Goodbye from Nowhere

by Sara Zarr

  He watched Emily’s face, her newly visible and open face, and realized that she was becoming that person.

  10

  KYLE KEPT his head down, did his work, fell back into a routine. Got mostly caught up with school and showed up for what he was supposed to show up for. Nothing at home changed and he wanted to not think about it, but that was kind of impossible, given that he saw his parents every day. And he saw Nadia all the time at school and Coop and Mateo and basically daily life was one reminder after another of what had gone wrong. He was learning to live with it. And, if his day really started to sink or his thoughts got too wrapped around themselves, at least there was Emily.

  They traded gifs and songs and updates. He battled himself to not need her too much, no matter how anxious he got. It wasn’t easy, though, to resist the quick hit of comfort he got every time she texted him back.

  It was too painful to think about Nadia, and Emily lived in a different part of his mind from other girls, so he gave Angeline—the kid Jacob’s nanny or whatever—the job of fantasy girl in his imagination. She didn’t know anything about him, his life, his family. And he didn’t know anything about her. He’d only seen her a couple times since that first day, and only talked to her two sentences at a time. She showed zero interest in hearing or saying more, but it almost didn’t matter. Thinking she might be there in the bleachers any given day that he was there, and that she might be watching him, let him slip into a different skin and perform the role of the extra-patient and extra-fun guy. The kids liked it, and so did Coach Malone. And Emily said this was all going to look good on his college applications.

  “Baker,” Malone said now. “Take them on laps. I want to shuffle the positions before we scrimmage. Give some of these outfielders a chance to come in and learn not to be scared of the ball.”

  The kids groaned. Some about laps, some about being asked to actually play infield.

  “Aaaand that’s extra laps for the attitude,” Kyle said, and started to run at an easy pace around the perimeter of the field. He had no idea if Angeline was there or not. Usually she didn’t come until toward the end, if she came at all. Sometimes Jacob’s mom or dad picked him up, but Kyle had never met them because Jacob would just run off to their waiting car, whereas Angeline parked whenever she got there and watched the rest of practice. “High knees,” Kyle said, and turned around to make sure they were doing it.

  Ruby and Tatum were in the middle of the pack, laughing while they did their high knees.

  “See,” Kyle said, “Ruby and Tatum know how to have fun!”

  A couple of the boys looked, including Jacob, then pretended not to. Kyle remembered how at that age he didn’t want to actually be caught looking at a girl—not by the girl, but especially not by one of his friends.

  “Kyle, do you have a giiiiirlfriend?” Ruby asked, loud.

  “Nope! Okay, now run backward!”

  “Do you have a boyyyyyfriend?”

  “Nope!” He jogged backward in the opposite direction, until he was at the back of the pack, where a couple of the less athletic kids were dragging. “You got this. You’re doing great.” They weren’t, but in his lifetime on teams he’d seen enough kids put down for being slow or whatever that he knew the only thing it accomplished was making those kids hate sports, school, life.

  Jacob was usually in the middle, not the best or the worst. He seemed like the kind of kid who had trouble having fun, his face usually fixed with a grim but determined expression. Kyle jogged next to him. “What’s up, buddy?”

  “I’m running?”

  The way he said it made Kyle laugh, though he didn’t think Jacob was trying to be funny. “Yeah, me too. Good day at school?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You wanna steal a base today?”

  He slowed down, holding his side as if he had a stitch. “I don’t know.”

  Kyle sped up to the front. He found he slipped into this role easily, this coaching-ish thing, and liked it more than he’d thought he would. It was one place in his life that was simple and straightforward.

  He had them run normally again, and then sprint, then walk, and it was time to scrimmage. Angeline was there. White jeans, black tank top, her hair wrapped up in some kind of flowered scarf and, like always, the big sunglasses. She had a good view of Kyle in his first-base coaching position. Maybe today he’d say more than two words to her. Just to see how it felt.

  When Jacob came up to bat, he nailed a single. Kyle high-fived him at first. “We’re stealing, right?”

