You Say Goodbye

by Keith Steinbaum

  “Well, it’s none of my business, but be careful.”

  Jenny nodded. “I know,” she told him, “but I’m not looking for a relationship. Just some company and a little fun once in a while.”

  “Did you meet him here?”

  “No, not here,” she answered, pushing some loose strands of hair back under her cap. “I met him at a software convention a few weeks ago. Stan was hired to work the room and when he told me he’d seen me somewhere before, I thought it was just a stupid pick-up line. But when he mentioned the volunteer work he does here between his magic stuff, I figured I’ve donated enough things that he was telling the truth.”

  “Has Stan met Stephanie, yet?” he asked. “She’s going to be seeing him here.”

  Jenny shook her head. “This will only be our second date, and he asked me not to say anything to anybody right now for obvious reasons.” Her eyes widened as a large grin appeared on her face. Sean found her pronounced dimples appealing. “I forgot to tell you one other thing that Adam told me,” she said. “He’s taking magic lessons from Stan.”

  “That’s cool. Maybe he’ll do some card tricks for Jesus at the Second Coming.”

  Jenny smiled, but wagged her finger at Sean. “That was naughty,” she said. “Apparently, they met at a party, and Adam got hooked after Stan performed some magic.”

  Sean remembered that night at Marissa’s quite well.

  “I can see it now,” he said. “Saint Adam McBride and his Magic Carpet Ride.”

  Jenny giggled. “The last thing he said to me before we left the restaurant was how much he’d like to show me the tricks he’s learned.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess that means another secret rendezvous with Saint Adam McBride.”

  Chapter 19

  Rocco sipped a beer as his right leg dangled over the armrest of Sean’s living room chair. Watching and listening as his friend finished tuning an acoustic guitar, he remembered how he marveled at the dexterity and fluidity exemplifying his mastery of playing during their band days. Although his problems with Sean’s ego and temper during that time remained an unpleasant memory, his past resentment never overshadowed the fact that the man handled his six-string with the talent of a true pro--moving his fingers like a ten-legged dancer, leaping and soaring in harmony and rhythm.

  “You were made to play that thing,” he told him. “I came here to tell you in person that I want you back at my place as long as you behave, but even if you never play there again, at least don’t give it up, okay?”

  Sean kept his head down, turning the peg for the B string. “This old acoustic was always one of my favorites.” Clutching the guitar by the neck, he placed it next to him on the couch. “And now I’m going to surprise Kayleigh with it.”

  Rocco’s eyes widened. “Wow, that’s actually a nice thing to do,” he exclaimed. “This is all too confusing for me. Will the real Sean Hightower please stand up?”

  With a middle finger acknowledgment of the comment, Sean shook his head and chuckled. “Fuck you, Rocco.”

  “Now that’s the Sean Hightower I know!”

  “To answer your question, you sarcastic asshole, I know this will make the kid real happy, okay? That’s all you need to know.”

  “Too bad you never had a daughter,” Rocco said. “They steal your heart from the moment you first hold them.”

  “In Kayleigh’s case, it’s probably been as much breaking of the heart as stealing it,” he replied. “Whenever I look at that sick kid’s face smile at me...” Grabbing his bottle, Sean took a swig and turned away, staring through the sun-speckled window. “You know, Rocco,” he said softly, “life’s a fucking bitch.”

  Rocco chuckled.

  As if on a swivel, Sean’s head spun back to look at him with narrow, uncomprehending eyes. “What are you laughing at? There’s nothing funny about that at all.”

  Rocco held up both hands in mock defense. “Jesus, Sean,” he exclaimed, “I know that! I’m just amazed at how this kid seems to have changed you, and definitely for the better, I might add. Suddenly, the Tin Man has a heart!”

  Pretending to sneeze, Sean replayed an old band joke by rearing his head, closing his eyes, and placing the back of his hand against his mouth. “Fuuuuuck you!”

  Rocco reacted with a new response, repeating the same motions. “Iiiiit’s true!”

