The Goodbye Girls

by Lisa Harrington

  I scurry toward the exit. Like taking candy from a baby.

  * * *

  The halls are quiet and empty because classes are still in. I gather what I need from my locker and slip out the back door. I start speed-walking home, my mind racing just as fast as my legs. It can’t be true. I pull an end of the scarf out from the top of my jacket, hold it to my nose, and inhale. But it is. Deep down inside, I know that it is.

  I find Mom in the kitchen unpacking groceries. “Hey, honey. You’re home early.”

  Without responding, I unwind the scarf from my neck and hold it up for her to see.

  She glances up. “Oh. Did you manage to stain it up good?”

  “No. No stains,” I say flatly.

  “Oh well, better luck next time,” she says, stacking some cans in the cupboard. “How can we be out of cocoa?” she mutters to herself.

  “Mom.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Willa found a scarf exactly like this one at her dad’s place.”

  I see her back straighten.

  “I remember you borrowed this scarf from Trish,” I say, and for what seems like the hundredth time, I bring it to my nose and sniff. “It has your perfume on it.”

  Red floods her cheeks as she turns and slowly sets down the box of cereal she’s holding.

  “It’s too much of a coincidence,” I continue. “It makes sense. That’s why you wouldn’t tell me anything about who you were seeing, why you said it’s so complicated and all that. It’s complicated, all right. You’re sneaking around with my best friend’s dad.” I pause as something occurs to me. I smack my forehead with the palm of my hand. “That’s why you were so mad at me for breaking curfew. You knew I was lying. You knew I wasn’t with Willa. That she was with her dad. Because you guys talk.”

  I wait for her to say something. I thought at least she’d try to deny it, maybe even laugh and say I’m being ridiculous. Instead, she takes down a wine glass and places it on the counter. “There’s an open bottle of wine in the fridge. Pass it to me, would you?”

  I don’t move.

  She sighs and reaches around me to the fridge.

  “Well? You’re sneaking around with him, aren’t you?” I say.

  It takes her a while to answer, but she finally does. “I wouldn’t exactly call it sneaking around.”

  “Keeping him a secret. Not telling us about him. That’s sneaking around, Mom.” Then something else occurs to me, and I suck in my breath. “You weren’t seeing him when he was still with Willa’s mom, were you?”

  “Jesus, Lizzie. No.” She yanks the cork out of the bottle. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

  I toss the scarf on the table. “I’m not sure what kind of person you are.”

  She narrows her eyes. “I think I’ll ignore that comment.”

  I watch her pour a glass of wine, pull out a chair, and sit at the table. I can’t believe how calm she’s acting, like there’s nothing wrong. “How could you, Mom? How could you do this? What were you thinking?”

  “Lizzie. I’m sorry you’re upset, and I—”

  “Not upset, Mom. Mad. Crazy mad.”

  “I know this might create a difficult situation, but I’m sure—”

  “When were you going to tell me, huh?” I can’t stop interrupting her. “After you guys run away and elope or something?”

  “Now, that’s hardly likely,” she says.

  “So what was the plan, Mom?” I say sharply. “Keep it a secret forever?”

  “Of course we were going to tell you. And Willa. And Sean, and Trish. Everybody. We were just waiting…to see if there was something there, between us. I mean, it wasn’t worth telling everyone if we didn’t feel there was any future.”

  “Oh. My. God.” I feel my eyes stretch wide. “You guys have a future?”

  Mom takes a sip of wine and doesn’t answer.

  “Mom! You know what a shitty time Willa’s had. You know that she wants her parents to get back together!”

  “That’s another reason we were waiting,” Mom says. “We were hoping Marlene and Willa would start to adjust to the idea of Greg not coming back, and begin to move on.”

  “Mom! That’s never going to happen.”

  “You said Marlene was doing better, that she was back to work. And that Willa wasn’t fighting against spending time with her dad so much anymore.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’s doesn’t want her family back.”

  Mom rubs her eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Lizzie.”

  “I want you to say you’ll stop seeing him.”

  Again she stays quiet.

  “Mom!” Frustrated, I throw my hands in the air. “Well, I’m going to tell Willa. Like, right now,” I threaten.

  She shakes her head. “Please don’t do that, Lizzie. It’s not our place—yours or mine—to tell Willa. It should be her father.”

  I fold my arms. “So is he?”

  “Is he what? Going to tell her?”

  “Yeah. Obviously.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course he is.”

  “When?”

  “I’m sure it will be soon.”

  “How soon?” I snap.

  “I don’t appreciate your tone, Lizzie,” she says, lifting her chin. “I’m still your mother, and when you get right down to it, this really doesn’t concern you.”

  “It does so concern me! You expect me to keep this huge secret from my best friend?”

  “No,” she says quietly, like she trying not to get angry. “I expect you to let Greg deal with it, and handle it the way he thinks is best.”

  My mouth hangs open. It’s like she’s turned into an alien pod person. “She already knows her dad’s seeing someone,” I say all snarky.

