The Goodbye Girls

by Lisa Harrington

A belt slowly tightens around my chest, making it hard to breathe, but I hook my pinkie around hers anyway.

  After Trish leaves the kitchen, I sit there for a while. My heart rate finally slows and eventually goes back to normal. That wasn’t so bad. It went way better than I thought it would. No cuts or bruises, and I still have all my limbs. I did it. I told Trish the truth and it went well! I’m actually feeling a little empowered, on a bit of a roll. Maybe if I do the right thing and tell Willa about my mom and her dad it will go the same way—maybe it won’t be so bad either.

  I drum my fingers on the table. If I’m going to do it, I should do it now, before her dad does. They’re picking him up at the airport tonight, and if he’s planning to tell them, there’s a chance he might let it slip that I know. And shit. If Willa finds out that I already know and didn’t tell her, she’s going to be even madder about that than about my mom possibly destroying her family. I pull on my jacket and make a beeline for Willa’s house. On the way I practice my opening line: “You know that scarf you found in your dad’s closet? Funny story….”

  I’ll probably leave the “funny story” part out.

  When Willa opens the door I notice her eyes are all red and swollen. “Are you crying?” I ask.

  She sniffs and sweeps her fingers across her cheeks. “Come on in.” Her voice sounds hoarse.

  I follow her inside. “What’s wrong?” I brace for the answer.

  “It’s the airport. I don’t want to go. Like, why is he summoning both of us?” She sinks onto the couch. “I have such an ominous feeling about it. Every bone in my body is screaming that it’s going to be bad.”

  Before I can say anything, her chin drops to her chest and her shoulders start to shake. “Mom told Aunt Meredith that deep down she thinks Dad’s going to eventually come home. I heard her on the phone.” She looks up at me. “I really, really want her to be right.”

  I sit next to her and wrap my arm around her.

  “But what if she’s wrong? What if tonight he’s telling us that he’s in love or something? Or that he’s getting married?” Willa sobs. “What about my mom? What about me and Sean? What if this homewrecker has kids? He’ll have a whole new family.”

  I can see the tears plopping on Willa’s jeans, leaving dark stains. I sit there hugging her until her sobs subside a bit. Then I feel her tense up. “Doesn’t she know my parents are still technically married? What kind of desperate loser starts dating a married man? She’s either a gold digger or an idiot. Or both. God! I haven’t even met her yet and I already hate her.” Willa’s voice is getting louder, trembling with rage and sadness.

  There goes my plan. There’s no way I can tell her, not right now anyway.

  “You might be getting ahead of yourself,” I say, fighting to keep my tone even and calm. “You don’t know if he’s going to say anything like that.” He’d better not say anything like that.

  “Yeah.” Willa takes a deep breath and reaches for the box of Kleenex on the table. “Sorry.”

  I tighten my arm around her. “Don’t be silly. Nothing to be sorry about.” Trust me. You’re not the one who should be sorry.

  “It’s just that I know my parents should get back together. They have to. They need a little time, that’s all. Only I’m scared that someone’s going to get in the way before they get a chance to work it out. I’m a total emotional basket case.” She blows her nose. “Ha. Get it? I said basket.”

  “Ha.” I try to smile.

  She wads up her Kleenex. “I didn’t even ask why you’re here.”

  “Oh, I, uh.” My eyes dart around the room. “Actually, I thought I might have left my Science binder here, but actually I think it might actually be in my locker.” Shut up! Stop saying actually!

  “You sure? I can check upstairs.”

  “I’m sure.” I stand. “I should run back to the school…”

  She nods and we both walk to the door.

  “Maybe text me when you get back from the airport,” I say. “Let me know how things go.”

  “Sure,” she says, clutching the box of Kleenex.

  It’s a long five hours, but I finally get a text from Willa.

  He didn’t say a word. He was acting weird but that’s normal for him lately. Sorry for all the drama about nothing. Got my doomed & Burke bag. Yay!

  Then: *Dooney.

  I stare at the screen for what seems like an hour. I’m feeling relieved and sick to my stomach at the same time. If he didn’t tell her, I really should. Why didn’t he tell her? I finally text back, Awesome. What else can I say?

  Chapter 23

  I’m upstairs doing homework when I hear the doorbell ring. Mom’s at work. I’m not sure where Trish is. I get up and lean over the top of the stairs. There’s banging in the kitchen. “Trish?” I holler.

  “Yeah?”

  “The door! Get the door!”

  “Got it.”

  I sit back down at my desk. A few seconds later there’s a mind-numbing screech that makes me drop my pencil. I push back my chair and run downstairs. When I get to the front hall, I stop short. Trish is sitting on the floor by the door. My eyes do a sweep, trying to process the scene, then my heart does a little lurch. Is that a breakup basket? But instantly I know it isn’t. It’s one of those other baskets.

  “Look,” she whispers.

  Holding my breath, I go over and kneel beside her.

  “Look,” she repeats, holding each basket item up one at a time.

  There’s a package of diapers, a plastic baby bottle, a pacifier, a jar of baby food, baby wipes, a pregnancy test with “positive” written on the box in red marker. She stops pulling things out when she gets to the pamphlet on Planned Parenthood.