  Sean smiled, shrugged, and glanced at the clock. “I don’t know if she’s home, but I’m going there now. Want to come?”

  “I really should go,” he replied, “but I’ve never seen a real-life Beauty and the Beast.”

  Sean extended his arm toward Rocco, offering another middle finger response before attempting to rise from the couch. Grabbing his hip, he gritted his teeth and groaned. “Dammit!” he muttered.

  “That arthritis you talked about?” Rocco asked.

  Sean straightened up in a slow, balloon-filling manner. Grimacing at Rocco, he exhaled slowly and nodded. “I’m telling you, man, life’s a bitch.”

  Approaching the front yard of the Michaels’ house, Sean spotted Stephanie’s black Nissan Altima in the driveway. When they arrived at the front door, he held the guitar case in his left hand and rang the doorbell. After waiting for about a minute, he pushed the button again.

  “Doesn’t look like anybody’s home,” Rocco said.

  Sean kept his eyes on the door several moments longer. “I guess not,” he answered.

  Walking away, they both heard the sudden sound of the door unlocking. Turning back, Sean looked into the misty and puffy-eyed face of a disheveled Stephanie Michaels. She wore no makeup, and portions of her hair tumbled out from a Dodgers cap. Leaning against the half-opened door, she clutched the side with both hands and offered a small smile of recognition.

  “Hello, Sean,” she said, her raspy voice closer to a whisper. Redirecting her gaze toward Rocco, she said, “Hi.”

  Offering a quick wave, he said, “I’m Rocco.”

  Sean noticed Stephanie’s eyes veer toward the guitar case.

  “Was she supposed to have a lesson today? I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  Sean took a few steps closer. “No lesson, Stephanie,” he said. “I just want to give this to Kayleigh.”

  Holding the case from underneath as if presenting a gift on a platter, he encouraged her to hold it. With a tentative motion, Stephanie reached out to grasp it, allowing Sean to unlock the latch and show her the guitar inside. In a simultaneous reaction, tears welled and a full smile flashed forth as her bloodshot eyes moved up and down the instrument like fingers on the strings. Wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, and then again with her palm, she handed the guitar back to Sean without saying a word for several moments before choking back a sob. “This is so nice of you.”

  “If now isn’t a good time, I can always come back later.”

  A barely audible chuckle preceded her answer. “It’s either a very good time or a very bad one.” Stephanie nibbled her upper lip and looked back over her shoulder before opening the door further. “Come in and I’ll explain.”

  The curtains remained drawn most of the way, leaving the house in a darkened state. Stephanie led them to the same room where they watched the Laker games, including the game-six loss to the Celtics for the championship. As if reading his mind, she said, “It took a lot of consoling, computer time, and an extra scoop of her favorite ice cream to dry her tears after that last game. But...” The tears formed again and fell from her eyes. Two-handing them from her cheeks, she shook her head and continued. “That night was nothing compared to what we go through, what she goes through, with the chemo treatments. We hoped she was finished with them, but the doctor felt she needed another round. That’s where we were this morning.”

  “How’s she doing?” Sean asked.

  “For her sake, let’s hope she’s sleeping,” Stephanie said, her bitterness reflected in her tone, “because it’s Hell on Earth for my little girl after the chemo.”

  “I think we should go, Stephanie
,” Sean said. “I’ll give Kayleigh her present when she’s feeling better.” He looked at Rocco and received a nod of agreement.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she told him, “but if she’s awake and having a few decent moments, your gift could be exactly what she needs.”

  Jason Michaels, Stephanie’s husband, called out from Kayleigh’s bedroom. “Steph,” he cried, “need your help!”

  Stephanie rushed away without looking back. Sean and Rocco stood motionless as the jumbled sounds of Kayleigh’s moans, vomiting, and cries permeated their room.

  “We shouldn’t be here, Sean,” Rocco said. “Let’s go.”

  Sean’s face flushed with heat and his eyes watered as he placed the guitar on the floor and listened to the agony of his little friend. “In a minute,” he replied. “I’ll be right back.”