  “Well.” She takes a mouthful of wine. “Then is it really going to make that much of a difference that it’s me?” Her face brightens. “Maybe it will make it easier.”

  “God no, Mom. It’ll make it worse.”

  The brightness disappears. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” I feel like my head’s about to explode. “It just will.”

  “Lizzie. You’re not making any sense.”

  I feel my eyes stretch open again, wider than before. “I can’t believe this is happening!”

  Mom reaches out to touch my arm, but I jerk away. She looks hurt. “I’m sorry you feel this way,” she says. “But it’s not like I woke up one morning and said, ‘I think I’ll make Lizzie miserable.’”

  “You could have hooked up with anyone, Mom. But no. You hook up with the father of my best friend, my best friend who hopes every day that her parents will get back together.”

  Mom’s lips straighten into a thin line. “One, I couldn’t have, as you put it, ‘hooked up with anyone.’ Men aren’t exactly pounding down the door of a forty-five-year-old woman with two kids.”

  I feel a stab of guilt deep in my chest. I know she’s right. She hasn’t been seriously involved with anyone in twelve years. Not since Dad died.

  “And two,” Mom goes on, “this wasn’t planned. Sometimes things happen when you least expect it. He joined the gym, and we just began talking.”

  I flash to when Willa’s dad was at her house fighting with her mom. The red gym bag by the door. You get it for free when you sign up. I should have recognized it.

  “Of course we had met each other once or twice before, but that was about it.” Mom shrugs. “We mostly talked about raising teenage girls, just chitchat, then we started to grab a coffee here and there….”

  “Did he tell you about how wrecked Willa was, still is, about him leaving?”

  A pained expression crosses her face. “Yes, he did. It tears him up.”

  Any bit of guilt I feel melts away. “But you still kept on seeing him, knowing how devastated his
family was.”

  “Me seeing him wasn’t going to change any of that. And really, in the beginning, I was just someone to listen to him, maybe even offer some advice.”

  “Maybe your advice should have been, ‘Go back to your wife and kids.’” I can feel I’m getting close to crossing the line. But I don’t care.

  After a few seconds, she quietly says, “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  I shake my head over and over. This can’t be real. “You know what Willa calls her dad’s mystery woman? A brainless ditz!” My mom’s the brainless ditz.

  Mom’s eyes narrow again. “I think you’ve said quite enough.”

  I start backing out of the kitchen. “You better tell your boyfriend to talk to his kid!”

  “He’s in Boston at a medical conference.”

  “Well, I’m not waiting for him to get back.”

  Mom stands up. “Lizzie!”

  “I can’t. Willa would do the same for me.”

  “Lizzie!” she calls out, but I’m already halfway up the stairs.

  Grabbing my phone, I type out a text to Willa. Meet me at McDonalds. My thumb hovers over Send.

  How am I going to tell you? How am I going to tell you my mom and your dad are a thing? A real thing? I stare at my phone. And that your mom and dad probably aren’t ever going to get back together. And maybe it’s because of my mom.

  I hold down the backspace button until the message is deleted.

  Chapter 20

  I spend the rest of the afternoon in my room sprawled on my bed, fuming to myself and rehearsing different ways I can break this news to Willa. But no matter how I spin it, it never ends well. I must doze off at some point because my stomach growling wakes me up. My room is dark. The clock radio glows 7:08 P.M.

  Mom didn’t call me for supper.

  When I get to the kitchen, Mom and Trish are already finishing up their spaghetti. I don’t say anything. Mom doesn’t even look up. After piling some noodles onto a dish, I slump into my chair across from Trish.

  There’s zero conversation. I can feel Trish’s eyes drilling into me.

  She finally breaks the silence. “So, uh…” She waves her fork back and forth between Mom and I. “What’s going on here?”

  We both stay quiet.

  “What?” Trish says. “Only get 99 percent on your math test, Lizzie?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Trish. It has nothing to do with you,” Mom says.

  “That’s a first.” She slides her chair back and carries her stuff to the sink. “I’ll just leave you guys to it, then.” She grins from ear to ear. “Play nice.”

  The silence hangs thick and heavy in the air, like smoke from a kitchen fire. I keep waiting for Mom to speak, mostly so I can give her the silent treatment, but she doesn’t say a word.

  “Aren’t you going to apologize?” I blurt.

  Mom looks up from her plate. “For what?”

  “What do you think?”

  “If you’re talking about me seeing Greg,” she says, throwing her napkin on the table, “I’ve already told you, I’m sorry you feel like I’ve put you in an awkward situation.”

  I push my noodles away. “Doesn’t sound like you’re sorry.”

  “I’m not apologizing for trying to grab a bit of happiness before I wind up in some nursing home.”

  “Wow.” I don’t trust myself to say anything else. When did she get so selfish?

  When she shows no reaction, I shove my chair away from the table and march out of the kitchen.

  Trish is in the hall putting on her jacket. “You and Mom bffs again?”

  “No.”

  “Hmmm,” she says, shoving her hair under her hat. “Don’t sweat it. Whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll come around.”

