Goodbye from Nowhere

by Sara Zarr

  Ten years ago there would have been bedtime reading and kisses good night.

  Where had it all gone? When a family falls apart, where does the old family go?

  “Dad,” Kyle said. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. Only that he wanted to keep talking while he had his dad, had him sitting still and paying attention.

  “Go ahead. Tell me what a chicken I am. Tell me how I’m weak and letting you down. Tell me I need to fish or cut bait.”

  “Yeah, all of that stuff, but—”

  “Tell me again what you know about being married for thirty years.” His dad stood up, grabbed a pizza box.

  “God, Dad, I just want to know, like . . . is this who we are now?”

  “I hope not, Kyle, and that’s why I’m paralyzed, okay? Because I really really hope not.”

  Later, he texted Emily.

  just kind of had it out with my dad

  In a good way? she asked. Like do you feel better?

  Not really. crazy-face emoji. but I’m okay, he added, before she could feel like he wanted her to fix it.

  You’re really going through a lot this year, Kyle. I’m sorry.

  He stared at that. The acknowledgment meant everything. Sometimes that’s all he wanted or needed through every little and big shitty thing. For someone to say, “Hey, that’s a lot, that must be hard.”

  But he guessed he couldn’t expect people—Nadia, Mateo, Coop—to say it if they didn’t know. He didn’t want to be like his dad, with this situation or anything else, keeping it all in and putting a bunch of work and pizza on top of it and hoping that things he wanted to change would magically change.

  Kyle wanted to be the kind of person who could tell people things, and have the kind of people in his life he could tell them to. Like Emily.

  THANK YOU, he wrote back. The words seemed totally inadequate. He wrote them again anyway. Seriously, thank you.

  14

  HIS MOM got back the next day, Saturday, midday. Taylor was coming home for the summer on Monday, and his mom was anxious about it—cleaning the house in ways she hadn’t for months, runnings errands, stocking the fridge. Probably realizing how much harder it was going to be to keep her affair from Taylor.

  That afternoon, Kyle cleaned the koi-less koi pond in the backyard. No one has asked him to, but it was covered in slime and he was sick of looking at it, sick of all the little things suffering neglect for so long. His mom came out into the yard as he was finishing up.

  “Thanks for doing that,” she said.

  He didn’t want to talk to her. Not at all.

  “Maybe we can try having actual koi again,” she said.

  Why bother? he wanted to ask. Why bother with koi, why bother with small talk?

  “Listen, Kyle—”

  He laughed, bent down to move the hose.

  “What?” she asked.

  “It’s just funny how you only talk to me when you want to make sure I’m not spilling the tea on you.” When he stood up and saw her face, he knew he’d pitched it right down the middle. That she’d been about to be like Remember, don’t tell Taylor or some shit like that.

  “I mean, do you miss me, Mom? Do you miss talking to me about, like, projects you’re working on for the business or about the Rams or about school?”

  She was supposed to say, “Yes, yes, Kyle, I miss all of that.” But she folded her arms across her body and fixed her eyes somewhere below his. After a few seconds, she said softly, “Do you remember when you first got together with Nadia? She was all you thought about, the only person you wanted to see. Did you miss other things while that was happening? Maybe now that it’s all over, you do. Maybe you look back and—”

  “I’m seventeen, Mom. She was my first girlfriend. You’re supposed to have this figured out. You dated around and found Dad and married him and you’re supposed to just . . .” He didn’t know what.

  “Just never have feelings again? Just never experience anything new?”

  “You’re hurting people.”

  “I don’t think anyone can get through life without hurting people, Kyle. We’re all fundamentally selfish, when it comes down to it.”

  “That’s so weak,” he muttered. “Go ahead and say what you came out here to say in the first place.” He crouched down to rearrange some rocks. “I know. Don’t tell Taylor.”

  “With her coming home, I’m moving out of Megan’s room and back into the master bedroom with Dad. Taylor will probably know something is off, but she’s had a tough first year of college, and I think she really needs home to be what she’s used to.”

