The Goodbye Year

by Kaira Rouda

  She kicked the wooden plank in front of her, not caring if it hurt her toe. The motion felt good. In the back of her mind, when she allowed herself to think about that night, she wondered if her dad had tried to kill her, too. He had given her a strong sleeping pill and a whiskey chaser. He’d given Piper one of those same pills, but she hadn’t taken it and neither, luckily, had her mom. On most days, she decided he had drugged her so she wouldn’t know what was going on as he tried to smother her mother. Thanks, Dad, that’s not creepy or anything, she thought.

  Ha, my smothering mother was almost smothered herself, Marni thought. Could have been poetic justice. But even though her dad was lame, lazy, and sleeping with another mom, he wasn’t a murderer at heart. She knew that because she loved him. She’d told him that the one time she’d visited him in jail. They wouldn’t let him out before the trial, he had explained, because he was a risk to himself and others.

  Aren’t we all? Marni thought. The sun was sinking lower in the sky; winter had arrived and with it a darker colored ocean, almost black blue, and sand that never fully warmed each day from the sun. Marni sat down on the boardwalk and dangled her feet over the sand. A curious and no doubt hungry seagull approached her slowly, turning its head back and forth, sizing her up for food potential. The bird had part of a burrito wrapper, yellow and greasy, hanging from the corner of its beak. Marni recognized the Tortilla Grill paper. Their fryer explosion had saved her from the lockdown fiasco the day of the raid at school.

  She’d been standing alone in line behind a huge group of junior girls, something she’d been getting used to now that Ashley and Dane were a thing. She was waiting to order her food when a guy from the kitchen came running out shouting, “Fire!” and they all had to hurry outside. Marni decided she couldn’t make it through the rest of the school day without lunch, so she had walked another block to Shirley’s Bagels. Of course she was an hour late returning to campus, missing sixth period, but for once that was a good thing. She never even made it into the quad as the police told her to go home. But she hadn’t. She’d waited alone in the parking lot, scared and confused, with no information about what was going on inside until her mom appeared. Her mom had taken charge of the crowd of worried parents and other students stranded by the lockdown. Her mom had been really cool that day.

  Even though other kids told her she was lucky she didn’t see the raid, didn’t have to stare into Collin’s eyes as they led him away, Marni felt as if she missed a formative part of her cohorts’ bonding. She had heard all the stories by now, but she’d missed the actual experience all because of a fryer exploding. Her mom, racing onto the scene calming parents and then forcing police to allow her into the school, was the first person to appear and calmly announce over the loudspeaker that everything was over. There was no bomb, no gunman, no more worries. Marni could imagine the scene, but hadn’t experienced it. Once again, she was just outside of the rest of her class, not as cool. That’s why she’d taken the sleeping pill when her dad offered, she knew, to escape from being left out again. Besides, she’d been trying to find her dad’s pill stash for weeks, to no avail. She’d promised to sell Doug one if she’d found them. Thank God her dad was good at hiding everything, including who he really was.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Kiley said, sitting down beside her, scaring the looming seagull away. She rubbed her hands together and shivered. “It’s freezing down here. You cold?”

  “Sort of,” Marni said.

  “Let’s go talk in my car. And then I can drive you home,” Kiley said.

  Marni shrugged. She supposed it would be better than the bus, and since Kiley was a car dealer’s daughter, she probably had a nice ride. They crossed the boardwalk in silence and when Kiley pushed her key remote, Marni saw the lights of a black Mercedes sports car flash at them.

  “I know. Ridiculously expensive car for a high schooler,” Kiley said as they climbed inside. “So, I know you’ve been avoiding me ever since I told you about your dad and my mom. And then, well, with what happened at your house. Sorry, that must be intense.”

  That’s one way to put it, Marni thought, playing with the sleeve of her gray sweater. Kiley had turned on the car and the seat warmer was heating up her butt. This was how the other half lived, Marni thought. Actually, the one percent was what Kiley’s family was, for sure.

