Why It's Called a Goodbye Page 7

  I need something to calm my nerves.

  I came over to Inez’s apartment for a girl’s night. It’s cleaner in here than my house back home ever was, and we even had a housekeeper. I feel like I might break something. Everything is so white and pointy.

  Inez turns on her sound system, and we sit cross-legged at her coffee table as the music vibrates off the walls. We sing in unison, “He don’t love me like tequila does, and nobody can.”

  Two hours later we have polished off a bottle of Patron, and we’re jumping up and down to Bowling for Soup’s song 1985. We did this same thing in my bedroom at my parents’ late one night back before guys were really interested in us. Brings back memories.

  When the song is over, we sit down, and I feel lightheaded. I say the first thing that comes to mind, “I think I like Malcom Murray.” I hiccup and force the vomit that’s attempting to come up back down.

  “Totally get that. He’s cute. I never see him out with any girls, and he never posts about them on social media.”

  I saw him out with a girl once, but he said they didn’t show up together. “You follow him on social media?”

  “Yeah, I follow a lot of people we went to high school with on social media. It’s good for networking and getting new clients. You can tell he’s a good father, but besides that, he doesn’t give much else away on there.”

  “Hmm. I don’t think he’s going sexless though.” I know he isn’t because he told me about his females. She either doesn’t know about them or doesn’t feel it’s her place to talk about them.

  “I’d say not.”

  “I deactivated my social media accounts. I couldn’t stand the thought that people might bombard me with questions about my personal life.” My throat is burning, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to force the vomit back down again. I whine, “Why did we think it was a good idea to drink an entire bottle of tequila tonight?”

  “We thought it would make us happy.”

  “It did, but now I’m sad again, and I think…I think I’m going…” I stand, run, and barf in the kitchen sink. I turn the faucet on and cup my hands to collect the cool water and splash it on my face. Then I cup some more to drink. I dry my face and hands off with the towel that was hanging in front of me. I turn the faucet off after the last of my stomach contents makes its way down the drain.

  “You know that’s a decorative towel, right?” I hear Inez say behind me.

  I look down at the white towel that now has cream and black lines of makeup smeared on it. “Don’t kill me.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just glad you didn’t puke on the carpet.”

  “I feel much better,” I say, and I do.

  “I think it’s time for bed now before we both regret it in the morning. I have an afternoon meeting with a client.”

  “You work too much. It’s gonna make you old fast.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “I know.”

  I’m supposed to be asleep. Inez tucked me in on her couch before heading to bed herself. Her liver must be better equipped to handle mass amounts of tequila over mine. She didn’t seem nearly as intoxicated as I feel. I keep tossing and turning. My mind is racing about the boys and if they’re okay.

  I pick up my phone to call Stephen to see how they are.

  A voice I could fall in love with answers, “Hello, Adaline. Are you okay?”

  “You’re not Stephen.”

  I can hear him mocking me through the phone, “No, I’m not.”

  “Did I really call Malcom Murray?”

  “That’s me. Was that a question or a statement?”

  “Don’t make fun of me. I thought I was calling my ex-husband.”

  “Did your divorce go through?”

  “Well, not exactly, but I figured it’s best to just refer to him as such from now on. Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think it matters what I think. Are you okay? It’s four in the morning.”

  I blink my eyes several times, “It is? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

  “You’re not a bother, really. Do you need help with something?”

  “Well, what I need is for my boys to not be off with their father in a brand-new sports car. I’m scared they are going to die.” I hang my right leg off the couch hoping to decrease my nausea.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  I let out a very loud burp. “Yes, why?”

  I think he says, “Listen to me.”

  I close my eyes and remember how it felt when his lips were on mine. His hand as it glided around the small of my back. Oh, how I wanted to grind my hips against him to create some sort of friction between my leggings.

  His voice breaks my daydream, “Are you listening?”

  I clench my thighs together. “Hmm.”

  “Go get a drink of water and then try to get some rest. I’ll check up on you tomorrow.”

  Does he care? “You’ll check up on me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you check up on all your slutty females too?”

  “That’s not nice and no. Plus, you’re not one of my females.”

  I roll my eyes and hang up on him. Of course, I’m not one of his females. He’d never choose me. I pull a throw pillow over my face and pass out.

  ELEVEN

  Why is that music so loud? Who plays loud music in the morning?

  I need sleep. I feel like I jumped off a bridge last night, and somehow, I lived. I don’t even like this song. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “Adaline, I’m leaving,” I faintly hear Inez through the pillow that is covering my right ear while my left lies on the couch cushion. “Turn your alarm off. Do you have something you're supposed to be doing?”

  I don't remember setting an alarm.

  When I finally open my eyes, Inez is nowhere to be seen. Did I fall back to sleep?

  That water didn’t help any. I feel like death. I’m never drinking again. I look at the time on my phone, and it’s 1:30pm. Great.

  My phone died on the way home. I plugged it into the charger in the boys’ room while I took a shower. I needed to remove the vomit from my hair and face. I didn’t even recognize myself when I looked in the mirror. Mascara and lipstick mixed with vomit is not a good look.