  “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

  “I realize I can’t force you to not tell her what you know. Think of it as a strong request. A lot is in the balance, a lot of . . . well, a lot.”

  “Mom, I know.”

  I know what’s in the balance. I met the wife. I know the kid. I’ve seen the guy. You and the guy. He stood up and brushed his hands off on his jeans.

  “Your judgment is all I can handle, Kyle.” Her eyes were pleading now. “Knowing you know and that you judge me is enough. Megan already judges me so much that it hardly matters. But Taylor . . .” Her voice cracked. “Taylor still likes me. She’s the last one of us who does.”

  He felt bad for her. He hated feeling bad for her. He wanted to feel bad for himself and for his dad and for Jacob and everyone else.

  “I can’t promise,” he said. “Not to tell her.”

  She sounded small when she answered, “I understand.”

  “Okay, Tatum-Tot, come on. Watch the bat hit the ball.”

  They were working on batting, working on reading pitches. Kind of scrimmaging but not really paying attention to the counts. Kyle clapped his hands, feeling like every cliché of a coach ever as Tatum swung and missed. She’d been swinging at everything and only making weak contact at best, and now it was late and the sun was making a blazing halo around everyone on the field. She probably couldn’t see a thing.

  Jacob was at catcher. Kyle went over to him, holding his hand up so the pitcher would wait. “Hey,” he said, still having trouble actually saying Jacob’s name. “You can take a break, I got this.” Jacob silently handed Kyle the catcher’s mitt. Watching, Kyle felt. Turning his bullshit radar on and having it go wild every time he saw Kyle.

  Kyle crouched behind Tatum. “I know the sun’s in your eyes, but you gotta pretend it isn’t. Pick out your spot and wait for your pitch. If it’s not right where you want it to be, just let it go by.”

  “But what if it’s a strike?”

  “Unless you have two strikes, it doesn’t matter. Another strike and another opportunity to hit is better than a pop-out, right?”

  She got into her stance, and he held up the mitt. The next pitch was as sunburned as the last, but low. Tatum let it pass.

  “Good eye.”

  Another pitch came in a little high, but in the strike zone, and she let it go by. That was when a corner of a small cloud moved over the sun, just enough that both Kyle and Tatum could stare right into the next pitch and see it was coming in over the middle of the plate. She connected, and the ball sailed right into the left center field gap, closest to Isaac, a gangly kid who had never once played a ball cleanly as far as Kyle could tell.

  “There we go, there we go!” he shouted. “Now we’re having fun!”

  Isaac scrambled for the ball and underthrew it to second, which Tatum was rounding before the shortstop could even run out and get a solid hand on the ball. She made a spectacular slide into third—even though she didn’t need to—and Kyle went running to her for a high five with a euphoria he hadn’t felt since way before Arizona.

  “That. Was. Awesome!”

  “I know,” she said, grinning like crazy while she dusted herself off.

  Kyle scanned the field. Jacob was back at catcher, waiting for Kyle to return the mitt still on his hand. Coach Malone was staring him down too. “I guess we’re holding things up.” He bopped her on the sh
oulder with the mitt. “Great hit, amazing slide.”

  As he jogged back to home plate, he told himself to say Jacob’s name. Just say it. Act normal. Treat him like everyone else. “Jake!” he said, “Jake the Quake! Thanks for letting me be pinch catcher.” He tossed him the mitt. “How about that slide?”

  Jacob eyed him. “It was cool.”

  “You and me haven’t really practiced sliding. We can do that later if you want.” Kyle kept his voice up, light.

  “Okay.” He sounded less suspicious. “I did it once and hurt my butt. So I haven’t tried it again.”

  “It happens. All right, batter up!”

  The game got going again, and Kyle stepped back and watched with a strange sensation. It was similar to happiness.

