Goodbye from Nowhere

by Sara Zarr

  When they finally made the turn at the first Nowhere Farm sign, Kyle’s nervous system zapped again and again. He thought about the last time, when Emily had been waiting for him on the swings. That time didn’t feel like this. Was he jittery about the job of hiding his parents’ situation from the family or about seeing Emily? It felt like . . . Emily.

  Kyle, my dude, find some chill about Emily. He didn’t want to, like, burst into tears when he saw her or something.

  They went down the long driveway, under a canopy of trees, passing the swing set—no Emily—and the kitchen garden. There were a few cars parked half on the gravel and half on the scrub, including his mom’s. Then there was the house and Grandma Baker coming out the front door, waving.

  “This is the last time we’re gonna see that,” Kyle said, but not loud enough, because his dad was distracted by the sight of a little black dog running toward the truck and barking as they parked. “What the hell is that?”

  Grandpa Baker came out of the house next, his cap pulled down low. Seeing Grandpa didn’t give Kyle quite the same sentimental feeling as seeing Grandma; it hit him in a more melancholy way how he seemed so much older than he had even in March.

  They got out of the truck. Grandpa gave Kyle and his dad handshake-hugs. The dog jumped around. “Who’s this?” Kyle’s dad asked.

  “This little doggo is a gift from Great-Aunt Gina’s convent. His name is Pico, and he’s been trained to look after old people.”

  “Did you ask for a service dog, Dad? Everything been all right?”

  “No, we didn’t ask,” Grandma said. She was carrying some bags from the car already, not giving them a chance to do it themselves. “You know Gina. She doesn’t wait to be asked. Now what’s this about you needing to go back early for work?” Grandma asked Kyle’s dad.

  “I might. Not for sure.”

  Kyle let the dog sniff his hand and knelt down to scratch his head. When he stood, he saw her.

  She was coming down the trail from the olive grove with Taylor and Alex. Alex waved with both arms, but his eyes were on Emily. She had on cutoffs and an orange T-shirt, slow-walking with her fingers in her pockets and elbows out, looking exactly like herself.

  Alex ran to Kyle and jumped all over him, and he let her. “Hey, Tigger.”

  “I’m never going to see you again,” she wailed, her arms around his waist.

  “Yeah you are. You’re gonna see me the same amount, just not here.”

  He dragged her along and wished for a second he was her age, so he could show his happiness at seeing Emily with that much raw emotion. Just cling and smother and weep. Instead he matched Emily’s walking pace and went toward her. Alex finally let go. Kyle wanted to get Emily into a huge hug, but not in front of his sister or anyone else. Besides, she might not want that. He held up his hand for a high five. Emily gave him a funny look and slapped it.

  “What’s up?” he said to her. She laughed, and they just looked at each other for a minute.

  “How was it with Dad?” Taylor asked.

  “Long and boring and silent. How about with Mom?”

  “Not silent. But still boring and long. Did Megan text you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Is Megan coming?” Alex jumped up and down again.

  “Maybe,” Kyle told her.

  Aunt Brenda and Kyle’s mom were in the drive now, chatting in a polite way. Kyle went over; Aunt Brenda crushed him in a hug. “Jesus, Kyle, you’re more a man every time I see you.” She looked at Grandpa. “Sorry. I meant cheese-us.” To Kyle: “Uncle Dale would say hello if he weren’t in bed day-drinking Nyquil.”

  “All right,” Grandma said, “now that everyone’s here, let’s sort out the rooms. Gina is on the main floor, as usual. I thought Taylor and Emily could take the attic. It will be hot up there, but there are some fans in the basement you could bring up to get the air moving.”

  “Oh,” Kyle’s mom said, interrupting, “I was thinking Taylor and I could share. It was so good to have mother-daughter time in the car, I thought we could keep it going.”

  Kyle caught Taylor’s eye; she put her hands to her cheeks and mouthed, Noooooo.

  “That’s fine,” Kyle’s dad said.

  “Mom,” Taylor said. “No.”

  “It’ll be fun!”

  “No, it won’t. Room with Dad.” She shot Kyle a sly look, then pulled Emily’s hand. “Let’s go get the fans.”

