What Happens to Goodbye(60)

“To do what?”

He sighed, putting down his coffee cup. “Wave a magic wand. Poach the staff of the best restaurant in town. Consider other career options. That kind of thing.”
I opened the pantry door, reaching inside to pull out the cereal. “Well, at least you’re thinking positively.”
“Always.”
I was getting out the milk when I suddenly remembered the call I’d answered the night before. “Hey, did you leave the restaurant last night?”
“Only at about one to come back here,” he replied. “Why?”
“That councilwoman, Lindsay Baker,” I said. “When she called and left that message, she said they’d just told her you were gone.”
He sighed, then reached up to rub a hand over his face. “Okay, don’t judge me,” he said. “But I might have told them to tell her I wasn’t there.”
“Really?” I asked.
He grimaced.
“Why?”
“Because she keeps calling wanting to discuss this model thing, and I don’t have the time or energy right now.”
“She did say she’s been trying to reach you for a while.”
He grunted, taking one last sip off his mug and setting it in the sink. “Who calls a restaurant in the middle of dinner rush, wanting to make a lunch date? It’s ludicrous.”
“She wants a date?”
“I don’t know what she wants. I just know I don’t have time to do it, whatever it is.” He picked up his cell phone, glancing at the screen before shutting it and sliding it in his pocket. “I gotta get over there and get some stuff done before Chuckles shows up. You’ll be okay getting to school? Think they’ll cancel?”
“Doubt it,” I said. “This isn’t Georgia or Florida. But I’ll keep you posted.”
“Do that.” He squeezed my shoulder as I reached into the fridge for the milk. “Have a good day.”
“You, too. Good luck.”
He nodded, then headed for the front door. I watched him pull on his jacket, which was neither very warm nor waterproof, before going out onto the porch. Not for the first time, I thought of the next year, and what it would be like for him to be living in another rental house, in another town, without me. Who would organize his details so he could be immersed in someone else’s? Iidth it wasn’t my responsibility to take care of my dad, that he didn’t ask for or expect it. But he’d already been left behind one time. I hated that I’d be the person to make it twice.
Just then, my phone rang. Speak of the devil, I thought, as HAMILTON, PETER popped up on the screen. I was moving to hit the IGNORE button when I looked at the clock. I had fifteen minutes before I had to leave for the bus. If I got this over with now, it might buy me a whole day of peace, or at least a few hours. I sucked it up and answered.
“Hi, honey!” my mom said, her voice too loud in my ear. “Good morning! Did you get any snow there?”
“A little,” I said, looking out at the flakes still falling. “How about you?”
“Oh, we’ve already got three inches and it’s still coming down hard. The twins and I have been out in it. They look so cute in their snowsuits! I e-mailed you a few pictures.”
“Great,” I said. Thirty seconds down, another, oh, two hundred and seventy or so to go before I could get off the phone without it seeming entirely rude.
“I just want to say again how much I enjoyed seeing you last weekend,” she said. She cleared her throat. “It was just wonderful to be together. Although at the same time, it made me realize how much I’ve missed of your life these last couple of years. Your friends, activities . . .”
I closed my eyes. “You haven’t missed that much.”
“I think I have.” She sniffed. “Anyway, I’m thinking that I’d really like to come visit again sometime soon. It’s such a quick trip, there’s no reason why we can’t see each other more often. Or, you could come here. In fact, this weekend we’re hosting the team and the boosters for a big barbecue here at the house. I know Peter would love it if you could be here.”
Shit, I thought. This was just what I’d been worried about by agreeing to go to the game. One inch, then a foot, then a mile. The next thing I knew, we’d be back in the lawyers’ offices. “I’m really busy with school right now,” I said.
“Well, this would be the weekend,” she replied. Push, push. “You could bring your schoolwork, do it here.”
“It’s not that easy. I have stuff I have to be here for.”
“Well, okay.” Another sniff. “Then how about next weekend? We’re taking our first trip down to the beach house. We could pick you up on the way, and then—”
“I can’t do next weekend either,” I said. “I think I just need to stay here for a while.”
Silence. Outside, the snow was still falling, so clean and white, covering everything. “Fine,” she said, but her tone made it clear this was anything but. “If you don’t want to see me, you don’t want to see me. I can’t do anything about that, now can I?”

No, I thought, you can’t. Life would have been so much easier if I could do that, just agree with this statement, plant us both firmly on the same page, and be done with it. But it was never that simple. Instead, there was all this dodging and running, intricate steps and plays required to keep the ball in the air. “Mom,” I said. “Just—”
“Leave you alone,” she finished for me, her voice curt. “Never call, never e-mail, don’t even try to keep in touch with my firstborn child. Is that what you want, Mclean?”