  In his head, he described it the way he would if he were talking to Emily:

  Do you think we can make a choice to be happy? I had this moment at the kids’ practice when I felt like I was choosing it. It was all sunny and this kid Tatum got a triple and slid like a badass and . . . I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t choosing it. Maybe it was more like I was letting it.

  Malone appeared at his shoulder, arms crossed. “You’re good at this sometimes.”

  “Thanks. It’s pretty fun sometimes.”

  “Would you want to do some work over the summer?” he continued. “I run a baseball camp for girls. It’s these two you already know, plus any girls who want to build more confidence and skills. I have some donors, so it doesn’t cost parents a dime. A lot of the parents I talk to are scared off by the organized leagues and registration fees and all. That pisses me off, so I started a free camp. It would pay you, though. Not much. Some.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m interested. I do this family trip at the beginning of summer, but after that, yeah.”

  He sat in his car at the school before driving home and texted Emily.

  High five me. Just got a summer job inspiring the youths.

  She sent back a gif of dancing orphans from Annie.

  Wait, she said. This doesn’t affect farm week, right??

  No way. how are you? he asked.

  Okay I guess? between Alex and my mom there is a lot of emotion in my house rn and it’s exhausting. they are so EXPRESSIVE. ugh.

  IDK what that’s like. everyone here is so . . . REpressive. Taylor is coming home today though so that might change.

  I gotta go, but tell her I said hi!

  Taylor’s car was in the driveway next to his mom’s. Kyle hummed “I Have Confidence” from The Sound of Music and leaned over to check himself out in the rearview mirror. He was going to try acting like things at home were fine and see how that went. If he hated that, he’d decide what to do next. He hadn’t seen Taylor since Presidents’ Day weekend, before everything hit the fan, and thought maybe he could at least let her first night back be okay.

  He bounced into the house. “Yo! Where my sis at?”

  “Back here!”

  She was in her room, with their mom, unpacking some plastic bins of clothes. Taylor’s first words were “Yes, I’ve gained weight, don’t say anything and don’t give me crap about it.”

  “No, you look great,” he said. Taylor was almost as tall as their dad, had his same wispy hair. Now she looked more grown up and less like a tall child. He gave her a hug, feeling their mom’s eyes on him.

  “You too,” she said. She scratched his chin. “Trying to grow a beard?”

  “Succeeding, you mean.” He pushed her hand away playfully. “Nah, I just keep forgetting to shave.”

  She looked around her room. “I hate unpacking. Maybe I’ll finish this later.”

  “You’ll feel better if you get it done now,” their mom said. “It will go fast with the two of us.”

  “Let me take you to Cold Stone when you’re done,” Kyle said to Taylor. “I think I still have a gift card from Christmas.”

  “Well,” their mom said, “we’re all going out to dinner, so maybe you should wait on the ice cream?”

  All of them? Out to dinner? He could act normal to an extent, but that would be harder to pull off. “I have a lot of homework,” Kyle said. “It’s not fair you’re done with the semester and I still have weeks of school left.” He tried to sound disappointed.

  But then Taylor said, “It’s Los Hermanos, Kyle, come on. I’ve been thinking about it for two weeks.”

  “Is Dad going?”

  “Uh, yeah, Dad’s going.”

  He glanced at his mom. She shrugged and said, “We won’t stay out late.”

  The good thing about dinner at Los Hermanos was that it gave him a chance to practice being with family who didn’t know about his mom. He joked with the server about making sure Taylor got a steady stream of root beer, her favorite. His mom asked him about school, and he answered almost as if they’d never not been in normal Mom-Kyle mode, though he did try to pivot the topic away from himself as soon as possible. Taylor complained about her roommate, and their dad ate nearly the whole basket of chips by himself and didn’t say much.

  The night was pretty smooth at first. Cool how when everyone agrees to pretend, they can basically create a whole new reality.

  “Megan better come to the farm,” Taylor was saying. “She claims she’s going to try, but you know Megan.”

  “She has your back when it comes to the important stuff, though, right?” Kyle said.