  They went into the house and Grandpa trailed after them, giving specific instructions about where the fans were, and Kyle watched his dad wander back to his truck.

  “Good,” Grandma said to Kyle’s mom. “So you and Jeff will be in Jeff’s old room. There’s a box of stuff on the bed I’d like him to go through. Whatever he doesn’t take we’re going to have to toss.”

  “Well, tell Jeff,” Kyle’s mom said, pointing toward his dad.

  “I can hear.”

  Grandma said to Brenda, “And I’ve got six boxes for you.”

  “I saw.”

  “I mean it this time. We’re renting a Dumpster after camp is over, and it’s going to be toss, toss, toss, toss. We’re not taking you-all’s junk with us when we move.”

  If she felt sad about the farm sale and leaving it all behind, she sure didn’t show it. Grandma never had been sentimental, though. Maybe the inability to express feelings and communicate about anything not superficial was in the Baker blood. Kyle’s dad was withdrawn, Aunt Brenda was always performing, and Uncle Mike just wanted to have fun and for everyone to get along.

  “Where am I sleeping?” Alex asked. “Are me and Martie in the basement?”

  “Martie wants to sleep at her own house, so you’ll have it all to yourself!”

  Alex’s face fell. “I don’t want to be alone in the basement.”

  “Well,” Grandma said, “if you and Kyle can get the big bean bag up to the attic, you might be able to squeeze in with Taylor and Emily.”

  “Ask Emily first,” Aunt Brenda said.

  “I have as much right as her to be in the attic.”

  “Ask. Maybe she’d like to be alone in the basement.”

  Then Taylor would be stuck alone with Alex, which Kyle knew wouldn’t be okay with her. “We could all sleep in the bunkhouse,” he said. “Like we used to.”

  “Except you can’t,” Grandma said. “It’s half demolished, and Grandpa wants you to finish the job this week.”

  “Uh, what do you mean, it’s half demolished?” Kyle asked.

  “I mean it’s half demolished. Finishing it is the project. You didn’t think there’d be no project this year, did you?” Every summer the cousins had a project, arts and crafts when they were little, turning into real work like sealing the deck or doing fence repair when they were older.

  “No, but . . .” The bunkhouse?

  The place where he and the cousins would play every summer? And Emily would whisper all night? Where he told Nadia he loved her?

  “What if I don’t want to tear down the bunkhouse?” Kyle asked.

  “Yeah,” Alex added. “What if we don’t want to?”

  “Too bad,” Grandma sad. “Grandpa’s the boss.”

  Aunt Brenda patted Kyle on the back. “Gonna be an awesome farm week.”

  2

  KYLE HELPED Alex drag the giant beanbag from the basement to the attic. She didn’t ask Emily like she was supposed to, and Kyle promised to back her up. “No one should be alone in the basement this week,” he said.

  They shoved the bean bag through the small attic door.

  “Hello?” Taylor asked. “What are you doing?”

  “Grandma said I had to sleep up here,” Alex said.

  Kyle laughed at her adjustment of the facts, and went over to the attic window where Emily stood looking out. The attic had a view of olive trees, walnut trees, the pear orchard.

  He nudged her with his elbow. “Here we are.”

  “We are here.” She put her finger on the glass. “I heard my dad saying the oth
er day that the buyer is eventually going to turn all this to vineyards. Adding to the existing vineyards and letting everything else die off, I guess.”

  The whole place as they’d always known it would be replaced with something completely different.

  “And guess what our project is,” Kyle said. “Tearing down the bunkhouse.”

  Emily turned to him. “I’m going to cry.”

  He wanted to comfort her, say something good. But then Alex bounced over and stuck her head between them to see out the window. “Uncle Mike and Martie are here!” she said, and sprang away excitedly. Taylor followed Alex out, and Emily and Kyle were alone.

  “Grandma said Martie doesn’t even want to sleep here,” Kyle said.

  They watched Martie hop out of Uncle Mike’s truck, sunglasses and baseball hat, in a crop top with her phone tucked into the waistband of her leggings.

  “I’d probably feel the same if I lived ten minutes away like she does and could be alone in my own room.” She turned to him. “So, hi.”

