What Happened to Goodbye(74)
Author: Sarah Dessen

“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.