  Their mom leaned forward, rested her chin on her fist. “I’m so happy you two are there for each other.”

  “Eh,” Taylor said, holding out her hand and making a so-so motion. “She had some good advice about my roommate one day, and the next day all she said was ‘Work it out.’ That was her whole text. ‘Work it out.’ Thanks, Megan.”

  “I think she’s just really busy with her jobs.”

  “Kyle, I know. But how long does it take to answer a text?”

  Their dad broke his silence. “Give Megan a break. She’s trying to make her own way.”

  “I’m trying too, Dad,” Taylor said.

  “Everyone’s path is different.” Kyle’s mom probably meant for that to end the conversation, but then his dad added, “That’s for sure.”

  When they got home, the sun was going down, but it was still warm out. If it had been a year ago, they would all have headed to the patio without even discussing it, maybe had a bowl of ice cream. Now Kyle’s dad turned on the TV and his mom worked on a design proposal at the kitchen island. Taylor said she still had a little unpacking left.

  But Kyle didn’t want to just go to his room like he did every night. Taylor being home reminded him of what it had been like, before. He missed living in the whole house instead of one little corner of it.

  Out on the patio, he shook a bunch of leaves and twigs and stuff off a chair, then pulled it over to the pond he’d cleaned up over the weekend and got out his phone.

  He told Emily about dinner. Response bubbles appeared then disappeared. Appeared again, disappeared. And again, until he couldn’t stop himself from asking:

  Okay, what aren’t you saying? He added a smiley.

  No answer, no bubbles. He closed his eyes out there on the patio, held the phone to his chest. He breathed. Every time he thought he felt the slightest sign that Emily wasn’t happy with him, he got scared. Though he’d done a good job not sending super-needy texts lately, he still mostly talked about himself. His life, his problems, his confusion. Probably every time she saw his name on her notifications, she was like, Great, now what?

  Maybe she didn’t even like him. Maybe she was just being nice because she had to be, because they were family. It’s not like she could drop out of the friendship, because there’d always be the next holiday or get-together and she’d have to see his stupid face yet again. He’d been a bad boyfriend to Nadia, at the end, and a bad teammate and maybe a bad son for being so judgmental of his parents and now a bad . . . whatever he was to his cousin.

  It was a physical ache, this worry that the connection between them might be inte
rrupted, and that it would be his fault.

  His phone buzzed. He counted to ten before opening his eyes and looking at the phone, steeling himself to find out more ways he’d screwed up.

  And in those seconds, he knew he’d gotten entangled in something he hadn’t meant or expected to. To need so badly for this one person to understand and care about him. To rely on her words to make him know if he was an okay person or a complete disappointment.

  He looked.

  IDK, just so ready for school to be over and also some drama bc my mom got a tattoo without telling my dad and he’s losing his mind over it.

  Kyle exhaled. Yeah, dummy, it’s not about you.

  Really??? he replied. Everyone has them now. Practically all my teachers.

  Well, it’s a BAD tattoo, which I think my dad is more mad about than the basic idea of a tattoo. It’s actually kind of funny, but it’s like me and my dad are raising our very own teenager and I need a break from being a parent.

  Hmmm sounds familiar, he said, still coming down from the adrenaline of getting ready for rejection, but trying to play it light.

  Ha. How ARE things over there?

  Are you sure you want to know right now? He let his thumbs hover for a second and then added, It can wait. I mean, I know I depend on you too much. You have stuff going on, too. Like you said that time you got mad at me.

  I wasn’t really mad at you, she said.

  Yeah you were, he thought. You know how we said we wanted to always be a good thing for each other . . . I want to make sure it is. A good thing for you.

  It took her a long time to type her next message, and it was disappointingly short after all that waiting. I think it’s okay to depend on people, she said. We’re family.

  I know, but . . . He couldn’t think how to finish that sentence, exactly. After a deep breath, he wrote: It’s different. More like you’re my best friend.

  Then added: Is that okay to say?