What Happens to Goodbye (36 page)

Read What Happens to Goodbye Online

Authors: Sarah Dessen

“Mclean, get yourself some more of those green beans,” Mrs. Benson said, gesturing for Ellis to pass them down. “And it looks like you need another roll, too. Where’s the butter?”
“Right here,” Heather said, picking up the dish and handing it to Mr. Benson, who passed it to Dave. As the conversation rose up again, I watched both it and the bread basket move down the table. Steadily, they went from hand to hand, person to person, like links on a chain, making their way to me.
After dinner, Riley’s mom put us all on dish duty, while Mr. Benson excused himself and went into the living room, where he eased into a big leather recliner with a fresh beer. A moment later, I heard an announcer’s voice and glanced over to see two men in suits shaking hands, a referee between them.
“Look at that,” Mr. Benson called out over his shoulder. “Old Dog Face is only wearing two of his championship rings tonight.”
“Daddy hates Loeb College,” Riley said, adding some soap to the watrunning in the sink. Clearly, there was a routine here, as everyone had fallen into certain places: she had the sponge, with Ellis beside her to rinse, and then me and Deb armed with dish towels. Dave and Heather were the floaters, already opening cabinets to put things away. “
Especially
the Loeb coach.”
“Doesn’t everybody?” Ellis said.
“No,” Heather told him. “You know my dad is a Loeb fan. So stop the trash-talking.”
“Jonah only pulls for Loeb to be contrary,” Mr. Benson called out. “It’s like rooting for Darth Vader. You just don’t do it.”
Riley rolled her eyes, soaping up a plate as Mrs. Benson moved behind us, putting something wrapped in Saran in the fridge. “Mom, go sit down,” she said. “We’ve got this.”
“I’m almost done,” her mom replied.
“She’s never done,” Ellis said to me.
There was a burst of cheering from the TV, and Mr. Benson clapped his hands. “Hell, yeah! Now
that’s
how you start a game!”
“Jack,” Riley’s mom said. “Language.”
“Sorry,” he replied like a reflex.
Ellis handed me a platter, which I dried and passed off to Deb. “You know,” she said, taking it, “I’ve never really understood the whole basketball thing.”
“It’s pretty easy to follow, if you just watch,” Heather said.
“I guess. I’ve never watched a game, though.”
A silence fell. Even the TV went mute. “Never?” Riley asked.
Deb shook her head. “My mom and I aren’t really into sports.”
“Basketball,” Dave said, “is not simply a sport. It’s a religion.”
“Watch it,” Mrs. Benson warned from the pantry, where she was organizing cans.
“Let the boy speak!” her husband called out. I looked over to see him turning in his chair, lifting a finger, and pointing at Deb. “Come over here, sweetheart. I’m about to give you an education.”
“Oh, God,” Riley groaned. “Daddy, please. Don’t.”
“That would be great!” Deb said. Then she looked down at her dish towel. “Let me just—”
“It’s okay,” Heather said, taking it from her. “Just go. It’ll be easier if you let him go ahead and start. God knows how long this might take.”
“You sure? ” Deb asked Riley, who nodded. “Okay. Thanks!”
We all stood there washing and drying in silence as she walked over, taking a seat on the corner of the couch closest to the recliner. The volume on the TV came on again, but we could still hear Mr. Benson begin. “Okay,” he said. “Now, back in 1891, Dr. James Naismith invented—”
“Oh my God,” Riley said. “He’s starting with
Naismith
. College just can’t come fast enough.”
Beside me, Dave laughed. Heather said, “Don’t say that. Next year, we’ll all be eating cafeteria food and wishing we were here.”
“But before that,” Ellis said, “we’ll be eating our way to Texas. Hey, speaking of that, our travel fund just topped a thousand bucks, thanks to Dave’s FrayBake bonus.”
“You got a bonus?” Riley asked him.
“Employee of the month three months running,” he replied, all proud. “That’s a hundred extra dollars to you and me.”
“You guys have a fund?” I asked.
“We’ve been saving since last summer,” Riley explained. “You know, putting in what we can from our jobs and birthdays and Christmas and stuff for gas and hotels and—”
“Food,” Ellis added. “I’m working on plotting a map just of diners from here to Austin. I want eggs Benedict in every state.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said to him.
“You guys need to stop talking about it,” Heather said as she reached up, putting some glasses on a shelf. “At least while I’m here.”
“You might still be able to come,” Riley said to her.
“Unlikely. Unless I make employee of the month for the next, oh, twelve months or so.”
“First,” Ellis said, “you’d have to get a job.”
Heather just looked at him. “I have applications out in several places, I’ll have you know.”
“FrayBake is always hiring,” Dave said cheerfully.
“That place gives me the creeps,” Heather replied. “It’s so fake.”
“The money they pay is real, though.”
Heather sighed, shutting the cabinet. “I’ll pay my dad back. Just probably not in time for the trip.”
