What Happens to Goodbye (39 page)

Read What Happens to Goodbye Online

Authors: Sarah Dessen

I turned around, looking at my purse, which was on the floor by the couch. Sure enough, I could see a light flashing inside. I pulled out my phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, honey,” she said over the din behind her. “I just had a quick thought about our trip tomorrow. Have you got a second? ”
Dave and his dad erupted in cheers, plates clanging in their laps as the U stole the ball and moved down the court. Where my mom was, there was noticeably less of a reaction.
“Actually,” I said, “I, um, have some people over for dinner.”
“You do?” She sounded so surprised. “Oh. Well, I’ll just call back later, okay?”
“Great,” I said, watching Dave as he took another bite of toast, then smiled at me. Real bread, real butter. All real. “Talk to you then.”
Thirteen
That night, I tried to wait up for my dad, so I could ask him about the councilwoman and what I’d seen between them at the model that day, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. Still, I busied myself packing and repacking my suitcase for the beach, trying not to think abt all the other times I’d folded clothes this same way, in the same bag. Once that was done, I made myself a pot of coffee and sat down on the couch to study for my last big test before break, feeling confident that the task and the caffeine would keep me awake until he returned. Instead, I woke up at 6:00 the next morning, the room cold and my mother’s quilt tucked over me.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. My dad’s keys were in the dish by the door, his coat thrown over our worn leather chair. Distantly, down the hallway, I could hear the water running in his bathroom. Just another morning. I hoped.
I took a shower, then got dressed before making a bowl of cereal and another pot of coffee. I was pouring a second cup when I heard a knock at the door. Glancing out the front window, I saw a black Town Car parked at the curb. Which could mean only one thing. Sure enough, when I opened it, I found myself facing a wide expanse of gray cashmere. I looked up and up, and there was Chuckles. Opal had mentioned he was back in town, but a home visit was a surprise.
“Mclean,” he said, smiling at me. “Good morning. Your dad around? ”
“He’s in the shower,” I told him, stepping back so he could come in. He had to duck under the low door frame, but something in the easy way he did it made it clear he was used to this. “He should be out in a minute. You want some coffee?”
“No thanks, I’m already covered,” he said, holding up a travel mug in one of his huge hands. “This stuff has totally spoiled me. I have to take it with me when I travel now. Nothing else compares.”
“Really? What is it?”
“A special blend, grown and roasted in Kona, Hawaii. I’ve been doing some business there lately and discovered it.” He uncapped the lid, holding it out to me. “Take a whiff.”
I did, although it felt a little odd to do so. It smelled amazing. “Wow,” I said. “Hawaii, huh?”
“You ever been?”
I shook my head. “I’d love to, though.”
“Really,” he said, watching me as I folded the quilt, putting it back on the arm of the couch. “Well, that’s good to know.”
I glanced up, wondering at this, but then my dad was coming down the hallway, hair damp, pulling a sweatshirt over his head. “Isn’t it a little early for door-to-door salesmen?” he asked.
“Trust me,” Chuckles told him, capping his coffee and taking a sip, “you
want
what I’m peddling.”
“You always say that.” My dad picked up his keys and phone. “You on your way out of town?”
“Yep. Just wanted to stop by to bug you one more time.” He smiled at me. “I was just telling your daughter about how good this Kona coffee is.”
“Let’s talk outside,” my dad said, pulling on his jacket. “Mclean, I’ll just be a sec.”
“Good to see you,” Chuckles called out as he ducked back through the door, onto the porch. “And aloha. That means hello
and
goodbye in Hawaii. Remember that, okay? It’s useful information.”
“Okay,” I replied a bit uncertainly. “Aloha.”
My dad shot him a look, and then the door was shutting behind them. I watched them go down the walk, their contrasting heights the oddest of pairings. Just as they got into the back of the black Town Car idling at the curb, my phone rang.
I pulled it out, then flipped it open, my eyes still on the car. “Morning, Mom,” I said.
“Good morning!” she said. “Are you in a rush? Or can you talk for sec?”
“I can talk.”
“Great! Today’s going to be nuts, getting packed and driving down, so I wanted to just confirm our times and everything before the madness starts.” She laughed. “So are we still on for four, do you think?”
“It should be fine,” I told her. “I’ll be back here by three forty-five at the latest, and I’m already all packed.”
“Don’t forget your bathing suit,” she said. “Our maintenance guy called yesterday and it’s official. The pool and hot tub are both up and running.”
“Oh, God,” I said, glancing down the hall at my bag, sitting by the bed. “I totally forgot about that. I’m not even sure I have a suit anymore.”
“We can pick one up for you,” she replied. “Actually, there’s this really cute boutique on the boardwalk in Colby that my friend Heidi owns. We’ll stop in there if we get in before they close.” There was a loud wail in the background. “Oh, dear. Connor just dumped a bowl of Cheerios on Madison. I’d better go. I’ll see you at four?”
“Yeah,” I said. “See you then.”
Her phone went down with a clatter—she always had to get off the phone in a hurry, it seemed—and I hung up mine, sliding it back in my pocket. I turned around just in time to see my dad coming back in, Chuckles’s car pulling away in the window behind him.