  “Well, my mom wants to help fix things, and she told me to tell you that,” Kiley said. Marni snorted, but Kiley continued. “I know, she probably caused this whole thing and she feels terrible. For you and your sister.”

  “What about my mom?” Marni said, suddenly defensive.

  “Well, she doesn’t really know your mom. So you know, it’s whatever you want. Do you want her to help your dad or your mom? You can think about it. Oh, and here, this is from her, too,” Kiley said, handing Marni an envelope. Kiley’s dark black fingernails were a stark contrast to the white envelope with Marni’s name written on it in fancy cursive letters.

  Marni didn’t know what to say, or what to do as Kiley pulled out into traffic.

  “Do you know where I live?” Marni asked.

  “I’ve been there once,” Kiley said, and laughed. “I went trick-or-treating in your hood this year.”

  Marni looked over at the other girl and realized she wasn’t going to say any more.

  “Look, I know you have a lot going on. My mom and I have finally come to an understanding and, well, she knows she caused a lot of problems. She’s trying to fix things, at my house, and hopefully with you, too. Just think about it and let me know. I can tell her to testify against your dad or stay quiet.”

  Kiley had stopped the car in the street, not pulling into the driveway. Marni supposed she didn’t want to be seen, especially by Marni’s mom.

  “Okay, thanks, I’ll get back to you,” Marni said, climbing out of the car and grabbing her backpack. “See you at school.” As she climbed the steps up to her house, she knew what was in the envelope she held in her hand. It was a payoff, it was sympathy, it was guilt, it was a ticket out of here.

  She’d need to think about Kiley’s mom’s offer to help her mom or defend her dad. Either way, she was taking the money in this envelope for herself, she grinned as she walked up the stairs. She’d ask the counselor at school how to put it in a bank as a college fund and she’d hurry, before anybody changed their minds.

  JUD

  Jud loved the desert.

  Even though the dry air necessitated the use of a lot of expensive lotions, he felt like he looked less puffy, sleeker out here. And then there was the nightly, and sometimes afternoon, sex with various men he knew. All in all, it was the perfect spot for him to plot his next act. He had a lot of celebrating to do since he was finally free of the old ball and chain. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and tried to force his smile to reach his eyes, but it wouldn’t, not yet.

  Jud pinched a clump of skin on his upper arm and plunged in the needle. He’d been injecting himself with human growth hormones for a few years and attributed his youthful look and amazing bedroom prowess to its use. Of course, Sarah had discovered him “shooting up,” as she called it, one time and had totally freaked out. It was like when she realized he’d gotten Botox and then an eye lift. What had she expected? She wasn’t the only one who needed to look timeless.

  “You’re going too far,” she had said. “And I let you go too far with me. I look like a freak and you’re beginning to as well. We need to stop. We have to age.”

  He’d glared at her and finished the injection. She was jealous, that was all. Of his life that was so big, when hers was so small. She’d started telling her friends not to have plastic surgery; he’d overheard her saying exactly that to someone on the phone, months before they separated.

  “It hurts, it’s not natural,” she had said, staring out at the ocean as he eavesdropped. “No, I feel weird. If our flight has a layover anywhere in the middle of the country, people stare at me, but not because they think I’m pretty. They
think I’m on one of those reality TV shows. I’ve become one of those women.”

  Those were his women, Jud had thought, fighting the urge to wrestle the phone out of her hands and give whomever it was the other side of the story.

  “Well, yes, thanks but I’m not doing one more thing. Ever. Once all of this absorbs and starts to sag, I’ll start feeling like me again. I even scheduled a breast reduction. Jud is going to kill me.”

