The Trouble With Before by Portia Moore Page A

realizes how fragile Lisa is and how she connects to people we both love. At that moment, I feel connected to Hillary. Even if she doesn’t know all the pieces of this puzzle she knows enough to get that this situation isn’t simple and I have to tread lightly. It also makes me realize that Lauren hasn’t shared the little quest that she and Ms. Red sent me on.
    “I thought I had. Still . . .” I try to think of what to say to finish my sentence.
    Still what? I still am in the middle of what can be a catastrophe. Lisa is back here in Madison, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. As much as I condemned her for leaving everyone else knee-deep in her shit, at this moment, I realize how her leaving made things so much easier on everyone. Well, easier isn’t the word. More like less complicated. Now that she’s back, the comfort zones everyone’s crafted seem less clear.
    “Everything is going to be fine.” She takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly.
    I can tell she’s trying to be the calm, thoughtful, level-headed girlfriend she thinks I need and not the fly-off-the-handle on-and-off ex that we usually are to each other.
    “Is Grams not home?”
    I turn around to see Lisa dressed in the clothing Hillary gave her. Her face seems a lot calmer, though I can tell her nerves are on edge from the way she keeps rubbing her thigh.
    “No, she’s at her boyfriend’s.” I clear my throat in the awkward silence.
    “Hi, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Lauren’s best friend,” Hillary says, extending her hand.
    Lisa takes it with a small smile. “Yeah, I remember you.”
    I look between them and realize how similar they are. They’re the same height, they weigh about the same, their hair is the same length since Lisa has grown hers out, and they would even have the same hair color if Hillary didn’t have so many streaks through hers.
    “I’m sorry about earlier.” Hillary laughs, and Lisa does the same.
    “No worries, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Lisa says, glancing at her feet.
    “No, you weren’t intruding. Actually I’m really tired and am going to head back to bed,” Hillary says, faking a stretch and yawn. “It was nice seeing you again.”
    Hillary makes her exit, and I let out a deep breath and fold my arms.
    “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here,” Lisa says quietly.
    She looks at me as if she’s trying to study my face when I’m the one who needs a class on hers. Earlier I could tell she was crying, and she looked like a wet puppy. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Now I’m just confused.
    “I get it.” She nods as if she knows what I’m thinking, which is impossible because I don’t even know what I’m thinking. “I-I just . . . I know that you practically hate me and think I’m the most stupid, selfish person alive, which shows you exactly how pathetic I am since you’re still the one person I hoped wouldn’t slam the door in my face.” Two tears are sliding down her cheeks, and I can tell it’s taking everything in her to not let any more come out. “I am really, really screwed.”
    She sits on the couch, puts her face in her hands, and quietly cries. I scratch my head. This girl sitting in front of me is so different from the girl I used to know. That girl would rather die than let you see her cry. Regardless if she was wrong or not, she would keep a poker face that could win her money in Vegas.
    My thoughts immediately go to Chris. He’s the friend who’d be better at handling this. He’s the listener, the comforter. I don’t know what the hell to say to her. Her life is pretty screwed up right now. I guess the first step is admitting it, right? Or shit, is that just for alcoholics or drug addicts? I try to imagine what I’d do if I were Chris—well, before Chris hated her for sleeping with his dad. I stay quiet and sit beside her on the couch, listening to her quiet whimpers, then I pull her toward me so that she can cry on