What Happens to Goodbye(28)

The nurse glanced at her, as if just now noticing she was there, even though Opal—in faded jeans, red cowboy boots, and a bright orange sweater—was hard to miss. “I can direct you to the proper department for handling that,” she said coolly.
“Thanks so much,” Opal replied, equally polite.
Deb, just inside the curtain, looked at Opal, then the nurse, then back at Opal again. But my dad was oblivious as always as he handed back the clipboard, hopping down off the bed. “All right,” he said. “Let’s blow this taco stand.”
“Mr. Sweet!” the nurse said. “We still have a few more forms to fill out. You’ll need to—”
“What I need,” my dad replied, grabbing his coat from where it was lying across the pillow, “is to get back to my kitchen before the whole place collapses. Like Opal said, forward the bill to EAT INC. You’ve got the info, right?”
Opal nodded, pulling a card out of the bag at her feet. “Sure do.”
“Perfect. Then pass it on, and let’s go.” Opal handed the card to the nurse, who looked less than enthused to be taking it. Again, my dad didn’t notice as he shrugged on his coat, then looked at me. “You need to go back to school, correct?”
I glanced at my watch. “By the time I get there, it’ll practically be time for final bell.”
He sighed, clearly not happy about this. “Home, then. We’ll drop you on the way back to the restaurant.”
“Oh, I can drive her,” Deb offered. When my dad glanced at her, she smiled, as if she might need his approval to actually do this. “I mean, it’s no problem at all.”
“Great. Let’s go,” he said, pushing the curtain aside. He was out and down the hallway before any of us even got close to following.
Everyone looked at me, but I just shrugged. This was my dad as dictator, the side of his personality that came out during the busiest rushes and whenever we were moving. He wasn’t always a bossy person, but under certain circumstances he behaved like a general on the battlefield, whether he had willing troops or not.
The nurse tort c a couple of sheets of paper, handing one to Opal, who took it and headed out the way my dad had gone. The other she handed to me, along with my dad’s card, seeming to take quite a while to complete the exchange.
“If your dad has any problems with that wound,” she said as she finally let go of it, “my direct line is on the release notes. I’m Sandy.”
“Right,” I said. I could feel Deb’s shock from behind me, like heat coming off of her. Sure enough, when I turned she was staring, openmouthed. “Thanks.”
I walked out into the hallway, and she rushed out behind me, still aghast. “Oh my God!” she hissed as we passed by the man in the undershirt, who was now sitting up, a doctor leaning over him. “That was so inappropriate!”
“It happens,” I replied, spotting my dad and Opal just outside the front entrance. “Mclean? ” he called out, impatient. “Let’s go.”

Deb immediately picked up her pace, following orders like a good soldier. As I fell in behind her, I glanced down at the discharge papers, with Sandy’s loopy script spelling out her name and number in red pen. It seemed like a correction, something marked right that was wrong, and I folded it over, stuffing it deep in my pocket as I stepped through the doors to leave this place, too, behind me.
Five
The noise was oddly familiar, but at first I couldn’t place it.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Clank.
I opened my eyes, blinked, and then looked at the slope in the ceiling, following it to the edge of the molding where it hit the window. Beyond that, there was only clear glass, some sky, and the dilapidated roof of the house where Dave had taken over the cellar. It was so big, though, that I wasn’t sure it was a residence at all. More likely, I’d decided, it was a business, long shuttered: the windows were boarded up, weeds growing up all around it. I’d seen a FOR SALE sign that looked equally ancient on its other side when I was walking to the bus stop. Now, though, from this weird angle, I noticed something else: a few letters painted on the roof, once red, now faded to the lightest of pinks. I couldn’t make them all out, but the first looked like it might be an S.
Thump. Thump. Swish.
I sat up, glancing out the window beside me. My dad’s truck was already gone. It was only 9:00 a.m. after a blistering Friday rush he’d worked pretty much one-handed, but the farmers’ market was on Saturday mornings, and he always liked to get there early to have the best pickings of what was on offer.
Thump. Thump. Laughter. And then a crash.
I felt the house shake slightly, and then everything was still again. I sat there for a moment, waiting for what, I had no idea, before finally sliding my feet onto the floor and grabbing my jeans from the nearby chair, where I’d tossed them late the night before. Outside, it was quiet now, my footsteps all I could hear as I made my way down the hallway.
As I first stepped into the kitchen, I thought I was still asleep and dreaming when I saw the basketball rolling toward me. Behind it, the door to the deck was open,uld air blowing in, and I just stood there and watched as the ball came closer, then closer still, slowing with each turn. So weird, I thought. I was sure I’d been awake, seen the truck gone, but—
“Whoops! Sorry about that.”
I jumped, startled, then looked up to see a guy standing on the porch, just past the open doorway. He was about my age, with short, tight dreads springing up from his head in all directions, wearing jeans and a red long-sleeved T-shirt. His face was familiar, but I was still too asleep to figure out why.