  “I’m too slow.”

  “It’d be fun, though.”

  Tatum, who was playing first base, said, “I can hear you.”

  “That’s fine. You should both be ready for it.” He said to Jacob, “If an opportunity comes, just go. Don’t wait for me to tell you, because then it will be too late. Read the pitcher.”

  Kyle was about to give Jacob a whole bunch more tips, but then the catcher dropped the ball and it rolled away behind him and Jacob was on the run. He wasn’t fast, but he didn’t need to be, because the catcher was still looking for the ball. “Oh my god,” Kyle said to Tatum, “he’s doing it!”

  “Go, Jacob!” she screamed.

  “Atta boy, atta boy!” Coach Malone was yelling.

  Kyle let himself glance over at Angeline. She smiled. At him? Or at Jacob’s steal?

  Throughout the rest of the practice, it seemed like she was watching him. Giving him signals. Then, at the end—yes, she was waving at him. Like, waving him over. He glanced at Malone, who was showing Ruby something about her swing. Kyle made it to the fence where Angeline stood.

  “Hey,” she said. Her upper arms in that tank top were cut. “Chris, right?”

  “Kyle.”

  “Sorry! Kyle.”

  “It’s fine.” He reached up and put his hand on the fence, stretched out as far as it would go, to seem taller. She was going to say something. Maybe about how she thought he was great with the kids, could tell he was a good person.

  “You know Jacob?” She pointed across the field.

  “Yeah, he’s awesome.”

  “His mom was supposed to get him today but she had an emergency, and his dad’s not answering, so she called me. But I have to be at my other job in like five minutes. I could stick him in an Uber, but he hates that.”

  “Oh . . .”

  “Anyway, his mom specifically asked me not to ask one of the other parents unless it’s a last resort. She’s asked them before.” Angeline paused. “She feels judged. But you’re not a parent.”

  He liked her voice. It had a hint of some accent, from another state or even maybe another country. If only she’d take off her sunglasses, he could feel the whole picture.

  “So, if you could give him a ride home? It’s not too far, but it’s in the other direction from where I have to be. I asked his mom, she said it’s okay.” Angeline held up her phone to show him the screen.

  Sometimes asking a favor was a way to flirt. But it seemed like this was just a plain favor.

  Jacob had come over to them with his backpack on, cradling his glove in one arm. “Where’s my mom?”

  “She got called in, sweetie. Kyle’s going to give you a ride.” She turned to Kyle and said, “Text me your number in case there’s an emergency or something.”

  “Okay, but don’t be blowing up my phone in the middle of the night,” Kyle teased.

  Finally the sunglasses came off. She gazed at him with a squint, and he got a long look at her eyes. Long enough, anyway, to see that Angeline had to be in her twenties. Maybe late twenties. “I won’t.”

  She told him her number, and he repeated it back to her while putting it in his phone. He sent her a text so she’d have his.

  “Got it,” she said, and put the glasses back on. “Thank you so much. See you later, kiddo.”

  Kyle wasn’t sure if by “kiddo” she meant him, or Jacob, or both.

  “All right, where are we going?” Kyle asked Jacob onc
e they were in the car.

  “You know where the Vons is? It’s near there.”

  “On Hollister? Yep. That’s near me, too.” He resisted grilling Jacob for all the details on Angeline. They talked about practice, about his awesome steal. “You saw the opportunity and you took it, man. It was perfect.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your mom is pretty busy, I guess?” And was cool with people she’s never met driving him home? Maybe the other parents should judge.

  “She’s an on-call surgeon.”

  “Wow. Legit.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Okay, maybe a little talk about Angeline. “So Angeline is, like . . .”

  “She’s been my babysitter since I was little. I mean, I’m too old for a babysitter now, but she helps out sometimes. My dad is supposed to be the one who drives me places because he works at home, except he sometimes has meetings and stuff, too.”

