The Goodbye Year

by Kaira Rouda

  Now, she’d smashed into the back of someone’s car. She grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and squeezed her legs together to stop the burning. During the shop class she finally had realized the discomfort she had been feeling for days must be a yeast infection, and was on her way, too quickly, to the drugstore to buy relief. Now this. Ashley would be so disappointed in her, again. As usual.

  Sarah used to be the star of her own life. She had been a talented volleyball player recruited to play at USC and homecoming queen of her beach community just up the coast from where she lived now. She was popular and funny, sorority president. She’d had everything going for her, including a first-year med student boyfriend who swept her off her feet during her senior year in college. Jud was everything she’d dreamed of and he was going to be a famous doctor, no altruism about his plans then, or now, she knew. Her life would continue its happy trajectory without a hiccup. That was before she allowed him to transform her body into his image of the perfect woman. Sure, she’d been complicit, but that didn’t mean she was proud of her choices. Now, she couldn’t be out in the sunshine without layers of sunscreen and often, when she was with Jud, an umbrella. Volleyball was out of the question for him—his hands were far too valuable he always told her—and the sunshine was too damaging for her skin. She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror, her eyelash extensions making dramatic lush circles around each of her sad blue eyes.

  Frustrated, she pushed her door open as a woman and a man walked quickly to her side.

  “Sarah? Are you all right?” Jud said, a look of shock on his chiseled face. His perfect wife never made mistakes, never had accidents, Sarah realized. She wanted to laugh at his ridiculous expression but noticed Melanie was crying. The poor woman was having a bad evening, her frizzy hair, bad pink lipstick, and wrinkled face and dress weren’t helping her overall look, Sarah thought. Melanie was out of her league in their community, just an awkward transplant from Ohio or someplace, a woman she tried to avoid or dismiss with a pleasant wave, but at this moment Sarah had to talk to her.

  “Oh my goodness, Melanie, I’m so sorry,” Sarah said, reaching out to touch Melanie’s shoulder. A gesture of comfort that she retracted quickly, waving her manicured finger in the air. “It’s all my fault. I’ll cover everything.”

  “Geesh, Sarah, really, it’s not all your fault at all,” Melanie said. “I’m the one who backed into you. I backed out without looking.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Sarah said.

  “Ladies, it appears you are both fine, just having a bad night. If I may suggest, why don’t you call each other in the morning,” Jud said, wrapping a firm arm around Sarah’s shoulders as she stood next to the car.

  She noticed her husband had trapped Melanie in the same tight embrace—a suburban peace officer striking a bargain he couldn’t enforce. What a fucking hero.

  “Sure, let’s do that, if it’s okay with you, Melanie?” Sarah said, feeling herself regaining composure, shrugging Jud’s arm off her shoulder, anxious to get to the drugstore. “Let’s just talk in the morning, okay? I know where to find you.”

  “Great idea, Mel,” Jud said, patting both women on the shoulder like a principal breaking up a schoolyard fight. “Everybody okay to drive? Of course, I can take you home, Sarah.”

  “Night, Sarah, Jud,” Melanie said, turning and walking back to the driver’s side of her car.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, Melanie. Jud, I have to run a few errands and then I’ll be home,” Sarah said as she sunk back into the driver’s seat.

  Carefully, she disengaged her Mercedes from Melanie’s Volvo’s bumper and drove to the drugstore, hurrying inside to buy yeast infection cream. Even at forty-five years old, Sarah was embarrassed as she waited in line to check out at the only lane open, being operated listlessly by a teenage boy. Of course it’s a boy, she thought.

  She slipped the large package covered with antitheft stickers onto the moving belt, watching as the boy quickly grabbed the package to scan it, and only then looked up, his greasy hair covering most of his forehead and one eye.

  “Hey, Mrs. Nelson,” he said. “Tell Ashley I said hi.”

  “Uh, of course . . . ” Sarah stuttered searching for a name badge or any clue to who this lumbering stranger was. Spotting it, she added, “Bryce. I’ll tell her.”