  I can’t believe what I’m seeing. “Oh my god, Trish.”

  “Why? Why would they do this to me?” she says. “Again.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “Those stupid Goodbye Girls!” she spits.

  But it wasn’t! “Maybe they didn’t, though.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure it couldn’t be someone else?”

  “Look!” She points.

  There’s a Goodbye Girl’s tag hanging off the handle. It looks exactly like one of ours. What the hell is going on?

  “And why would you even say that?” she rants. “It’s obviously them!”

  “I don’t know,” I shrug. “On their website it says that they have nothing to do with these baskets. At least that’s what I heard,” I quickly add.

  “Yeah, right.” She sits back on her heels. “Why are you defending them?”

  “I’m not. At all. Really.” I backpedal. “But why would they lie?”

  “Um.” She gives me that look like I’m a moron. “Because they’re trying to cover their asses. They want to rake in the dough without getting a bad rep.” She tosses the pamphlet she’s been holding back into the basket. “These Goodbye Girls, they better hope no one finds out who they really are. They’ll be crucified.”

  I don’t bother suggesting again that The Goodbye Girls is not at fault. Instead I say, “Trish, you must have some idea of who’d be out to get you.”

  She covers her face with her hands. Her whole body starts to tremble. “No. Nothing this mean.” After a moment she looks up at me and wipes her nose on the cuff of her hoodie. “I feel sick.”

  “Here.” I slip my arm under hers. “Let me get you to the bathroom.”

  She snatches her arm back. “Not that kind of sick! I feel sick because it has to be someone I know! I mean it has to be, right?”

  I don’t say anything. We both sit on the floor for a few more minutes.

  Finally she gets to her feet. Drawing a shaky breath, she scoops up the basket and heads for the stairs. I follow, licking my suddenly dry lips. In her room, she chucks the basket on the floor then kicks it into her closet.


  “Trish,” I say, wringing my hands. There’s a huge guilty knot in the pit of my stomach. “Can I do anything?”

  She spins around. “Promise you won’t tell anyone,” she says urgently. “I’d just die of embarrassment.”

  “I swear,” I say, shaking my head. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Because everyone found out about Olivia and Allan right away….” She wipes her nose again.

  That’s because they stupidly posted it on Facebook.

  “Like I said, I swear I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Thanks.” She collapses onto her bed. “I think I wanna be alone right now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m just going to lie down and contemplate the slow painful death of whoever did this.”

  “Okay.” Before I leave, I have to ask. “Trish. You’re not pregnant, right?”

  Her eyes narrow and something flashes across her face. “No. I’m smart enough to not get myself pregnant.”

  “Sorry.” I clear my throat. “Didn’t mean to imply—”

  “No, I know,” she says. “It’s fine.”

  By the start bell the next morning, everybody at school knows about Trish’s pregnancy basket. I see her leave through a side door as I make my way to first class.

  Bradley! Get the frig back to school!

  Chapter 24

  Willa erases what seems like an entire page of math problems, then blows the eraser dust all over my dining room table. “We’re still getting orders,” she says. “Even though it says right in bold print that we’re not taking any. It’s like they can’t read.”

  My phantom ulcer flares up again, as it does any time I hear or think about the business. I’ve been popping Tums like Tic Tacs.

  “It’s funny, we’re also getting orders for ‘revenge’ baskets,” she adds. “At least that’s what they’re calling them now.”

  “Not funny,” I say.

  “No, I know. It’s just that you have to marvel. Like, why can’t they get it through their heads that it’s not us? I’m actually offended that they’d think a nice little business like ours would sink so low.”

  “I really want to find out who’s behind it all.”

  “I know.” She nods. “We’re stuck until Bradley comes back to school. How’s Trish, by the way?”

  “She was pretty upset. She went in this morning, but came right home.”

  “Wow. She’s had a rougher go than most. Two baskets.”

  Sighing, I sweep Willa’s eraser mess over the edge of the table. I still feel guilty for everything that Trish is going through. The breakup basket and now this.

  “Oh, shoot.” Willa slaps her hand on the table. “I meant to bring my new purse to show you. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I say and get out my own sheet of math problems.

  “I think that was the reason he wanted us to come to the airport—purely for gift giving,” Willa says, sounding all happy. “He got Sean a fabulous Fossil messenger bag. And—” she points her pencil at me—“I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this. When we were at his apartment and he was unpacking to get mine and Sean’s presents, I saw a Kate Spade box.”

  “Oh?” I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.

  “Mom loves Kate Spade. It’s really hard to get here. So whenever Dad travelled to the States, he’d always bring her back a piece of jewellery or something.”

  A little hiccup catches in my throat. “O-Oh?” I repeat. Mom was sporting a new pair of earrings this morning, but I couldn’t ask her about them on account of us not speaking. Way to be original, Greg.

  “Yeah,” Willa continues. “Maybe this other chick was totally just a mid-life crisis thing, or, like, a random hookup, and he’s ready to, you know, mend fences or something? Maybe it’s like an olive branch for Mom.”

  I make my face mirror the excitement in hers. “Yeah. Maybe.” I want to crawl in a hole and die.

