What Happens to Goodbye(100)

“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure,” she said, putting the glass down. “But the word on the street is she’s been having a lot of closed-door phone conversations that may or may not have included the words relocation and upper management.”
“You really think Opal would just leave like that? She loves this town.”
“Money talks,” she replied with a shrug. A couple of customers passed me, pulling out stools at the bar, and she put down menus in front of them, then said, “Welcome to Luna Blu. Would you like to hear our Death Throes Specials?”
I waved goodbye to her, distracted, then headed toward the kitchen and the back door. As I passed the office, I glanced in: the desk was neatly organized, the chair tucked under it, none of my dad’s signature clutter scattered around the many surfaces. By the looks of it, he, at least, was already gone.

Outside, I walked down the alley, turning onto my street. When my mom had dropped me off earlier, the house had been empty, but now as it came into view I saw some lights were on and the truck was in the driveway.
I was just stepping up onto the curb when I heard a bang. I looked over and there was Dave, coming out of his kitchen door, a cardboard box under one arm. He pulled a black knit hat over his head and started down the stairs, not seeing me. My first impulse was to just get inside, avoiding him and whatever confrontation or conversation would follow. But then I looked up at the sky and immediately spotted a bright triangle of stars, and thought of my mom, standing on the deck of that huge beach house. So much had changed, and yet she still knew those stars, had taken that part of her past, our past, with her. I couldn’t run anymore. I’d learned that. So even though it wasn’t easy, I stayed where I was.
“Dave.”
He turned, startled, and I saw the surprise on his face when he realized it was me. “Hey,” he said. He didn’t come closer, and neither did I: there was a good fifteen or twenty feet between us. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“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.”