“So,” I said as the door swung shut, “I hope this is a good time to let you know I’m going to be needing a new bathing suit.”
He stopped where he was, his face tightening. “Oh, for God’s sake. He told you? I asked him
specifically
not to. I swear he’s never been able to keep his mouth shut about anything.”
I just looked at him, confused. “Who are you talking about? ”
“Chuckles,” he said, annoyed. Then he looked at me. “The Hawaii job? He told you. Right?”
Slowly, I shook my head. “I was talking about the trip today. Mom has a pool.”
He exhaled, then ran a hand over his face. “Oh,” he said softly.
We just stood there for a moment, both of us still. Coffee, Kona, aloha, not to mention Luna Blu’s apparent reprieve and his date with the councilwoman: it suddenly all made sense. “We’re going to Hawaii?” I asked finally. “When?”
“Nothing’s official yet,” he replied, moving over to the couch and sitting down. “It’s a crazy offer anyway. This restaurant that’s not even open yet and already a total mess . . . I’d be insane to agree to it.”
“When?” I said again.
He swallowed, tilting his head back and studying the ceiling. “Five weeks. Give or take a few days.”
Immediately, I thought of my mother, how I’d averted the custody issue with my promises of this trip and weekends, not to mention how things had improved between us since. Hawaii might as well have been another world.
“You wouldn’t have to go,” my dad said now, looking at me.
“I’d stay here?”
His brow furrowed. “Well . . . no. I was thinking you could go back home to your mom’s. Finish the year and graduate there, with your friends.”
Home.
As he said this word, nothing came to mind. Not an image, or a place. “So those are the options?” I said. “Mom’s or Hawaii?”
“Mclean.” He cleared his throat. “I told you, nothing is decided yet.”
It was so weird. Just then, suddenly and totally unexpectedly, I was certain I was going to cry. And not just cry, but cry those hot, mad tears that sting your throat and burn your eyes, the kind you only do in private when you know no one can see or hear you, not even the person that caused them. Especially them.
“So this is why you’ve been with the councilwoman,” I said slowly.
“We’ve just been on a couple of dates. That’s all.”
“Does she know about Hawaii?”
He blinked, then glanced at me. “Nothing to know. I told you, no plans have been made.”
“Except for the meat order going from monthly to weekly,” I said. He raised his eyebrows. “Doesn’t bode well for the restaurant. Means you’re either running out of money, or time. Or both.”
He sat back, shaking his head. “You don’t miss much, do you? ”
“Just repeating what you told me back in Petree,” I said. “Or Montford Falls.”
“Petree,” he replied. “In Montford, they had time and money. That’s why they made it.”
“And Luna Blu won’t,” I said slowly.
“Probably not.” He rubbed a hand over his face, then dropped it, looking at me. “I’m serious about what I said, though. You can’t just pick up and move halfway across the world so close to finishing school. Your mother wouldn’t stand for it.”
“It’s not her choice, though.”
“Why don’t you want to go home?” he asked.
“Because it’s not home anymore,” I said. “It hasn’t been for three years. And yeah, Mom and I are getting along better, but that doesn’t mean I want to live with her.”
My dad rubbed his hand over his face, the sure sign that he was tired and frustrated. “I need to get to the restaurant,” he said, starting out of the room. “Just think about this, okay? We can discuss it further tonight.”
“Mom’s picking me up for the beach at four,” I said.
“Then when you get back. Nothing has to be decided right now.” iv width="1em" align="left">
He got to his feet, then turned to start down the hallway. I said, “I can’t go back there. You don’t understand. I’m not . . .”
He stopped, then looked back at me, waiting for me to finish this sentence, and I realized I couldn’t. In my head, it went off in a million directions—
I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not sure who I am—
each of them only leading to more complications and explanations.
My dad’s phone, sitting on the table, suddenly rang. But he didn’t answer, instead kept looking at me. “Not what?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said, nodding at his phone. “Never mind.”
“Stay right there. I want to keep talking about this,” he said as he picked it up, flipping it open. “Gus Sweet. Yeah, hi. No, I’m on my way. . . .”
I watched him as he turned, still talking, and went down the hallway into his bedroom. As soon as he was out of sight, I grabbed my backpack and bolted.
The air was sharp, clear, and I felt it fill my lungs like water as I sucked in a breath and started around the house to my shortcut to the bus stop. The grass was wet under my feet, my cheeks stinging as I pushed myself forward through the yard and into that of the building behind us.
Dusted with frost, it looked even more bereft than usual, and when I got to its side yard, the bus stop in sight ahead, I stopped, then bent down, putting my hands on my legs, and tried to catch my breath and swallow back my tears. I could feel the cold all around me: seeping through my shoes, in the air, moving through and around this empty, abandoned place beside me. I turned, taking a breath, and looked over, seeing my reflection in one of the remaining windows. My face was wild, lost, and for a second I didn’t recognize myself. Like the house was looking at me, and I was a stranger. No home, no control, and no idea where I was, only where I might be going.

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