Why It's Called a Goodbye Read online

  I miss the idea of Stephen, but I don’t miss him. I miss the idea of this perfect family. No family is perfect. Why stay in a relationship with someone if neither of you are happy anymore? I wasn’t happy, and he obviously wasn’t happy.

  I miss Malcom, and it’s only been two days since I talked to him last. There were no new text messages or missed calls this morning from him. I think I could be happy with him. I want to be happy, but I want him to be happy too.

  I hate that he’s giving me space. The more I think about her standing on the porch, the more I hate everything. I’m not generally a hateful person. I don’t want to be hateful, but I really want to rip out Roxi’s eyeballs.

  I give in and text Malcom.

  Me: I’ll call you later. At the store all day for this sale.

  Malcom: Okay

  He said okay. Okay as in okay or okay as in I don’t care if you do or not? I hate text messaging.

  The store was packed with elderly folks when we first opened. We’ve already sold out of all the hunting knives. Pops has been talking to customers instead of restocking shelves, so I’ve been going around putting misplaced inventory back where it goes.

  Atticus leaves his post at the front door and comes to me, “Mom, can we talk somewhere in private?”

  “Sure, why?” I say as I lead the way behind the backroom door.

  He peeks out the small window in the top of the door then turns back around to me. “I know we are supposed to stop people from shoplifting, but we saw a kid, and we let him leave. I’m sorry, Mom, he just… he was wearing dirty clothes and all he stole was some candy.”

  I touch his shoulder. “That’s okay. Do you remember which candies he took, so I can write them down?”

  “He took a Reese’s, some zebra stripe gum, and a pack of Tic Tacs.”

  “Okay, now go back out there, help your brother, and don’t let anyone take off with anything of value.”

  She’s standing by the display of pink tool bags when I walk out of the backroom. I don’t know why she’s here. I go back to organizing the spray paint cans. It doesn’t take her long to find me.

  “You’re the girl from the other day, the one with the pie?” she says from behind me.

  I turn and straighten my posture attempting to look taller than I am.

  She continues, “Is your name Adaline? You’re all Elsie talked about on Wednesday.” She takes her right pointer finger and shoves it in my face. “I’m Elsie’s mom. She only needs one mom. You’ll never take my place.”

  “I never…,” she doesn’t let me finish before she turns and struts to the front of the store, past the boys, and out the door.

  We made it home about an hour ago. The boys are upstairs, and Pops has already passed out in his chair. I get the boys for the rest of this weekend. They said Stephen had Thanksgiving plans with his new girlfriend’s family. I should be upset, but I have a feeling this honeymoon phase will end soon, and he’ll either get tired of her or she’ll find another sugar daddy.

  Mom is in the shower, and I can’t get Roxi out of my head. Now I really need to know what’s going on with her. Are they getting back together? Have they already gotten back together?

  I text Malcom.

  Me: Call me when you’re not busy. I’d rather have this conversation in person, but since we can’t can we video chat?

  While I wait for a phone call from him, I take a shower.

  Still no response when I get out. I dry and dress, and then I check my phone again. Nothing. I power it off, wait ten seconds, and then power it back on. Still nothing new.

  I fold out the couch bed. I’m exhausted and fall asleep holding my phone.

  When I open my eyes, he’s only a foot from my face, sitting with his legs crossed on the floor. I’m lying on my belly. I lift my head from the mattress and blink a few times. He can’t really be here. He’s in Florida. Now I’m delusional. I keep blinking my eyes, but every time I open them, he’s still here. “Malcom?”

  “Your mom let me in. Your parents and the boys went to breakfast.”

  I sit up and pull the covers around me. “How long have you been here?” How long had he been watching me sleep?

  “I got in town about an hour ago. I came home after I got your message. You said you wanted to talk in person. So here I am.”

  “Wait. What? It takes twelve hours to drive here from Florida. That means you haven’t slept.” Who drives twelve hours because I said I would have rather had a conversation in person? Maybe he’s crazy.