  Mostly all he wanted was to study her. Notice all the things about her he never had, because she’d just been Emily. Like her grayish eyes, and the strong shape of her nose, more noticeable now because of the nose ring. The haircut he’d been so weird about showed her neck, and in the light by the window he could see the halo of fine, light hair on her skin.

  She saved the weird moment by stepping toward him to initiate the hug. She felt solid, sturdy. So there. Not text on a screen, or a floating face.

  They let each other go and Kyle wanted to immediately hug her again. But he didn’t. He folded his arms, and they looked down at everyone gathered by Mike and Jenny’s truck.

  “I talked to your mom for five whole minutes, and it didn’t feel too weird knowing everything I know,” Emily said. “Maybe it won’t be so hard.”

  “My parents have to share a room and a bed and everything. Mom tried to get out of it, but Taylor put the smackdown on that.”

  “I’ve been trying to imagine if it was my parents,” Emily said. “They would be so bad at hiding it, though. My mom would probably confess right away and they’d have a big, dramatic separation and my mom would write a play about it.”

  “And if it was Uncle Mike and Aunt Jenny . . . ,” Kyle started. Then they both kind of laughed, and he said, “Yeah, no, it would never be Uncle Mike and Aunt Jenny. They’re soul mates.”

  “If anyone is soul mates, and I don’t even know if I believe in that, it’s them.”

  Stay chill, stay chill. Don’t say you think Emily might be your soul mate.

  “Even though all this stuff is going on,” he said, “I’m really happy to be here. You know. To hang with you in person and stuff.” He listened to his own words. You didn’t have to say that to family. It was supposed to go without saying, right?

  “Me too,” she said in a voice way more casual than his.

  At that moment, Taylor looked up at the attic window and waved them down.

  “I hope you’ve all been practicing your Electric Slide,” Uncle Mike said to the cousins. “Your dancing at Martie’s birthday was a real disappointment.”

  “Dad,” Martie said.

  “I’m just saying. This dance party has to be the most epic we’ve ever had. Last one at the farm.”

  “My mom brought a margarita machine,” Emily said. “That should help with the epicness.”

  Kyle could tell she was being sarcastic, but Uncle Mike said, “I know. She texted me from the store and I was like, yes, we absolutely need that.” Mike looked down at them. “Okay, who’s gonna help me unload this crap?”

  Cousins scattered. Martie and Taylor went off toward the swings, and Alex ran after them. Kyle and Emily stayed to unload the big gas grill, one cooler full of ice and beer and soda and cut limes, and one full of food. Kyle watched Emily’s biceps flex as they carried the beer cooler over to the patio. “You’re cut, dude. Have you been lifting this year or is that all from swimming?”

  “Both. I like being strong.”

  They set the cooler down under the folding table where Grandpa usually set up the bar. Emily folded her hands behind her head and gave Kyle this look, a look so direct and open and beaming out this pure Emily spirit that he almost wanted to hide. That feeling was overridden by how much he wanted to soak it in.

  Uncle Mike rolled the grill over. “I’m still perfecting the playlist for Saturday night. So if you guys have songs you want, submit them to me for approval.”

  “Not ‘Rock Lobster,’” Kyle said.

  “But that’s your aunt Brenda’s favorite,” Mike said with a wink.

  Emily rolled her eyes. “We’re aware.”

  “Gather ’round, all ye Bakers and former Bakers!” It was Grandma, stepping out onto the patio with a cardboard box. The phone box. He always forgot.

  Kyle’s parents followed, along with Aunt Brenda and Aunt Jenny. “Now that all’s ashore who’s coming ashore, phones go in the box. Send your last messages in a bottle now.”

  For a second he thought with a start, But how am I going to talk to Emily? Then he remembered she was standing right next to him. He glanced at her with a smile and was the first to go to Grandma and toss his phone in.

  Emily went next. Taylor said, “Let me check something real quick. . . .” and Martie looked at Uncle Mike to ask, “But . . . I’m not really staying here, so I’m getting it back at the end of every day, right?”

  Grandma said, “I don’t see why. No one else will have theirs at night.”