  Viewing the scene through the partial opening of her door, he watched in helpless, gut-wrenching sorrow as Kayleigh’s father held the vomit bags while Stephanie cradled her daughter’s shoulders. Kayleigh’s eyes rolled upward in her swollen sockets and her mouth remained open between each regurgitation. Her cries sliced him up inside, a slashing combination of pain and suffering--a branding iron image seared in his mind.

  Another sound from behind caught his attention. Looking back, he realized Rocco left and closed the door. Glancing back toward the nightmarish scene from Kayleigh’s room for another few moments, he turned away for good, grabbing the guitar case as he rushed toward the door, knowing he didn’t belong there.

  Sean spotted Rocco, his back toward him, staring at the sky from the sidewalk in front of his house. As he approached him, his friend remained immobile--a statue in blue jeans and black leather jacket. Sean lowered the case to the ground and covered his face with his hands, leaving them there like a mask. Dropping his arms, he gazed into the vast nothingness of the blacktop in the street, inhaling deeply before blowing the air out in a gust of anger and distress.

  Rocco’s voice, soft and pensive, penetrated the silence. “I was raised to believe in a compassionate God,” he said.

  Sean glanced at him continuing to look skyward before returning his own vision toward the ground.

  “But how do I justify those teachings when that kind of shit can happen to a little girl?”

  When Sean lifted his eyes from the street, he saw that Rocco’s gaze now zeroed in on him.

  “You’re right about something, Sean,” he said. “Life is a bitch. But compared to what we just witnessed in there, how the hell would you know?”

  Chapter 20

  Two days before the Saturday night fundraiser and four more before he returned to work, Sean sat by his pool in the late afternoon, waiting for Roger and Anita. New employee handbooks needed to be reviewed and insurance forms filled out before Monday, so Roger offered to bring them to Sean’s house, explaining to him over the phone that he and Anita had a five o’clock appointment not far from there.

  Sipping on a beer, he gazed at a group of clouds braided like a horizontal question mark, symbolizing the instability of his current reality. Merissa’s killer remained at large, he didn’t write or even play music anymore, and he didn’t have much of a social life. A slow nod of his head followed the realization that a chance to sell cars offered a welcome distraction and an opportunity to relieve the boredom.

  The blues guitar cell phone ring redirected his thoughts back to the present moment.

  “Hightower here,” he answered, “but Roger isn’t.”

  “We’re pulling up now,” Roger replied. “You still in the back?”

  “Yep, side gate’s open.”

  Sean heard the car approach and the motor cut off. Glancing at the time on his phone, he wondered why Roger needed to leave work early. Anita walked through the gate first, followed by Roger, apparently texting a message to someone. After a few moments spent greeting Hendrix, Anita approached Sean.

  “Hi there, stranger” she said, extending her arms as he rose from the chair.

  “Good to see you, Anita,” he told her as they hugged.

  “Well, well, well,” Roger said, waving his hand toward the pool and then toward Sean’s attire. “The retired life suits you, my friend.”

  “That’s a shame,” he replied. “On Monday, I’ll be back offering summer deals and hoping the AC works on test drives.”

  Roger handed Sean the pamphlet. “Here you go, buddy, for your reading pleasure.”

  “Can I offer you something to drink?” Sean asked, looking at Anita.

  “No thanks. We can’t stay that long.” Looking at the time on her watch, she lifted her eyes toward Roger. “In fact, we only have about five minutes.”

  Roger inhaled, nodded, and released the air in an extended exhale. “Okay, babe.”

  “Are those insurance forms in here?” Sean asked, thumbing through the pages.

  Roger closed his eyes and shook his head, followed by a small chuckle. “Not when they’re in my jacket pocket which happens to be in the backseat of my car.”

  After a few moments spent staring in her husband’s direction as he hurried through the gate, Anita’s eyes followed Hendrix trotting back from that direction. She dropped to one knee and petted him in silence before rising again to look at Sean.

  “I’ve known you a long time, you know that?” she asked. “Rebecca and I were close friends in high school and you were her little brother who always liked to show off on the guitar.”