  “No, I haven’t,” he yawns.

  I pull the blanket tighter around me. “Where’s Elsie?”

  He stands and shoves his hands in his pockets. He rocks on his feet from heel to toe. “With my parents. I have to go back and get her after we talk.”

  “Malcom, you can’t be serious. You have to sleep before you drive back there.”

  “I’ll sleep after we talk. I figure you don’t want to talk here. We can go to my place.”

  I hate to even bring her up. “Will she be there?”

  “I hope not. Her mom said she left for Malibu last night,” he shrugs.

  “Okay, but I need to get dressed first. I’ll just meet you there.”

  “You don’t have to. I’ll bring you back.”

  “Malcom,” I protest.

  He raises his hands, “Okay then. I don’t want to argue. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

  “Alright. I’ll get ready as fast as I can.”

  With no shame, I watch his backside until it disappears from view.

  I fling off my blanket and get dressed like I might win a Guinness world record for fastest person to get ready. Then I’m out the door and on my way to him.

  On the ride over, I play out what our conversation might be like over and over in my head. How he might be getting back together with her. Maybe she was going to Malibu to get the rest of her things, she’s moving in, they’ll be this perfect little family with their perfect little lake house, and I’ll be lonely. A lonely mediocre writer who lives with her parents.

  My anxiety is through the roof, and since I quit smoking, and I refuse to take the anxiety medication Rebecca wrote me a prescription for, I chew off all my fingernails before I park.

  There are still remnants of my pie laying on the ground, so I step around it and observe clothes scattered up the steps and all over the porch railing. What happened here?

  I knock. I don’t see any movement, but Malcom’s Explorer is parked out front. I knock again and nothing. I try the doorknob and discover it’s unlocked. Upon entering I find Malcom asleep on his couch. His eyes are closed with his head propped up by his hand. I knew he had to be tired. Driving twelve hours on no sleep is crazy.

  I look around and see that there are broken shards of glass covering the kitchen counter and tile floor. I start to pick them up and place them in the trash can at the end of the counter when Malcom wakes up. “You don’t have to clean up her mess.”

  “She did this?” I ask.

  “Yeah, she wasn’t happy when I didn’t fall for her scheme this time.”

  “What do you mean, this time?”

  “Every so often she decides she wants to be Mom. That she wants us to get back together, to be a family, and as much as I have wanted that in the past, I know it won’t work. It never does. She’ll stay for a few days and do things with Elsie. Enough to get a few good pictures for her social media. Then one day I’ll wake up, and she will have disappeared in the night.” He pats the seat next to him on the couch. “I told her I was in love with someone else. She didn’t like that answer. She went a little crazy. She doesn’t want me, but she doesn’t want me to be with anyone else. I decided to leave to get Elsie away from it. I don’t want her to see her mom that way.”

  As much as I’d like to comment on the fact that he said he loved someone, I stay quiet. He seems to talk more if I don’t say anything.

  “I thought she was doing better. Her mom said she was, but she isn’t. T
he entire time she was here she mainly hung out in the bathroom. I want her to get better, and for a long time, I had hoped Elsie would be enough for her to want to be better. My life is complicated. She’ll show back up again in a few months. When that happens, don’t let her ruin what we have.”

  The bathroom?

  “If nothing happened between you two, why did she have on your clothes the day I came? And, where were you?” I ask.

  “She didn’t ask to wear it. She just did. I didn’t give it to her to wear. I was on my way to you, but we must have missed each other.”

  “You really didn’t sleep with her?”

  “No, I told you I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else.”

  “Did she try?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that question?” he yawns.

  “I don’t know. You need to sleep if you plan to drive all the way back to Florida, pick Elsie up, and then drive all the way back before tomorrow night.” Elsie has school, and he has work on Monday.