  “Mom,” Uncle Mike said, “come on. That’s not reasonable. You know I have to check in with work. We all do.”

  “I will distribute phones to the adults twice per day, before breakfast and after dinner.” She rattled the box and said to Martie, “Once a day for everyone under thirty.”

  “You can’t make up new, random rules every time, Mom,” Kyle’s dad said. “Mike’s right about work.”

  “I can make up new, random rules. I’m your mother.”

  Kyle’s dad tossed his phone in but muttered, “When I need it back, I’m going to take it back.”

  Martie threw hers in and stalked off toward the pear orchard. “I’m going to find Grandpa Navarro,” she said over her shoulder. “Yeah, remember him?”

  Kyle wondered what that was about, then noticed his mom literally clutching her phone to her chest with this expression on her face.

  Of course she’d panic. The phone was her portal to her other life. She turned away from the group and sent a text, then powered her phone off and set it in the box.

  While the rest of the adults argued about the rules, Great-Aunt Gina came around from behind the house with her walking stick, still moving slowly from her hip operation. Kyle hadn’t seen her in a year. She looked exactly like Grandpa Baker. Nearly the same height, same long arms and craggy face and basically the same haircut.

  “I have an announcement,” she said.

  “I’m sure you do,” Aunt Jenny said quietly. “Why bother saying hello when you have an announcement?”

  “The dog, Pico, is supposed to be learning to respond only to your grandfather. He’s not a pet to play with. Please don’t undo the months of training we undertook at the convent, and don’t give him table scraps.” She waved her hand. “That’s it, that’s all I have. Carry on saying goodbye to the ball and chain you all seem to enjoy carrying around in your pockets. I’ll be on my walk.”

  They watched her disappear around the side of the house.

  “You gotta love her,” Aunt Brenda said.

  After everyone had turned over their phones, Kyle asked Uncle Mike what Martie was mad about.

  “Haven’t you been reading the emails?” He explained that Grandma and Grandpa had agreed to the farm sale without even mentioning it to Grandpa Navarro. He’d heard about it when someone in town asked him what he was planning to do now that he was retiring.

  Uncle Mike looked from Emily to Kyle. “This part wasn’t in the emails, but the real deal is t
hat Jenny thinks Eliseo should get some proceeds from the sale, and I don’t disagree, but no one is talking about it. Don’t be surprised if you don’t see a lot of Aunt Jenny and Grandpa Navarro around this week or if you feel like there’s an elephant in the room.”

  Two elephants, Kyle thought.

  “Well that sucks,” Emily said.

  “Is that why Martie doesn’t want to sleep over?” Kyle asked.

  “I think that’s part of it. Though also she’s pretty into her own dramas right now. Fifteen, you know.” He said it as if Kyle and Emily were way, way past that.

  “I’m going to go check on my dad,” Emily said. “I think everyone forgot he exists.”

  Kyle took a step to go with her, then stopped, then started again, stopped. She hadn’t invited him and was already ten feet away and not looking back.

  “You okay?” Uncle Mike asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then help me with the propane tank.” Kyle walked with him back to the truck. Then Uncle Mike asked, all casual, “Hey, how’s Nadia? We sure enjoyed having her over at Thanksgiving. I know Martie was disappointed she couldn’t come out for the quinceañera.”

  “She’s . . . she’s good. She’s fine,” Kyle said. “But we broke up.”

  Uncle Mike turned to him. “You broke up?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow. Jenny and me were saying at Thanksgiving how you guys reminded us of how we were in high school.”

  Kyle grabbed the handles of the propane tank. “Thanksgiving was a long time ago.”

  “Sounds like you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Not really. Not right now.”

  Uncle Mike showed him where to put the tank and tried to say some meaningful stuff about love and letting go, but Kyle couldn’t engage with it. He finished helping and then wandered around the grounds. Not exactly looking for Emily, but not not looking. He passed the old climbing tree that seemed so small now and thought, Never seeing it again after this week. He circled the pond and wondered if the new owners would keep it or drain it. He walked along the fence that the cousins had repaired a couple of summers ago. The new owners would have no idea a bunch of kids had done that.