“It’s okay,” Riley said, reaching to squeeze her shoulder as she passed by. “We’ll take some trips this summer. The beach and stuff.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“
Yesssssss!
That’s how you do a layup, son!” Mr. Benson yelled. Deb, for her part, clapped politely, her eyes on the screen, while Riley’s mom, who’d settled into a rocking chair by the fire, just shook her head.
“Hurry up and rinse that,” Dave said to Ellis, nodding at the pitcher in his hand. “We’re missing everything.”
“You two are just useless. Get out of here,” Riley told him. With no protest, they scrambled out of the room. She sighed. “I swear. It’s like dealing with children.”
“Oh, yeah!”
Mr. Benson hollered as if to confirm this. “Suck on that, Loeb!”
“Woo-hoo,” Deb added with a bit of a golf clap, as Dave and Ellis plopped down beside her.
“Daddy.”
Riley winced, covering her eyes with one hand, then said to me, “Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you about the whole crazy thing.”
“They’re not crazy,” I told her. She dropped her hand, surprised. “They’re great. Seriously. You’re really lucky.”
“Yeah?” She smiled, then looked back over at her dad, who was pumping his fist in the air.
“Yeah. Thanks for the invite.”
“No problem. Thanks for the help.” She reached into the water, drawing out a soapy bowl, then handed it to me to rinse. As I did, I looked at the window in front of me, where I could see the TV reflected, motion and light as the game moved past on it, the announcer calling every play. It made me think of my mother, suddenly, and I wished in that moment she could see me here, in a real home, with a family, just like she wanted. Maybe it wasn’t ours. But it was still good.
Twelve
“Okay,” Opal said. “Be
totally
honest. Angel Baby or Calm Waters? ”
“What happened to just blue?” Jason asked.
She looked down at the two color swatches she was holding. “I don’t know. It’s too boring, I guess. And they’re both blue.”
“I like this one,” Tracey said, flicking her finger at the lighter color on the right. “It looks like the ocean.”
“So does the other one,” Jason pointed out. “I honestly can’t tell the difference.”
“The other one has higher hues, more white in it. This one”—Tracey picked up the swatch on the left, flipping it over—“Angel Baby, has darker notes going to lighter, but it’s more of a mix.”
Opal and Jason just looked at her as she turned the swatch back over, sliding it back in place. “What?” she said. “I’m into art, okay?”
“Clearly,” Jason said. “That was impressive.”
“So we’ve got one vote for Angel Baby, and one no opinion. Maybe I should go back to the yellows.” Opal sighed, picking up a stack of swatches and flipping through them, then looked up and saw me. “Hey! Mclean! Come tell me what you think.”
I walked over to the bar, dropping my backpack onto a chair. “About what?”
“Colors for the new-and-improved upstairs alfresco dining area,” she said.
“You’re going to reopen the second floor?” I asked.
“Well, not right now. I mean, there’s the model, and we still have to get the restaurant on a better footing.” She laid out the two swatches. “But now that Chuckles has spared us, he might be open to some ideas for expanding and improvement. He’s supposed to come in tonight, passing through town, so I’d thought I’d just plant the idea in his head.”
“I do not like the idea of having to go up and down stairs to my tables,” Tracey said.
“And there’s the question of keeping food warm during the trip,” Jason added.
“Where is your sense of adventure? Of change? This could be really, really good for the restaurant. A return to its past glory days!” Opal said. They just looked at her, and She laghed, flipping her hand, then turned her attention to me. “Okay. Mclean. Pick one.”
I looked down at the colors. Two blues, different and yet so similar. I couldn’t see notes of white, or various shading, and didn’t know the language Tracey used to describe the most subtle of nuances. These days, though, I was sure of one thing: I knew what I liked.
“This one,” I said, putting my finger on the one on the right. “It’s perfect.”
 
It was now March, and my dad and I had been in Lakeview for almost two months. Anywhere else, those eight weeks would have followed a routine pattern. Get moved in, get settled, pick a name and a girl. Unpack our few, necessary things, arranging them in the same way as the last place, and the next place. Start school while my dad got a line on whether his restaurant had slimy lettuce or great guacamole, and plan my own moves in terms of joining clubs and making friends accordingly. Then, all that was left was following the signs so I’d know when to pull back, cut for good, and get ready to run.
Here, though, it was different. We’d come in the same way, but since then everything had changed, from me using my real name to my dad starting to date even with no next move in sight. Add in the fact that I was actually on decent terms with my mom, and this was officially an entirely new ball game.

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