t help but overhear.” Elijah shifted a bit and adjusted his blanket, then said, “Since Finn’s a cop, I’ll bet he recognizes the signs of drug use like I do, but I don’t know if he’s discussed it with his husband.”