  “When I was your age, my sisters drove me everywhere and they hated it and I hated it.” Kyle made a turn. “So when you say you were little, you mean like six or something? And Angeline was your babysitter and she was . . . in junior high? Or high school?” He was trying to do the math on her probable age.

  “I don’t know. Turn left here.”

  Kyle signaled, turned.

  “Then make a right.”

  Snowdrop. “This is your street?”

  “Yeah. Up there near blue truck.”

  Electricity ran up Kyle’s spine as Jacob instructed him to pull over at 936 Snowdrop. “Right here? Nine thirty-six? That’s your house?”

  The house Kyle’s mom had come out of. The house with the man. The house with the man with the work-at-home job and the wife and the kid. The wife and the kid who didn’t know. The kid who was Jacob.

  Face hot, nerves zapping, he asked Jacob if anyone was home.

  “No, my dad’s car is gone.” He opened the door and looked back at Kyle. “Don’t worry. We have a dog. He barks at strangers.”

  A wife and a kid and a dog. Kyle wondered if the dog barked at his mom like it would at a stranger or if it wagged its tail for her by now. “Is your dad coming home soon?”

  Jacob shrugged. “I’m allowed to be home alone during the day. Thanks for the ride.”

  He got out and slammed the door and ran up the walk. Kyle wanted to yell after him, ask more questions, go inside, and . . . what? Ransack the house? Look for evidence? Evidence of what? His mom had already confessed to the whole thing. There was nothing to prove, nothing to confirm or deny. He’d seen his mom walk out of this house with his own eyes, and the guy worked at home and the wife had an important job that kept her busy, and he had a kid. All of which he already knew and could not unknow.

  His phone vibrated, startling the hell out of him.

  you dropped him off, right?

  It was Angeline.

  Yes, just now. His hands shook. Every time reality ran up on him like this, it was like finding out all over again. Every time.

  Thank you.

  He thought about saying You’re welcome or No problem or Hey, so is Jacob’s dad a good guy or are you aware of the adultery situation going on in this house? or Weird coincidence, Jacob’s dad and my mom are screwing.

  He sent back a thumbs-up and threw his phone into the cup holder.

  Fuck.

  11

  “KYLE? KYLE. What happened? Did someone die?”

  He’d called Megan. Megan, not Emily, because one, he’d laid enough shit on Emily that wasn’t her problem, and two, he remembered Emily’s text from when he’d almost told Megan the first time, telling him he should. She’s your sister!!

  As soon as he heard Megan’s voice, he started to lose it.

  “How come every time I call you, you think someone died? Can’t I just call you?”

  “Well, you call me and I can tell you’re crying, I mean.” She paused. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you back the other day?”

  He managed to say no, no one had died, but he needed to talk to her and he didn’t want to go home. “And I’m not fucking crying because you didn’t text me back.”

  “I know, I know. Sorry. Are you okay to drive? Breathe, Kyle.”

  He did. It helped. “Okay. I’m okay.”

  “Meet me at my apartment. I’ll text you the address so you can GPS it. It might take like forty-five minutes or more at this time of day. Are you okay to do that?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” He breathed again.

  “Kyle, whatever it is, it’ll be all right. Text me when you get here. The doorbell is broken.”

  He headed toward the 101 with just enough gas in the tank to make it.

  The road kept blurring

  Why, dude. What’s the matter with you.

  He kept, like, crying. He’d stop, calm down, then think about some moment. Like his dad and his four dumb words. Nadia saying, “And now I don’t trust you.” His mom laughing and so happy with the guy. Emily, when she called him out for acting like her hair belonged to him. Yeah, they ended that conversation okay, but when he relived it and thought about how ever since he’d been trying harder than she knew not to seem needy, keeping it light and tight when in fact he felt like this bottomless pit of need, all he could feel was shame.

  He wasn’t going to dump more of his garbage on her.

  That’s what sisters were for.

  By the time he got to Megan’s, he’d thought through the entire situation a hundred times—what Kyle knew that he shouldn’t know but other people should know, and how he’d let it all take so much away from him. No matter how he sliced it, it came to shit.