  He pulls his phone from his left front jean pocket and uses both his thumbs to tap on the screen. “There, I booked a flight. It leaves in six hours. I’ll have my parents meet me at the airport with Elsie, and we’ll fly back home. She’ll like that. She’s never been on a plane before.”

  I stand. “Well, make sure you set an alarm on your phone so you don’t miss your flight. I’ll leave and let you get some sleep.”

  “Don’t leave. We haven’t finished talking.”

  “I believe you didn’t sleep with her. She confronted me yesterday at the store. She told me to quit pretending to be Elsie’s mom.”

  “Don’t listen to her. She’s a different breed. Don’t be mad at me anymore.” He opens his arms up, gesturing for me to sit on his lap.

  I sit down on his legs with my back against the arm of the couch and stretch my legs out on the cushions. I wrap my right arm around his neck. “I know Elsie’s mom will always be around. I just didn’t want to get in the way if you wanted to work things out. I didn’t want to intrude on your family.”

  He kisses my forehead. “How many times do I have to tell you that you are no bother, and I love having you around?”

  “Tell me more about how much you love having me around,” I say and then snuggle into his neck. He smells like vanilla mixed with oranges.

  “I love that you know Elsie comes first. I love that you were going to be selfless and give me up if it meant Elsie and I would be happy.”

  “Aww, Malcom. You’re the sweetest.”

  “You’re the one who tastes like sugar,” he says, and then licks my neck. “But can we take a nap? I’m on the verge of crashing.”

  I haven’t had enough sleep the past few nights. “I’m tired too.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Malcom left to head to the airport about ten minutes ago, but I’m cleaning up this mess before I leave. I sweep up the glass shards using the broom and dustpan I found in his hall closet. I use my foot to open the trashcan lid, and I dump the dustpan inside. As the top slowly shuts, I notice a piece of paper under the shards with MAC written in bold letters at the top.

  I carefully dig it out and read the letter.

  Mac,

  If you think I’m going to give you full custody of MY daughter, you are mistaken. Mom told me you were thinking of taking me to court. I’ll save you the trouble. Don’t. If you do, I’ll take her to Malibu with me, and you’ll only get to see her when I let you. Oh, and keep your girl of the week away from her. We both know she isn’t the one for you.

  XOXO, Roxi

  He didn’t mention anything about this letter. She seems pretty upset about me. She’s going to fight for full custody. Elsie is everything to him. Not having her here with him would kill him.

  After I’m back home, I message Malcom.

  Me: I found the letter from Roxi in the trash. I wasn’t snooping. I was cleaning up before I left.

  Malcom: You didn’t have to do that. I would have done it when I got back. Don’t worry about the letter. I’m not. She just feels threatened.

  Me: You guys don’t have a custody agreement?

  Malcom: No, I have been fine with how things are. I have Elsie, but your divorce got me thinking maybe I should have something in writing.

  Me: Oh. You know courts usually are in favor of the mother.

  Malcom: I’m not worried. She wouldn’t show up for the court date anyway, but I haven’t filed anything yet.

  Me: Okay. Have a safe trip.

  I check my email. There are several junk emails that I delete. One from The Hive about writing an article about holiday meals for a Christmas issue. Two from Writing Talent Inc., one pitching me another book idea and the other asking for what I’ve finished on the beach novel. I haven’t written a single word for that yet.

  I go to begin writing something to send to them when I’m interrupted by Sawyer complaining that the internet quit working.

  Pops yells from the other room, “I unplugged that wee fee thing. I needed the outlet to plug in my light-up deer head. Come look!”

  Sawyer and I head into the living room and find a full-size deer head lying on the living room floor. “Isn’t it supposed to be mounted on the wall?” I ask. It used to be mounted on the wall when I was a kid. I thought they had gotten rid of it.

  “Well yeah, but your mom has these walls covered in pictures and there’s no room for my poor deer. You know I shot this beaut back in 1983, before you were even born.”

  Sawyer pleaded, “Can you plug the WIFI back in since you can’t hang it on the wall then?”