  I eye her suspiciously. Is Trish actually being…nice? I expected her to say something more like, “Wish I gave a shit.” I shrug. “Yeah, maybe.”

  She smiles, which throws me off again, and hooks her knapsack over her shoulder.

  For a second I toy with the idea of telling her what’s going on, but I stop myself. Let’s not get carried away just because she had one human moment. Plus she probably wouldn’t even care. I watch her pull on a boot, then stop when her phone pings. She swears under her breath as she reads her screen and aggressively texts someone. She swears again and jams her foot in her other boot.

  I frown. “Where are you going?”

  “Oh, uh.” Her phone pings again. “Prom committee stuff,” she says distractedly as she types in another text.

  After she leaves I glance back toward the kitchen, listening to the clatter of dishes. I usually load the dishwasher after supper. I stand there picking at a piece of peeling paint on the banister, then I head up the stairs to my room and stay there.

  Now I’m going to miss The Voice.

  Thanks, Mom. I hope you’re happy.

  * * *

  Zombie. That’s the word that comes to mind the next morning when I look in the mirror.

  I’m not sure I even slept. I leave for school before anyone’s up. For the entire walk I weigh the pros and cons of telling Willa about Mom and Greg. The pros are I think it’s the right thing to do, and I owe it to her because she’s my best friend. The cons are…well, the list goes on and on.

  I’m at my locker when Willa texts me that she’s home with a sore throat. Clutching my phone to my chest, I can’t believe my luck. I know I’m just postponing the inevitable, but the coward in me will take what it can get.

  At lunch, I sit in the far corner of the cafeteria directly behind a pillar and grind my chocolate chip cookie into dust. I just want the day to be over so I can go back home, hide in my room, and not talk to anyone.

  “Hey!” Garret plunks down right across from me.

  My eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of my head. God. I haven’t thought of Garret once in the last twenty-four hours! Thanks again, Mom! “Hey,” I say in a strangled voice.

  “Were you sick or something yesterday?” he asks spreading butter on his bagel. “I looked for you after school.”

  I nod. “I left early.” I think of Willa. “Sore throat.” Then I give myself a mental head slap. Why did I say that? He won’t want to kiss me with a sore throat. Whoa, get a grip, woman! It’s lunchtime in the caf! “I feel fine now, though.”

  “Seems like everyone’s sick,” Garret says. He goes on to tell me about how this morning someone in Calculus threw up in front of the teacher’s desk and it caused a chain reaction, and two other students—

  Thankfully, before he can offer up any more gory details, we’re interrupted by some kind of commotion up by the cash. I can see Trish is there, big surprise, with a bunch of her minions. Whatever they’re doing, it’s really loud.

  Garret jerks his head in their direction. “What do you think is going on there?”

  I pretend like I’m intently studying the scene. “I can’t tell if they’re laughing or crying, so it could be one of two things. Either Harry Styles just got engaged, or someone scored a two-for-one coupon for a mani/pedi.”

  Laughing, he rips a chunk off his bagel. He slides an untouched piece toward me. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  He pulls back his piece of bagel. “So, um, we’re having our year-end football banquet this Saturday. Do you think you might want to go?”

  It takes a few seconds for the question to register. “With you?”

  “No. With my cousin, Brian. Of course with me!”

  I feel my cheeks burn. “Right, right. Don’t mind me. It’s, it’s…the throat medication.”

  He laughs again. “Okay. So is that a yes?”

  I fake a coughing fit to buy some time. We’ll be together in public. What about Trish? I take a deep breath and smile. “Yes, it’s a yes.” I’ll figure
something out.

  “Great.” He slaps the table. “I’ll let you know more when I get the details.”

  The bell rings and everyone starts getting up.

  If only I could split myself in two. One of me could deal with all the crap so the other me could be full-on excited about Garret asking me to his banquet.

  Not that I’m not excited. I’d just be so much more excited if I didn’t have this stuff with The Goodbye Girls hanging over my head. Plus I’m stressed about the “Trish factor.” Not to mention Willa and my mom, the homewrecker.

  I text Willa and tell her about Garret. She texts me back right away. If her texts had a voice, my ears would be bleeding. I’ve never seen so many exclamation points.

  * * *

  Mom’s at work when I get home, so my plan of hiding in my room and not talking to anyone is coming together perfectly. I don’t even have my coat off when my phone chirps. It’s a text from Willa. Get over here ASAP! At first I don’t panic too much. She probably has a dress she wants to show me for the banquet. I text her, What? She doesn’t reply. She never doesn’t reply.

  My stomach drops like a hundred-pound weight. She knows about Mom and Greg. Somehow she knows. Greg must have called her from Boston. How did she take it? Does she want to chew me out? Or maybe she doesn’t know I know, and wants to break it to me herself. Will she believe me when I tell her I was about to do the same thing? Guess I won’t know till I see her. I feel my body fill to the brim with dread, and re-button my jacket.

  Willa’s waiting for me at her front door and yanks me inside. “What were people saying at school?”