What Happens to Goodbye(93)

I stepped back from the door, surprised at the sudden, stabbing hurt that rose up in my chest, flushing my face. Oh my God, I thought. Through all the moves, and all the distance, there had been one constant: my mom wanted me with her. For better or worse—and mostly worse—I never doubted that for a second. But what if I’d been wrong? What if this new life was just that, brand-new, like this gorgeous house, and she wanted to keep it fresh, no baggage? Katie Sweet had to deal with a moody, distant firstborn child. But Katherine Hamilton didn’t.
I turned, walking down that wide hallway, toward a foreign staircase in a house I didn’t know. I felt scared suddenly, like nothing was familiar, not even me. I grabbed my computer, stuffing it in my bag and taking the steps two at a time to the garage. I had a lump in my throat as I pushed open the garage door, cutting behind Peter’s massive SUV, over to Super Shitty. I pulled the cover off and threw my bag in the passenger seat, then realized I no longer had a key. I sat there a second, then, on a hunch, reached down beneath the floor mat, rooting around. A moment later, I felt the ridges on my finger, and pulled out my spare. Waiting for me, all this time.
The engine cranked, amazingly, and as it warmed up, I popped the trunk and got out. It wasn’t easy fitting all three bins in the small cargo space, but I managed. Then I found the garage door button, hit it, and climbed back in.
The street was dark, no cars in sight as I pulled out into the road. I had no idea where I was, but I knew how to get where I was going. I put on my blinker and turned right, toward North Reddemane.
Fifteen





Twenty-five minutes later, I was unlocking the door of room 811 of the Poseidon, feeling around for a light switch. When I found it, the décor, achingly familiar, jumped into place. Faded bedspread, shell painting over the headboard, slight tinge of mildew in the air.


The entire drive, I’d been leaning forward over the wheel, peering at the road, worrying that somehow everything I remembered would just be gone, wiped clean. I had a scare when I saw that Shrimpboats restaurant was boarded up, but then, over the next slight hill, I saw Gert’s, their OPEN 24 HRS sign visible. The Poseidon, same as I remembered it, was just beyond.
I thought the manager might ask questions, considering my age and the time of night, but she barely looked at me as she took my cash, sliding the room key across to me in return. “Ice machine’s at the end of the building,” she informed me, before turning back to her book of crossword puzzles. “Drink machine only takes bills, no change.”
I thanked her, then drove down, parking in front of my room. It took only a few minutes to pull the boxes to the door, another to get inside. Now, here I was. I sat down on the bed for a few minutes, looking around me, the surf pounding loudly just outside. Then I started to cry.
It was all just such a mess. Moving, running, changing: I couldn’t keep it all straight anymore, and didn’t want to. I felt so, so tired, tired enough to crawl under that old bedspread and sleep for days. No one knew where I was, not a soul, and while I thought this was what I wanted, I realized, in the quiet of that room, that it was the scariest thing of all.
I reached up, wiping my eyes and taking a shuddering breath. I knew I should go back to my mom’s, that she would be worried, that this would all look better tomorrow. But th at wasn’t home, and neither was Tyler, or Petree, or Westcott, or Montford Falls, or even Lakeview. I had no place, no one.
I picked up my phone, shoulders shaking, and looked at the keypad, glowing beneath my fingers. A blur of faces passed across my mind: my friends in Tyler, the girls from my cheer team in Montford Falls, the tech guys I’d hung with backstage in Petree. Then Michael, my surfer, all the way up to Riley and Deb. I’d known enough people for every minute of the day, and yet still didn’t have anyone as my two a.m. The one person I would have considered I wasn’t even sure wanted to talk to me anymore.
But what about warts and all? I thought, thinking of that black ring on Dave’s wrist. I looked down at my own wrist, the old Gert I’d tied there as I drove away from my mom’s. We each had circles now on our wrists, totally different and yet equally important. I knew my faults were many, my secrets even more. But I didn’t want to be alone. Not at 2:00 a.m., and not now.
I dialed the number slowly, wanting to get it right. Two rings, and he picked up.
“Yes,” I said after his hello.
“Mclean?” he asked. “Is that you?”
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing and looking out my open door, at the ocean. “The answer’s yes.”
“The answer ...” he said slowly.
“You asked me to go out with you. I know you probably changed your mind. But you should know, the answer was yes. It’s always been yes when it comes to you.59
He was very quiet for a moment. “Where are you?”

I started crying again, my voice ragged. He told me to calm down. He told me it was going to be all right. And then, he told me he’d be there soon.
After we hung up, I went into the bathroom and washed my face, then used a nubby hand towel to dry off. I was so tired, and yet I knew I needed to stay awake, so I could be ready to explain when he showed up, whenever that might be. I sat down on the bed, kicking off my shoes, and reached for the remote. But then I looked at my boxes instead, and left it where it was.
I dragged the heavy box over, taking off the lid, and started stacking things around me on the bed. The books, the photos both framed and in albums, the yearbooks, all my notebooks and old journals, all in a circle, like numbers on a clock, with me in the middle.