What Happened to Goodbye(77)
Author: Sarah Dessen

I’d been dreading the trip for any number of reasons, but especially due to the fact that I’d be stuck with my mom for four straight hours of driving with no escape from conversation. She surprised me, though, by being as content as I was with long periods of silence. I started to get self-conscious about it, after a while.

“I’m sorry I’m not talking much,” I told her when we were about an hour and a half away. “I think I’m just really tired.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she said. “To be honest, I’m exhausted myself. And with these two, I don’t get a lot of quiet. This is . . .” She glanced over at me. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” I said as my phone buzzed again. I pulled it out, ignoring the screen, and turned it fully off before sliding it back into my pocket. “It is.”

It was just getting dark when we drove over the bridge to Colby, the sound spread out vast and dark beneath us. By then, the twins were up and crabby, and we’d had to put on Elmo doing covers of Beatles songs—a torture that was a first to me—in order to keep them from totally mutinying.

“Mclean,” my mom said, reaching behind her to pull up the diaper bag, which was huge and overflowing with wipes, Huggies, and various other supplies, “would you mind finding them a snack in here? We’ll be there in ten minutes or so, but food might hold off a full-on nuclear meltdown.”

“Sure,” I said, digging around until I found a bag packed with the familiar little fish-shaped crackers. I opened it up, then turned around in my seat to face the twins. “You guys hungry?”

“Fish!” Connor yelled, pointing at the bag.

“That’s right,” I said, taking out a few and handing them to him. Madison, who was sucking on a Sippy Cup, stuck out her hand, as well, and I gave her an equal portion. “Dinner of champions.”

My mom put on her turn signal, taking a left onto the road that stretched down the center of the town proper. I didn’t remember much about Colby itself, other than that the last time I’d been here it had seemed newer than North Reddemane, full of partially built houses, building permits everywhere. Now, years later, it looked much more established, with all the things you’d expect to find in a typical beach town: surf shops, clothing stores, hotels, and bike-rental places. As we drove past the boardwalk and kept going, the lots and houses got bigger, then bigger still, switching from duplexes and boxy weekend places to vast structures painted bright colors, swimming pools stretched out in front of them. The twins were whining in tandem, Elmo singing, “Baby, you can drive my car,” in full-on pip-squeak mode, when my mom turned into a driveway, pulled up to the wide front steps of a foamgreen house, and parked.

“Here we are!” she said, looking back at the twins. “See? It’s the beach house.”

I saw. In fact, I was pretty sure my mouth was hanging open. “Mom,” I said as she pulled out her keys from the ignition, pushing the door open. “Wow.”

“It’s not as big as it looks,” she said, getting out. Behind me, Madison let out a wail, competing with Elmo in pitch. “I swear.”

I just sat there, staring up at this huge, green mansion rising in front of me. There were columns, three stories, a lowerlevel garage, and, visible="3"“rough the high glass windows over the front door, a vast ocean view, stretching as far as you could see.

“Mama, I’m hungry,” Connor whined, as my mom unbuckled his car seat. “I want mac and cheese!”

“Mac and cheese! ” Madison seconded, waving her Sippy Cup.

“Okay, okay,” my mom told them. “Just let us get inside.”

She hitched Connor onto her hip, then came around to the other side of the car, taking out Maddie, as well, and planting her on the other side. After strapping on both the diaper bag and her purse, she started up the front steps, looking like a Sherpa scaling Everest.

“Mom,” I said, getting out of the car and catching up with her. “Please. Let me get something, at least.”

“Oh, honey, that would be great,” she said over one shoulder. I reached out to take the diaper bag and purse, only to find myself suddenly holding Maddie, who latched her arms around my neck, her chubby legs tightening at my waist. She smelled like wipes and baby sweat, and promptly dropped a damp goldfish down my shirt. “Now, let me just find my keys . . . here. Okay! We’re in.”

She bumped the door open wider with her hip, then went inside, reaching to hit a light switch as I followed her. Immediately, the entryway brightened, displaying deep yellow walls lined with beach-themed framed drawings.

“So this is the kitchen and living room,” my mom was saying as we headed up the nearby stairs, Connor hanging off her hip, Maddie clutching me with one hand, the other in her mouth. “The master suite is over there, and the rest of the bedrooms are on the second and third floors.”

“There are four floors?”

“Um,” she said, glancing back at me as she hit another switch, illuminating a wide, open kitchen. A stainless Sub-Zero fridge, bigger and much newer than the one at Luna Blu, sat at one end. “Well, actually, there are five. If you count the game-room level. But that was just unfinished attic space, really.”

There was a trilling noise, a melody I recognized but couldn’t place. My mom, Connor still in her arms, reached into her purse, pulling out her phone. I said, “Is that—”

“The Defriese fight song,” she finished for me. “Peter put it on there for me. I used to have ABBA, but he insisted.”

I didn’t say anything, just stared out the row of huge windows at the ocean. My mom put the phone to her ear, then leaned down, releasing Connor, who immediately ran over to the fridge, banging his hands on it. I tried to do the same with Maddie, but she held on tighter, if that was possible.

“Hello? Oh, hi, honey. Yes, we just got here. It was fine.” My mom looked at Connor, as if weighing whether to try to corral him. In seconds, it was a moot point, as he was taking off across the room at full speed. “We’re about to unpack a bit and go up to the Last Chance. Did you get dinner? Good.”

I walked over to the nearest window, Maddie twirling a piece of my hair, and looked out at the deck. Down below, I could see the pool, part of it exposed, the other tucked beneath an overhang.

“I’ll call you as soon as we’re back here,” my mom continued, digging around in her prse. “I know. Me, too. It’s not the same without you. Okay, love you. Goodbye.”