What Happened to Goodbye(87)
Author: Sarah Dessen

“I just got in a little while ago.”

“Oh.” He shifted the box to his other arm. “I was just, um, heading over to the model for a few minutes.”

I took a couple of steps toward him, hesitant. “So you got a furlough.”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

I looked down at my hands, taking a breath. “Look, about that night I called you … I had no idea you got in trouble. God, I feel awful about that.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said.

I just looked at him. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been trying to sneak out.”

“Trying to—” he said.

“And you wouldn’t have been caught sneaking out,” I continued, “and then grounded, and your trip taken away, and basically your whole life wrecked.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You didn’t wreck my life. All you did was call a friend.”

“Maybe I can talk to your parents. Explain what was going on, and—”

“Mclean,” he said, stopping me. “No. It’s okay, really. I’m all right with it. There will be other road trips, and other summers.”

“Maybe. But it’s still not fair.”

He shrugged. “Life’s not fair. If it was, you wouldn’t be having to move again.”

“You heard about that, huh?”

“I heard Tasmania,” he said. “Which I have a feeling might be bad information.”

I smiled. “It’s Hawaii. But I’m not going. I’m moving back in with my mom, to finish out the year.”

“Oh,” he said. “Right. I guess that does make more sense.”

“As much as any of this does.” Another silence fell. He didn’t have much time, and I knew I should let him go. Instead, I said, “The model looks great. You guys have really been working hard.”

“Deb has,” he replied. “She’s like a madwoman. I’m just trying to stay out of her way.”

I smiled. “She told me about your debate over the people.”

“The people.” He groaned. “She cannot trust me to handle this myself. That’s why I’m sneaking over there with my supplies when I know she’s gone. Otherwise, she’ll stand over me, freaking out.”

“Supplies?” I said.

He stepped a little closer, holding out the open box so I could see it. “No cracks about model trains,” he said. “This is serious business.”

I peered inside. The box was lined with small jars of paint, all different colors, a stack of brushes standing in one side. There were also cotton balls, some swabs, turpentine, and several small tools, including a large set of tweezers, some scissors, and a magnifying glass.

“Whoa,” I said. “What are you planning to do, exactly?”

“Just add a little life to it,” he replied. I looked up at him, biting my lip. “Don’t worry, she approved it. Most of it anyway.”

I smiled. “I can’t believe the model’s actually almost finished. It feels like we just put down that first house, like, yesterday.”

“Time flies.” He looked at me. “So when do you leave?”

“I start moving stuff next weekend.”

“That soon?” I nodded. “Wow. You don’t mess around.”

“I just feel like if I have to go to another school …” I sighed. “I might as well do it now.”

He nodded, not saying anything. Another car drove by.

“But I have to say,” I continued, “that it stinks that when it came down to it, there were only two choices. Go forward, to Hawaii, and start all over again, or backward, back to my old life, which doesn’t even really exist anymore.”

“You need a third option,” he said.

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

He nodded, absorbing this. “Well,” he said, “for what it’s worth, it’s been my experience that they don’t appear at first. You kind of have to look a little more closely.”

“And when does that happen?”

He shrugged. “When you’re ready to see them, I guess.”

I had a flash of those Rubbermaid bins, lined up in my mom’s garage at the beach behind Super Shitty. “That is frustratingly vague,” I told him.

“You’re welcome.”

I smiled then, and he smiled back. “You should go,” I said. “Before Deb decides to make an evening visit because she can’t sleep due to obsessing over the model.”

“You joke,” he said. “But it could happen. I’ll see you, Mclean.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “See you.”

He started to turn away, toward the road again. But just as he did, I moved forward, closing the space between us, and kissed him on the cheek. I could tell I surprised him, but he didn’t pull away. When I stepped back, I said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here,” I said.

He nodded, then walked past me, using his free hand to squeeze my shoulder as he passed. I turned, watching him as he crossed the street and headed up the alley to the bright lights of Luna Blu. Then I turned back to my own house, took a breath, and went up to the door.

I was just reaching for the knob when two things became clear: my dad was definitely home, and he wasn’t alone. I could hear his voice, muffled, from inside, then a higher voice responding. But the lights that were on were dim, and as I stood there, I noticed that their conversation began to have short lags in it, little silences that became gradually longer and longer, peppered with only a few words or laughter in between.

Oh, God, I thought, slumping against the door and losing all momentum as I pictured him lip-locked with Lindsay and her big white teeth. Ugh.

I stood up straighter, then knocked on the door, hard, before pushing it open. What I saw before me literally stopped me in my tracks: my dad and Opal on the couch, his arm around her shoulders, her feet draped across his lap. They were both flushed pink, and the top button of her shirt was undone.

“Oh my God,” I said, my voice sounding incredibly loud in the small room.

Opal jumped up, reaching to do her button as she stumbled backward, bumping the wall behind her. On the couch, my dad cleared his throat and adjusted a throw pillow, like decorating was the most important thing at that moment. “Mclean,” he said. “When did you get back?”

“I thought … I thought you were dating the councilwoman,” I said to him. Then I looked at Opal, who was tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, crazy flustered. “I thought you hated him.”