  I interject before Pops has time to begin cussing, “No, we only have so many pretty days left before it gets too cold. Go upstairs and get your brother. We are going to do something as a family, without any electronics, WIFI or phones.”

  We spent the day at the zoo with the animals. Most of them were already hibernating for the winter, but we were able to see some. Mom and Pops even came with us. We drank hot chocolate and reminisced on memories of coming here when the boys were toddlers.

  One time, when Stephen actually came with me to visit my parents when the boys were three, we all came to the zoo. It was summer and blistering hot out. The boys cried and hated the stroller. We used those backpacks that have leashes, but the two of them were trouble from the day they were born. Scheming together. That day they helped each other get loose while we were looking at the giraffes. I pushed the stroller while Stephen ran around and screamed their names. We finally found them hanging out by the meerkats. We looked crazy while they were calm as could be as if they weren’t lost at all.

  Another time, when they were a little older, maybe six, we were walking around the park; it was Mom, the boys and me that time. We stopped to look at the hippo and noticed we were missing Sawyer. By the time we found him, he was crying, and the lady with him said he was running around hysterically screaming, “Mom!”

  I jokingly told them when we got to the zoo today that they were fifteen now, and if they ran off to not scream. I told them to call me. Then they reminded me I had them turn their phones off. I told them if they got lost, they were allowed to power them back on, and I kept mine on just in case.

  We had to leave before the light show began because Pops’ back hurt and Mom’s knees were bothering her. We’re now home, and I’m back to writing about beach house bonfires.

  I write late into the night. I thought I’d hear from Malcom when he got into town, but I haven’t, and it’s already past midnight. I message him.

  Me: Let me know when you’re home safe.

  Malcom: I’m home. Sorry, been busy.

  Me: It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay. Get some sleep. You have work in the morning.

  Malcom: I like a woman who tells me what to do.

  Me: Go to bed, Malcom.

  Malcom: You go to bed, Sugar Tits.

  Me: I rolled my eyes at your last message.

  Malcom: Come over tomorrow night and roll them in front of me.


  Me: Why?

  Malcom: Sounds sexy.

  Me: Shut up!

  An unknown number flashes across my screen.

  I answer hesitantly, “Hello…”

  A snippy voice comes through the line, “Is this Adaline Ripley?”

  “Maybe.”

  She huffs, “This is Kitty, Kitty Noel.”

  What in the fuck, why would she call me? I hang up. The same number flashes across my screen again. I answer. “Please quit calling me before I turn you in for harassment.”

  “I just need you to sign the divorce papers, so Stevie and I can get married.”

  “What?” Now she has my attention.

  “Stevie said that’s why we can’t get married because you won’t sign the divorce papers. He loves me now. So, please just sign them, so we can be happy.”

  “Honey, he’s the reason the divorce isn’t final. Why don’t you tell Stevie, is that what you call him?”

  Her voice is small, “Yeah.”

  “Why don’t you tell your little Stevie to quit holding up the divorce I asked for, and then he can marry whoever the hell he wants!” I hang up and block her number.

  I’m so mad I begin to laugh. It’s funny that he told her I’m the reason we aren’t divorced yet. He must already not want her around for the long haul or maybe he’s hoping we’ll get back together. That ship has sailed away and is lost at sea never to be found ever again.

  I want to message Malcom and tell him who called me last night, but I know he’s at work, and I don’t want to bother him. I don’t mind bothering Inez though. Plus, it’s kind of divorce related.

  Me: Kitty called me.

  Inez: Kitty, as in Stephen’s Kitty?

  Me: Yes, her. She asked me to sign the divorce papers so they can marry.

  Inez: What?

  Me: I guess he told her I’m the reason the divorce isn’t finished. Can you reach out to his attorney and let him know that his client’s girlfriend is bothering his soon to be ex-wife, and if she doesn’t stop, I’m going to file harassment charges.

  Inez: On it.