  Her building, which he’d never seen before, was one of those old California stucco apartment complexes with just two floors, maybe eight or ten units, a courtyard, a gate.

  I’m here.

  A few seconds later, the gate buzzed and unlatched. The door to unit five opened on the ground floor and Megan, wearing a tank top and pajama bottoms, let him in. “You cried the whole way here, didn’t you.”

  “No.”

  “You need a hug,” she said.

  “You hate hugs.”

  “I know.” She put her arms around him, and it felt simultaneously unnatural and necessary. She was shorter than him, but more substantial. She let go and pulled him to a ratty brown couch. “My roommate, Julie, is here, but she said she’d stay in her room awhile. And you can stay over. if you want. Sleep here.” She patted the threadbare couch cushion.

  “I have school tomorrow.”

  “Skip. Or get up super early and go.” She stood. “I’m going to have some wine. I know you probably only drink beer at your jock parties or whatever, but you can have some if you want.”

  “My jock parties? Are you a hundred years old? And do you know me?”

  “Whatever! I was never invited to those things, so I only know what I see in movies I can stream for free. I assume you wear letterman jackets and chant ‘Keg! Keg! Keg!’ while bikini babes ride around on inflatable dragons in the pool.”

  He laughed, which he knew was her goal. “Yeah, I’ll have some wine.”

  When she came back, she had a big glass with red wine nearly to the rim for her, and a teacup about one-third full for him. “Just enough to chill you out.” She settled into the corner of the couch with her feet up, staring at him.

  “You didn’t have to work one of your jobs tonight?” he asked.

  “I called in.”

  “Don’t you need the money, though? I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t worry about it, Kyle, okay? You didn’t ask to come here. I invited you. Have a sip of your wine and tell me what’s going on.”

  He took a sip, made a face. But liked the way the burn slipped over his tongue, down his throat, and landed in his stomach like an ember. It was actually his first drink since the night his dad had caught him after the party and put it in the vault.

  He stared into the teacup and told Megan everything.

  She didn’t interrupt or ask any questions.
She sat still, one elbow on the back of the couch. When he was done, she grabbed her phone off the upside-down laundry basket she was using as a coffee table.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. “Don’t tell anyone, don’t—”

  She held up a finger for him to stop talking. Waited a few seconds. “Dad?”

  “Shit, Megan!” he hissed.

  She made the zip-your-mouth sign. Kyle could hear his dad’s voice. “Mm-hmm,” Megan said. “I’m fine. Yeah, I know, whatever, but listen. I wanted to let you know Kyle’s with me, he’s staying over at my apartment tonight, and don’t worry about it.” She tapped the phone screen and put it back down.

  “What did he say?”

  “I don’t know. I hung up.” She curled her legs underneath her. “Okay. Kyle. So, you never noticed any problems with Mom and Dad before? Before all this?”

  He shrugged. “I mean, you know how they are.”

  “Yeah, I know how they are. But do you? That push-pull game they play?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like . . . one pushes the other away when they feel ignored, by working too much or being really fake and surface-y. Then the other pulls them back, like, to prove they really belong together. You know how I first noticed that? By watching high school couples when I was a sophomore.” She pinched her fingers together and punctuated each word with them. “High school couples, Kyle. Games.”

  He took the last couple sips of his wine. “I don’t see any pull happening. Only push.”

  “And then there’s the money thing. What they told you about how Mom is still at home because they can’t afford for her to have her own place? I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit. Mom and Dad are not poor. The have a huge house and two cars and a business and probably too much life insurance. And you have a car. And Taylor has a car. And they’re not making her work while she’s at school, like not even to pay her own phone bill. And I know you don’t pay yours.”

  “We’re on a family plan.”

  “So not the point, Kyle.” She leaned forward. “Yeah, they’re broke, or having a tough time at the moment or whatever. But they’re not poor. There’s a difference. They could sell it all and pay off their debts, live more simply, tell Taylor to get a job. . . .”