  He’d listened to her betrayal and then he’d picked up the phone and called Tom, ordering a private plane for a flight to the desert the next morning. She didn’t appreciate him anymore, that was clear. His artistry was wasted on her, but there were plenty of women lining up at his door. He’d still tell his wife’s story. Before the first boob job, she’d been flatter than the proverbial pancake, he always told them; and they laughed politely, looking down at their pancake chests. Now she was perfect. And their faces would glow with the idea that they, too, would be perfect soon. He, and his hands, made it all possible. Even divorced, he would use their story. And though the thought of her with other men still bugged him, as long as she chose someone attractive, the brand, his brand, would survive. She promised to keep his secret. She had to keep his secret for all of their sakes. He dropped the used syringe into the trash can. Jud leaned into the mirror and pushed at the corners of his eyes, behind his glasses. It was almost time for filler, he realized.

  Man, he was bored. It was always a slow time, right before the holidays. Unless a woman had gotten a huge divorce settlement and wanted to recreate herself for the new year, most of his clients stopped self-improvement projects by the beginning of November. Speaking and conferences paused during December, too.

  “Hey,” Mark said, appearing in the bathroom in his Speedo. “Want to lay out?” He was tall, dark, and handsome but he made Jud miss Tom more than anything else. And, didn’t this idiot know by now he should avoid sun damage at all cost? The young were so frustrating.

  What Jud wanted to do was make money. He needed more money if he was going to be able to afford a new life and his stupid divorce. He still didn’t understand why Sarah was entitled to half of everything, or how she’d found his hidden accounts, forensic accounting something. Whatever it was, he was screwed and knew it the minute he sat down with his attorney and she pulled out the documents. Oh, and he also had to pay for giving her herpes, unless she wanted him to file another lawsuit and bring that delicate subject out in open court. “Infecting your wife with an incurable disease, that is very serious,” his attorney informed him in a stern voice reserved typically for scolding toddlers.

  He should fire him, and he would have but apparently Sarah had done something called “conflict out” all the best attorneys in LA. She was trying to screw him even after all he’d done for her all those years. Bitch.

  “No, I don’t want to lay out. But I am hungry. Can you make lunch?” he said. He realized his voice was harsh, and added, “Thanks.”

  He swatted Mark on his firm butt as he walked out of the room and decided to call his agent, Don, again. Don’s assistant told him, as usual, Don was busy.

  “I’m not hanging up until he takes my call,” Jud said. “Tell him that.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, pushing the hold button so Jud would suffer through the awful holiday music piping into his ear. He put his phone on the bathroom counter and pushed speaker, as the most awful Christmas song ever recorded filled the air.

  “Look, Jud,” Don said, his booming voice replacing the horrible holiday song. “I’m a busy man. And you, you’re a son of a bitch. How could you upset that woman?”

  “What woman, Don?” Jud asked. He was facing the mirror, watching himself handle his very important speakers bureau agent. He needed to be just as important, as powerful. He pushed his chest forward, reminding himself to speak from his gut. “You work for me, remember? You have to take my calls.”

  “Your wife. Sarah. She’s the reason I took you on. She was my high school sweetheart. Do you remember that, champ?” Don said.

  Jud didn’t remember that until this moment, actually, and he didn’t like the tone his agent was taking nor did he understand the relevance so he said, “So?”

  “So? You broke her heart. Cheated on her, lied about who you were. Gave her a disease. Your daughter is trying to focus on her senior year, but all you do is think about yourself, Jud. You’re a piece of shit,” Don said.

  This wasn’t going well, Jud realized, but he needed to defend himself. And he loved the speaking circuit. “Look, I’m not the best husband. But I’m a good father,” Jud said, noticing from his reflection his cheeks had taken on a red glow. He needed to breathe.

  “You weren’t going to let your daughter go to the college of her choice, isn’t that right?”

  Jud’s mouth was dry. How did Don know all of this? “No, well, I’m going to let her go where she wants. Promise.”

  He heard Don laugh. Jud imagined him sitting in his glass-lined, thirtieth-floor office, king of LA and all the minions below him. Don could make or break you, start a career or end it. It was time for Jud to beg, to soften a bit. He loved speaking around the world. It was his favorite part of his multifaceted life.

  “Look, Don, we go back a long way, too,” Jud said. “I was in your wedding.”