  After my shower, I took some ibuprofen and drank one of Atticus’ sports drinks from the fridge. I threw on some sweatpants and a forest green cardigan over a mustard yellow tank.

  My head is still pounding, but I really need to write some today.

  I take a seat on my bed that has been remade into a couch. I bring my legs up and set my laptop on top of them.

  Nothing is coming to me. I stare at the blank screen feeling defeated. I rest my head in my hand. I change my position thinking maybe that might help the words come.

  “Where were you last night?” Pops’ voice comes from behind me.

  “Don’t worry, Pops. I slept over at Inez’s.”

  “You’ve stayed at her place a couple times now,” he states.

  I forgot I told him and Mom that I slept at her place the night we all stayed at Malcom’s. I don’t know why I felt like I needed to lie.

  I hear the coffee pot begin to percolate. That’s what I’m missing, caffeine. I move the laptop to the space beside me and go sit down at the kitchen table.

  Pops says, “I know it's hard that the boys aren’t here, but trust me, they’ll come back.”

  “You didn’t see that…that death on four wheels thing Stephen picked them up in. I’m so scared something bad is going to happen to them.”

  He sets a cup of coffee in front of me and rubs my back like he did when I was little. “They’ll be just fine. Boys are very durable.”

  “That isn’t helping.”

  There’s a knock at the door. Pops says, “You expecting someone?”

  Oh no, they’re dead. This is the sheriff, here to tell me my boys are dead. I’m going to kill Stephen if he isn’t dead too. Why did I let them leave with him? I’m a horrible, childle
ss mother now. I can’t even get up to go to the door. I begin to cry.

  “The Monkey Man took care of those raccoons, says they’ve grown pretty big now. I told him as long as they don’t make their way back to the store…”

  That unforgettable country twang, “Uh…um…that’s not…that’s not why I’m here. Is Adaline…is she here?”

  Pops, “Well, yeah.”

  I attempt to get myself in order. I wipe my eyes using the sleeve of my cardigan.

  Malcom states, “It’s just...I have something for her to give to Atticus.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so? Come on in.” I hear footsteps getting closer to where I am. “Addy, Mac’s here for ya.”

  I take the last drink of my coffee before turning around. He’s wearing black sweatpants and a red half-zip pullover. His hair looks wet, but it isn’t raining outside.

  I walk past him out the front door. I sit down on the bench as he closes the door behind him. “I thought you said you were calling?”

  “I did. You didn’t answer.”

  “I don’t remember my phone ringing,” Oh. “It’s on the charger. Sorry.” I don’t know why I feel the need to say sorry all the time.

  “I called Inez who said she thought you should have made it home by now. She called you too, and you didn’t answer.”

  I look at him. “Were you worried about me, Malcom?”

  “I was doing Inez a favor.”

  I begin to pick at a piece of splintered wood on the bench. “I didn’t know you guys talked.”

  “We don’t.”

  “But you have her number.” And she never told me this either.

  “I consulted her a few years ago when I thought I might have to go to court.” He shrugs as he sits down next to me. “Turns out, I didn’t have to.”

  “Oh.”

  “I only called her to figure out if you were okay.”

  I give a half smile and bite my tongue, so I don’t pick on him for caring about my wellbeing. “Well, if you can’t tell by my choice in wardrobe attire, I’m spending the day here writing my life away about stupid romance.”

  “I thought you wrote sports articles.”

  “Yeah, but I also recently began writing crappy romance novels. I’m just glad no one will know it’s me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They publish them under someone else’s name,” I say as my stomach makes a noise that sounds like I haven’t fed it in four years.

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  “Sometime yesterday before tequila was involved. Unless you count limes as eating? I had several of those last night.” I smile.

  He stands. “Come on. I’ll make you my most famous chicken parmesan.”

  “Wait, I, what about Elsie?”

  He points down the road. “Just dropped her off at her grandmother’s for the night.”

  I guess I should eat. I want to ask him about his females, but I don't want to upset him. “Maybe.”

  He steps off the porch. “Suit yourself. I’ll be at home eating chicken parmesan.”

  I watch as he gets in his Explorer and drives away. I can’t believe he didn’t even beg a little for me to come over. I don’t know if he really wants me to come over or if he was just being nice by offering.

  Pops is sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper when I make my way back in the house. “What was that about?” he asks without looking in my direction.

  “He was checking up on me.”

  He puts the paper down and looks right into my eyes, “I thought he had something to give to you?”

  I hold my hands behind my back attempting to make it look like I’m holding something. “That too.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  I look around the kitchen, den, and living room before asking, “Where’s Mom?”

  “Closing the store, why?”

  “I was going to ask her something.”

  “Ask me.”

  This isn’t something I really want to talk to my father about, but he seems to like Malcom. “Malcom asked me to eat dinner with him. As friends, don’t worry, but I don't know if he really wants me to eat dinner with him, ya know?”

  “Huh? You haven’t learned yet that we men tell you exactly how we feel, exactly what we want. We don’t play mind games.”