  “I can’t believe I got so worked up about it. I know everything’s gonna be fine.” She reaches over and grabs my arm. “What if he comes back home by Christmas?”

  “I…uh…uh…I’m really cold. Do you want some hot chocolate?”

  “Sure, sure. That’d be great,” she says, lost in her dreamy, happy-family thoughts.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter under my breath as I turn on the kettle and measure chocolate powder into mugs.

  Someone is crashing around in the front hall. I stick my head out the doorway. It’s just Trish. The whistle blows on the kettle and I return to my hot chocolate.

  “Hey, Willa,” I hear Trish say.

  “Hey,” Willa says back.

  “Guess I better get used to seeing you around here a lot more, huh?”

  I tilt my head while I stir in the boiling water. What’s that supposed to mean?

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Willa says.

  “Well, now that your dad’s dating our mom. I mean, wouldn’t it be something if they got married?”

  My spoon clatters to the floor and I run into the dining room. “Trish!” I yell.

  Willa’s eyebrows are knit together. “What are you talking about?” she says to Trish.

  “We could be one of those blended families,” Trish says, ignoring me. “All livin’ together under the same roof. Maybe we’ll get our own reality show.”

  Willa looks over at me, her face white as a ghost. “Lizzie. What is she talking about?”

  I open my mouth but no words come out. It’s like the air’s been sucked out of my lungs.

  “Wait.” Trish takes a couple steps backward. “Do you not know?” she says to Willa, then she turns to me. “You didn’t tell her?”

  Willa shoves back her chair and stands. “Is she saying that your mom and my dad are…” She holds up both hands. “No. Don’t answer. I don’t want to know.”

  “Willa.” I finally find my voice. “I wanted so badly to tell you, but—”

  “And you knew?” she says, giving me a horrified look. “How could you not say anything to me?”

  “In Lizzie’s defence,” Trish says, “she’s only known for about a week.”

  “A week?!” Willa shouts.

  “Shut up, Trish!” I scream. It’s only been five days, but the damage is done.

  Trish tiptoes backward out of the room. “I’ll just let you two sort it out.”

  “Willa. I really did want to tell you,” I say. “But Mom didn’t want me to. She—”

  “So?! So what if your mom didn’t want you to?!”

  “She thought your dad should be the one,” I frantically try to explain. “But I told her if he didn’t tell you soon, like after his trip, I was going to tell you no matter what.”

  “Well, he obviously didn’t tell me,” she says sarcastically. “So what’s your excuse?”

  “I, I tried. I really did. I tried before he came home, when I came over before you went to the airport. But you were so upset about the ‘homewrecking gold digger,’ and your mom, and all the hypotheticals, I—I chickened out.”

  She pinches her lips together and starts violently packing up her papers and textbooks. “I can’t believe you did this. You knew! You knew how I wanted them to get back together.”

  “Willa,” I plead, “that’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

  She slings her knapsack over her shoulder and glares at me. “You knew it wasn’t going to happen, and you just let me believe it would. Your mom’s delusional, you know. Why would he stay with her instead of my mom? My mom is a successful businesswoman. Once she pulls herself together again he’ll remember what he’s missing.” She pauses. “And honestly, if he doesn’t come home, I doubt he’s going to stay with someone the same age as him. He’ll be looking to upgrade.”

  “Willa,” I try again.
>
  “Don’t even.” She brushes past me. A second later I hear the front door slam.

  I slowly lower myself onto the closest dining chair and rest my head face down on my folded arms.

  There’s the sound of footsteps. “I’m really sorry,” Trish says. I feel her hand on my back.

  “How could you just come out and say something like that?” I say into the tabletop.

  “How was I supposed to know she didn’t know? I mean, seriously.”

  “Yeah, well, she didn’t.”

  She snorts. “I don’t know what’s so bad about it. When I found out, I thought it was kind of cool. Can you imagine Sean as our stepbrother?”

  I lift my head, exasperated. “What’s bad about it is that Willa thinks I kept it from her.”

  “Um…you did, didn’t you?”

  “Gee, thanks, Trish. Could you just go? You’ve done enough damage for one day.” I drop my head back onto my arms.

  She sits down beside me. “Look. I meant it when I said I was sorry. I had no idea.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “And she’ll get over it. I mean, she had to find out sometime, didn’t she?”

  I keep my head down but manage a shrug.

  “Give her a chance to cool down.”

  “I just wish she hadn’t found out like this,” I say again into the tabletop.

  “I know,” Trish says soothingly.

  I look up. “Why are you being nice?”

  “I kind of feel like it’s my fault.”

  “It is your fault. It’s 100 percent your fault.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “May I remind you, you’re the one who kept it from her.”

  My head slams back against the table. “You’re right,” I whisper.

  “How’s this,” Trish says brightly. “Since I’m partly to blame, let me help you get ready for Garret’s banquet. It’s tomorrow night, right? I just watched this YouTube video on applying makeup. You can be my guinea pig. I promise I’ll make you look drop-dead.”

  “I don’t even wanna go anymore,” I mumble. I feel like my world has bottomed out.