  Grabbing the small bag, Sarah escaped out the doors and into the crisp night. She wondered why summer had disappeared so quickly. Just last week, she’d been considering turning on the air conditioning as another “unseasonably warm” front descended on Southern California. But Ashley had pleaded with her to save the environment, so Sarah had suffered through what she now realized were hot flashes in silence. Jud had been traveling all week so he’d missed the warm front, arriving home just in time for his Parents’ Night appearance and the cold snap as well. In fact, Sarah realized, pulling her now-dented white Mercedes into the state-of-the-art garage, Jud missed most everything these days. She couldn’t even remember where he was going next week. She made a note to call his assistant, Tom, to ask about the next few trips. Tom was a very friendly man on the phone, she remembered. He always knew where Jud was, and when he’d return, from one week to the next.

  She’d need to focus on her marriage, she knew, just as soon as Ashley was out of the house. Ashley’s success had been her responsibility. Her job as parent, along with being Jud’s walking advertisement, was her identity. But now that had to change. It happened to everybody. All of her friends agreed. You lost sight of each other, busy raising exceptional kids, doing the volunteer work in the community while he was building a career. But in the end, the kids left and everybody came back together, husband and wife, just like they started.

  Alone, together.

  That thought made her swallow, trying to push away the tears. Her baby would be gone next year, studying at Harvard, a whole country away, continuing along her brilliant path, soaring close to the sun just like her father.

  Sarah walked gingerly into her sprawling contemporary oceanfront home, hoping both Ashley and Jud were asleep, almost certain Jud would be. It was typical for him to be asleep by nine at night, she thought, wondering if that was a sign of old age or something else. She wanted to use the medicine she’d purchased, pour a glass of wine, and climb into bed. It might even be a good night to delve into the medicine cabinet where she kept an assortment of prescription medicines. She knew there were some good pain pills, ones she had left over from her second breast augmentation surgery.

  She was greeted by the sound of laughter and pounding music. The kind of music that drove Sarah crazy, the kind without words, electronic dance music they called it, just a pulsing beat created by one of the famous DJs Ashley followed with a passion. Sarah tried to remind herself of her own crush on KC and the Sunshine Band or Earth, Wind & Fire and took a deep breath. Under the cover of ear-piercing sound, she crossed the kitchen and the family room, making it to her wing of the master bedroom, a white-carpeted sanctuary, closing the door behind her and kicking off her high-heeled shoes. It was times like these Sarah was thankful for Jud’s insistence on his and hers sitting areas, closets, and bathrooms, both connected to their large master bedroom overlooking the sea. Jud had even divided their master bed—a Sleep Number that was divided down the middle, perfectly dialed to separate settings for each of them.

  “Hey, Mom,” Ashley said, bursting into Sarah’s sitting room without a knock. Ashley wore a long-sleeved maroon and white Crystal Beach High School baseball jersey and yoga shorts. Her legs went on forever, Sarah thought, momentarily distracted as she dropped the brown bag with the medicine on her white leather couch and walked to the door to keep her daughter from coming all the way into the room.

  “Homework finished?” Sarah asked, as Ashley shook her head back and forth, her long blonde hair moving in unison with her head, the whole effect one of beauty and grace. And, God help her, superiority, just like her father. Sarah touched her daughter’s shoulder and pulled he
r into a hug.

  “You know I’ll get everything done. How was Parents’ Night? Tell me everything,” Ashley said, clearly preparing to bask in the praise Sarah would relay.

  “Did you know the school counselor is naming her baby after you?” Sarah said.

  “How sweet,” Ashley said. “Anything else?”

  “Just the usual glowing praise for my brilliant daughter,” Sarah said, holding her tight. She never wanted to let her go, certainly not across the country. Sarah took a deep breath. What would she do, who would she talk to once she was gone?