  “Well, when I said maybe, he said suit yourself, so now I think he was only being nice.”

  “That’s because you said maybe and not yes, sweetheart. Why you women are always thinking things are different than what they are I’ll never understand.” He picks the paper back up, and I leave the room more confused than I was when I walked in it.

  I think about texting him to let him know I’ll be there in an hour, but I’m going to surprise him. Since he’s not sure I’m coming, he might invite another female over. Then I’ll know if I want this to go anywhere or not.

  He already saw me in this outfit, so there is no point in changing to impress him. I do however brush my hair and put it in a bun. I pull a few strands out to frame my face. I don’t have the energy to apply any makeup.

  I look in the mirror before leaving. I’m guessing the lack of water from yesterday is why I have a huge zit on my chin. Why me? I’m thirty-two, so I shouldn’t be getting acne like I’m sixteen. I muster up a little energy to apply some concealer to tame down the redness, and then I make my way downstairs.

  Thankfully, my parents are nowhere to be seen.

  I head outside. As I open the door to my car, I hear my mom say, “Where you off to?”

  Pops replies, “She’s going to see Mac.”

  I turn around and look at them sitting together on the porch. I smile and shake my head as I get in.

  The only car in front of Malcom’s is his Explorer. That’s one good mark for him. Now as long as he didn’t pick a girl up on his way home…

  The lights from inside illuminate out the windows making his house looks so charming. I knock on the door. While I wait, I clasp my hands behind my back and take in a deep breath. My heart is racing. I should have brought something with me.

  He opens the door with his left hand on the knob and his right holding onto the doorframe. I blurt out, “I’m sorry. I was going to bring some alcohol, but I’ve sworn off it.” I duck under his arm and let my nose guide me to the food.

  “Sworn off it, just since last night? Must have been a rough one.”

  “You have no idea,” I say before I see that the table is already set for two. “I…I um, sorry if you already have a guest. I just, you said.”

  “Chill, Adaline. I knew you’d come around. The second plate is for you.”

  “You know you’re very cocky, and I don’t like it.” I kinda do like it, but I don’t want him to know that. I sit down at one side of the four-person square table. “How come sometimes you wear glasses like you are now, but earlier you weren’t wearing any?”

  He picks up the empty plates from the table and walks to the stove. “They are for night driving mainly. I don't have to wear them all the time. Also, I had hoped you’d make the right decision and come over for dinner.” He faces me. “There, that better?”

  I laugh. “You have a weird way of apologizing.”

  “Now that we got that out of the way, how about some food?” He sets down a plateful in front of me.

  He seats himself beside me instead of sitting across from me. “You promise you’re not trying to poison me or something?”

  “Now, I can’t be making promises I can’t keep.”

  After that remark, we ate in silence. I watched him eat ever so slowly, and I mimicked him this time only taking a bite when he did. And for good measure, I made him eat a bite from my plate. It really was phenomenal, and I didn’t know men could cook. Stephen never made me anything. Sure, he got me take-out or took me out to eat, but he never actually made me anything.

  As we place the dishes in the sink, I say, “Did you really make that, or did you hide the to-go bag in the trash can or someth
ing?”

  “I actually enjoy cooking. I made the pasta sauce from scratch.”

  I leave him in the kitchen alone and head for the bathroom before I fall in love with him. After I shut the door behind me and lock it, I look at myself in the mirror. Get a grip, there is a reason he is single. I just need to find out what that is, and I won’t like him as much.

  I find him out on the porch when I’m finished with the conversation that I was having with myself.

  “I wondered if you ever spent any time out here,” I say as we watch the sunset disappear behind the hills across the lake.

  “I made myself a promise when I bought this place that I would at least watch the sunrise or sunset every day.”

  “And have you held up your promise?” I turn and put my arms behind me up on the railing. I look in the windows into his living room.

  “I try really hard to keep any promise I make.”

  I look up at him as he towers over me. I swallow as I get lost in his gray eyes behind dark rimmed glasses. “That’s good. Quit staring at my zit.”

  “What are you talking about? If you must know, I’m staring at your lips when I know I shouldn’t.”

  “Why shouldn’t you? They’re nice lips.”

  He touches my bottom lip with his left thumb. “That they are.”

  His thumb sends the feeling of a million tiny pin pricks over my entire body. I close my eyes and let my head fall back. The smell of the woods mixed with his touch is the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced. He moves his hand to my neck as his lips meet mine.

  We stand like this for several minutes. Our lips touching ever so lightly. Neither of us moving. He releases my neck, and I open my eyes as he steps away from me. I wish I could see his eyes, but it’s dark now, and even with the glow from the lights, I can’t see anything but dark circles beneath his frames.

  He steps forward, moving his arms around my waist, and hoists me up on the deck railing. My cardigan falls off one shoulder. Malcom keeps me steady with one arm as he leans in and kisses my bare shoulder. It’s so intimate. It’s been so long since I’ve felt wanted.

  He may not want me tomorrow, but he wants me tonight, and I’m okay with that.