What Happens to Goodbye(101)

“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.”
“Well,” my dad said.
“Hate is an awfully strong word,” Opal replied.
I looked at him, then at her, then at him again. “You can’t do this. It’s insane.”
“Well,” Opal said, clearing her throat. “That’s also a strong word.”
“You don’t want to do this,” I told her. “He’s leaving. You know that, right? For Hawaii.”
“Mclean,” my dad said.
“No,” I told him. “It was one thing when it was Lindsay, or Sherry in Petree, or Lisa in Montford Falls, or Emily in Westcott.” Opal raised her eyebrows, looking at my dad, who moved the pillow again. “But I like you, Opal. You’ve been nice to me. And you should know what’s going to happen. He’s just going to disappear, and you’ll be here, calling and wondering why he doesn’t call back, and—”
“Mclean,” my dad repeated. “Stop.”
“No,” I said. “You stop. Don’t do this.”
“I’m not,” he replied.
I just stood there, not sure what to say. I could see Opal out of the corner of my eye, watching me carefully, but I kept my eyes on my dad. At least, for a moment. Then, I shifted my gaze, suddenly noticing the kitchen behind him. There were grocery bags piled on the countertops, and a couple of cabinets were open, revealing cans and a few boxes of food inside. Some noodles and a couple of tomatoes sat piled by a cutting board, and there was a new glass pan, sitting rinsed on the dish rack, waiting to be used.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, turning my gaze back to him.
He smiled at me, then looked at Opal. “Come sit down,” he said. “We’ll fill you in.”
Seventeen





“Oh, no,” Deb said. “What happened to my STOW sheet? Has anyone seen it?”


“Nope,” Heather, who was bent over a corner of the model, sticking on bushes in a local arboretum, replied. “Maybe you lost it.”
“Heather, stop,” Riley told her. “Deb, it’s got to be around here someplac. Where was the last place you had it?”
“If I knew that, it wouldn’t be lost,” Deb said, walking to the table and pushing some papers around. “This is crazy! I can’t finish this tonight without the STOW!”
“Uh-oh,” Ellis, on the other side of the model, said. “Get ready for a FODF.”
I looked up from where I was adding some sidewalk tiles. “FODF? ”
“Full-On Deb Freak-out,” Heather explained.
“I heard that!” Deb called out. “And FYI, that is not even a good acronym. It’s supposed to be a real word, not a made-up one.”