  “Okay, well back to work,” Ashley said, breaking their embrace. She headed toward the kitchen with Sarah following behind like a puppy dog. Sarah was beginning to realize she would now be the follower, desperately trying to earn her daughter’s attention. At least Ashley had turned down the pulsing volume of her music a bit. “Everything at school was great. Your teachers love you,” Sarah said, trying to reignite their conversation while navigating around the sleek white honed-granite island to the stainless steel refrigerator. “Did you eat dinner? I left everything out for you.”

  “Thanks. We went to sushi,” Ashley said, her cheeks flushing. “Kind of a celebration for being elected president and vice president.”

  “Of course.” Sarah noticed the “we” that no longer included her.

  Ashley and Blake, her boyfriend, would no doubt be elected Crystal Beach High’s homecoming queen and king. Even though Ashley had signed an early commitment letter to Harvard, Blake was trying to talk her into going to Stanford together in the fall, as assured of their admittance there as they were of their superior position at school. As much as she liked Blake, and he was a nice boy, she just didn’t feel there was a true connection between the two of them. It was as if Ashley had found a person to play house with, instead of her mom. Sarah felt herself deflate, but let the feeling and the refrigerator door go as she reminded herself to drop her shoulders away from her ears, rubbing her neck. She reached for a crystal wineglass and poured a glass of burgundy.

  The burning sensation in her crotch made her double over suddenly as Ashley watched in horror.

  “Mom! What’s wrong?” she yelled, rushing to Sarah’s side.

  “Oh, nothing sweetie, everything is fine. It’s just a, you know, a yeast infection,” Sarah said, her voice trailed off as she waved her hand.

  Ashley crossed her arms, her big blue eyes full of concern. Sarah couldn’t keep her gaze, afraid she’d burst into tears.

  “Something’s up with you, not just a yeast infection,” Ashley said, touching Sarah’s shoulder with her hand.

  “Honey, I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well last night, probably because of the, ah, infection,” Sarah said. She remembered to grab her glass of wine from the counter. “I’m going to bed. But I’ll see you in the morning, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

  Finally back inside the sanctuary of her sitting room, Sarah used the medicine she’d purchased, washed up, rummaged in her cabinet and found one of the pain pills from her stash before she tiptoed into the bedroom. Jud was snoring loudly, his thick dark head of hair arrayed over the pillow on his side of the bed as she climbed in. As was his custom, a wall of pillows separated their two sides of the bed, a convention he’d started when they were newlyweds. In the moonlight shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows she glanced at the single photo in a simple silver frame on her bedside table. Her and Jud on their honeymoon in Hawaii. So long ago. We were happy then, so in love.

  She climbed into bed, and then popped the pain pill into her mouth, washing it down with the rest of her red wine. She hoped she would fall asleep quickly before her thoughts about the future ruined any chance of happy dreams.

  MELANIE

  As she pulled her new, now dented, Volvo into the garage, Melanie took a deep breath.

  She knew two things for certain: For some reason, Jud and Sarah Nelson were the cause of much of her unhappiness in her new life and Dane was responsible for the rest. She’d had her run in with the Nelsons, and as soon as she walked inside the front door, she would face her son. He would be ready, expecting a fight over comments his teachers had made to her. It had happened every year at Parents’ Night beginning in the fifth grade, in Ohio and in California. Melanie sitting eagerly with the other parents, hopeful the start of the new school year would result in a newly dedicated, studious son. Dane would become the A student, not the slacker and class clown. And then the science teacher would pull her aside and tell her he talks too much. Or the history teacher would say, “Oh, you’re Dane’s mother. What a handful, that one,” or some other comment that would let Melanie know she’d failed as a parent and Dane would be, most likely, failing the class. From that inauspicious start would follow meetings with the principal, dropped classes, detentions, and the rest. Just another year.

  But this was the last year. Senior year. This was his last chance. Her last chance. She knew already they’d blow it.

  The overhead light of the garage door turned off and Melanie supposed she needed to go inside. Keith’s car was gone, so she’d have to face her son alone. What he didn’t know was that, aside from silk-screening class, she’d not met a single teacher. They’d both think she was a slacker, too.

