Becoming Sarah

chapter EIGHT


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 left 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.