  “You got drunk and passed out. You left Sarah alone, no one to dance with,” Don said. “Always were a piece of shit. But I kept you around for her, for Sarah. So I could make sure she was taken care of. But not anymore. I’m releasing your contract. Good luck. You’re going to need it. I’m sure all those boob jobs will provide enough money for you and your—boys.”

  “Wait. If you release me from my speaking and appearance fees contract, then Sarah will get half of nothing,” Jud said. Jud knew how Don felt about Sarah and he’d use it. He hoped he had found the fault in Don’s plan. Jud took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom, sitting down in the overstuffed white chair in front of the contemporary ribbon fireplace. He loved the fireplace, the controlled glow.

  “She’ll get half of your patent earning, and that should be good for awhile. She’s resourceful. She has a lot of friends like me who will take care of her, especially after all you’ve done. She was a gorgeous woman and you made her doubt herself, cut her all up, and all the while you were gay? You suck, man.”

  The phone went dead. Jud hurled the phone at the fireplace and watched as it shattered the glass.

  SARAH

  Sarah knew it was time to focus on the mess that was her life. After the school raid, after Jud had confessed on his hospital bed while suffering only from a ridiculous bump on the head that he construed as a heart attack, she’d told him to move out. Next she had called her mother and told her everything and purchased her a one-way plane ticket to come stay and help take care of Ashley. Only then did she finally allow herself a moment to grieve for her marriage. She had known there was so much swept under the rug that there was a mountain of dirt under there, but she had no idea she’d married a man who didn’t love her as more than a friend. The reality stung. She had been the definition of a prop. The façade that kept his life working.

  The divorce attorney she’d hired, a recommendation from Melanie’s husband, had a reputation for being a shark. During their first meeting, Sarah had broken down crying because the attorney said he’d ruin Jud.

  “We are not going to ruin anyone. I want only what belongs to me, nothing more, and I want this over as quickly as possible. Ashley and I need to be taken care of, of course, but I assume he will be a man of his word on that,” she had said.

  “Don’t assume anything, Mrs. Nelson. That’s why I’m here. If he cheated, or whatever he did to make you file for a divorce, then he is capable of a far broader deception of some kind. You need to stay on your toes. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me the story? It would help me defend you better,” the attorney had said.

  He had been fishing for gossip, as had most of the people she knew. But she wouldn’t c
onfide in anyone but her mother. When Jud’s agent had called her, she’d told Don enough that he got the drift. Once she was through with the divorce, she would never speak of it again.

  It had been two weeks since she’d seen her husband now. She was interested in the emotions she felt. One moment, she despised him and the next had pity for him. And the next, she missed him. She’d told Jud not to come home, ever, but she knew he would have to return. He would need to move out, creating another empty space in this ridiculously oversized house that she had tried to make a home.

  Sarah walked slowly down the staircase, hoping her mother was still asleep. It was early and Ashley didn’t need to get up for school for another half hour. The sun was up, sparkling on the water just outside her kitchen window. Front row, the best of the best, Jud has called this view. But it was all an illusion. Sarah had been swept up in a fantasy of her own making, she realized. She put the teapot on the stove and lit the gas burner.

  She’d seen in Jud the perfect features, both externally and professionally. He was handsome, a doctor, so smart, great personality, strong chin, and alarmingly blue eyes. And she was a young college student, having fun in school but certainly looking for Mr. Right to start a home with. Because that’s all she’d ever wanted, to be a mom and have a family. She’d had one boyfriend in high school, ironically it had been Don, Jud’s speaking agent; but they’d never “done it,” a fact everyone knew and her friends in high school had teased her about mercilessly. They’d called her Saint Sarah for her virtuous ways, but she really didn’t believe it was saintly to wait until your wedding day to have intercourse. It was simply smart, and it felt right.

  So when medical student Jud Nelson asked undergrad Sarah McCarthy out to dinner, it seemed perfect. Everyone said they were the perfect couple, from the moment of their first flirty encounter to their wedding day three years later. Meant to be, they’d said.