  But she wasn’t, was she? She was just focused on her son and his success. That was what moms were supposed to be—the über-focused driver, literally and figuratively, of their kids, right? And this year, this year was the year to prove how good you’d been at it, to show how bright, how talented, how much better your child was than everyone else’s demonstrated by the fabulous college they would attend next fall. The culmination of parent duties as Annie had said.

  But what if he doesn’t get accepted anywhere? And what happens if he does? Melanie walked in the front door, head held high. She wanted to be finished with all of this drama. Why couldn’t she be like the Nelsons, with their perfect daughter headed to Harvard and their perfect empty-nesting lives as king and Queen Bee ensured?

  Melanie stopped and looked at herself in the oversized round mirror in the hallway. She liked the mirror, with its simple silver frame, but lately she’d been avoiding eye contact with herself. For good reason, she thought, pushing at the sides of her face just above her ears, envisioning a younger, tighter face staring back. She needed to go see someone for Botox and whatever else they do behind plastic surgeon’s closed doors. But she wouldn’t be seeing Jud.

  “Mom, what are you doing?” Dane asked, appearing behind her suddenly, causing Melanie to jump.

  “Geesh, that’s the second time a kid has appeared out of nowhere tonight,” Melanie said, suddenly remembering the jogging boy with the darting brown eyes. “Hey, do you know a kid, he has to be new, lots of facial hair, shifty brown eyes. Tall?”

  “You’re looking at him,” Dane said, smiling at his reflection in the mirror above her, pushing his long hair to the side.

  “No, you don’t have facial hair; you have a little five-o’clock shadow. His last name was Winston,” Melanie said, turning to face her son and pulling him in for a hug. She loved him so much.

  “Oh, that was Doug, the new kid,” Dane said, pulling away from her. “He’s pretty cool actually. He does seem older though. It’s weird. He can never hang out either. His parents are really strict. How was Parents’ Night?”

  Melanie appreciated his lilting optimism. He had to care, at least a little, to come and greet her at the door. “Actually, I skipped most of your classes,” Melanie said, walking into the kitchen with Dane following close behind.

  “You what?” he said.

  “It actually felt pretty good, you know, being a slacker,” Melanie said, teasing.

  “But what about those forms to sign, syllabus shit to turn back in?” Dane said, seeming concerned, although Melanie was certain it was an act.

  “You usually forge my signature anyway, right?” She reached for a glass out of the cupboard and opened the refrigerator, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay she’d o
pened before Parents’ Night. It was almost empty, she realized, shocked she’d had more than she thought before she left for the school.

  “I still need the forms to forge,” Dane said, his eyes slits as he watched her pour.

  “I have the forms, don’t worry. Hey, I saw Collin’s mom briefly in the hallway. How is he?” Melanie asked, trying to distract him. Collin had been Dane’s best friend when they’d moved to Crystal Beach. But lately she hadn’t seen him around. As she poured herself a glass of wine, finishing the bottle, she felt his judgment without him saying a word.

  “You drink every night,” Dane said, his brown eyes locked with hers.

  “You play video games every night,” Melanie said, feeling the air in the room begin to change, feeling the toxicity return.

  “Look, I told you I’m going to try this year. I want to go to college, I do,” Dane said.

  Melanie felt the air rush out of her mouth before she could stop it.

  “What? You don’t believe me as usual?” Dane said, pushing away from the counter and turning to leave the kitchen. “Fine. I’ll prove you wrong. And yeah, I can forge your signature but I did want you to meet Mr. Thompson. Econ. He likes me.”

  “I believe you and I’m sorry I didn’t get to every class. I felt sick and had to, uh, sit down,” Melanie said. “It was a hard night, but Annie got me your syllabi.” Melanie thought about the flipped-over lock on Dane’s locker and her heart ached.

  “Why’d you bug Annie?” he asked. His jaw was clenched and an angry blush covered his cheeks. Before she could answer, he turned and hurried out of the room.

  “Long story,” Melanie said, feeling her cheeks get hot. “Hey,” she called, hurrying to the bottom of the stairs, trying to catch him before he made it down the hall and closed his bedroom door.