  Sean chuckled. “You could have been my first groupie.”

  Anita smiled, betrayed by eyes reflecting an obvious sadness.

  “Something wrong, Anita?”

  Staring at Hendrix, she answered Sean as if speaking to the dog. “I don’t know how much you know about our marriage,” she said, fiddling with her wedding ring, “but it hasn’t been the smoothest journey, believe me.” She looked at Sean, biting her lip in momentary silence. “We were even separated for a while.” Turning away, she wiped a tear from her eye. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he replied.

  Taking a deep breath, she continued. “It took a while, but we’re finally meeting with a marriage counselor today.” Imparting a partial smile, seemingly wistful, her shoulders rose and dropped with a resigned shrug. “I still love him. Even with the cheating, I still love him.”

  Sean reached out to touch her shoulder. “You’re a good woman, Anita.”

  Anita uttered a quick, sarcastic sounding laugh. “Sorry, Sean,” she said, “I appreciate that, I really do, but those were the exact words I remember hearing from Roger, and I apologize for bringing this up, the morning we found out about Merissa.” She shook her head, staring at the ground for several moments before looking up again and then turning away to gaze into the pool. “He came home really late the night before, sometime after two. He had called me from work, telling me he was meeting up with some fraternity brothers for dinner and drinks, but something about the tone of his voice didn’t seem right, didn’t sound sincere. So that next morning, maybe because I felt so angry and sad after hearing about Merissa, I finally had the strength to confront him."

  Anita’s look seemed distant, her mouth tightening and her jaw growing rigid as she stared into Sean’s eyes. “He admitted everything. But the most painful thing he told me was his final words before leaving for work.” A tear fell from her eyes. “He said, ‘You’re a good woman.’”

  Under normal circumstances, Anita’s reference to Merissa’s death may have wounded him, or embarrassed him after his botched attempt to sooth her with his comment, or perhaps make him feel uncomfortable by his exposure to her hurtful honesty, but after her remark about Roger’s absence from the house that night until two o’clock, he couldn’t help but wonder about a possible connection. Roger claimed he returned to his house around eleven after fucking his dental hygienist, but Anita said it was three hours later. Why did he lie? Was he trying to make Sean think he developed a conscience by coming home in time to kiss his wife goodnight? A little nobility to dilute the sle
aze?

  Or was there another reason?

  Chapter 21

  As planned, Elliot greeted the Michaels family at four-thirty, two hours before the guests were due to arrive. Sean arranged a final dress rehearsal at five o’clock with the three children, but got there at the same time because Kayleigh wanted to drive in his car. Dressed in a made-for-Los-Angeles-summer light gray suit and charcoal gray silk shirt with burgundy-hued tie, Elliot looked the part of a persuasive and charming pony-tailed fundraising host. After shaking hands with Jason, Stephanie, and Randy, he knelt in front of Kayleigh and extended his hands. With the right one he shook her hand, and with the left he held a gardenia flower with a safety pin on the back.

  “This is for you, sweetie,” he told her. “Smells great, huh?”

  Kayleigh held the flower in her open palm, dipping her nose for a couple of extended sniffs as her face disappeared under the brim of her Lakers cap.

  “What do you say, Kayleigh?” Jason asked.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking at her mother as Stephanie pinned the flower near her collar.

  Elliot placed a gentle hand on her head. “Well, Kayleigh,” he said, “how about that tour I promised you and your family?”

  “What about the magic show?” she asked, her pale, peering face resembling a low rising moon.

  Elliot smiled down and winked. “Don’t you worry about that, okay? We’re saving the best for last. Amazing Stan the Magic Man is looking forward to giving all of you a private show before everybody gets here.”

  “Awesome!” Randy shouted.

  Kayleigh giggled, her eyes transforming into slits as her pallid cheeks wrinkled like a deflated white balloon.

  “Come on, everybody, we better get going,” Elliot said, glancing at his watch. “Sean, feel free to join us, but your singers will be here in less than thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll wait in the music room,” he answered.