Finding Goodbye Read online

  “A really dumb one,” I answered. “He was probably trying to compensate for something else and gave himself a nickname.”

  “He did kind of have a small... well, you know.” She frowned, gazing out at nothing in particular in the far off distance. I suppressed a laugh, and put my arm around her shoulder to show my support.

  “It will be okay,” I said to her. “You’ll see.” I certainly wasn’t an expert when it came to “healing” but the sentiment just seemed like the right thing to say.

  She nodded, leaning her head against my shoulder. We sat like that for a moment, listening to the wind blow through the sea grass around us.

  I took in a deep breath of the salty sea air, relishing the scent and the feel of it on my skin. It had been too long since I had done this–enjoy the beach with friends–that is, not so much the drunken part.

  “Guys can be such assholes,” she commented a moment later.

  “Hey,” Luke said, holding up an index finger, “I resent that comment.”

  “Oh, like you’ve never been an asshole?” Beck said.

  “He really hasn’t,” I confirmed. I looked over at Luke, watching as the wind blew the strands of hair back from his forehead. I thought back to day our family moved in across the street from his. Gabriel and I were around seven-years-old, and Luke, a year older, not bothered in the slightest to hang out with “younger kids,” marched right across the street to ask if we wanted to come over and play video games. The three of us had become fast and easy friends. Luke and Gabriel looked after me, and never treated me like a “silly little girl.” I had always been one of them–an equal. Of course we teased each other, but it had always been in good nature.

  “Well,” Beck said, “I guess you’re an anomaly.”

  Luke snickered.

  “God, what am I going to do? I can’t go home like this. Aunt Layla will freak.” Beck leaned forward, dipping her head between her knees.

  “You can come home with me,” I said. “My grandparents aren’t usually up past ten anyway, so if we’re quiet they won’t even know you’re there. I’ll give you a ride back here in the morning so you can get your car.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, looking up at me through smeared eye makeup.

  “Yes,” I answered. “I’m sure.”

  “You’re the best, you know. And I’m not just saying that because I’m drunk.”

  I laughed. “We’ll see how you feel in the morning. Now, come on, we should probably start heading back.”

  “Okay,” she groaned. “Luke, you don’t hate me, do you?”

  “Why would I hate you?”

  “Because Rex hit you in the nose.”

  “Let’s not forget that I punched him in the jaw to defend your honor; my nose is merely a trivial compromise in comparison.”

  Beck giggled, stumbling as she struggled to make it in a straight line across the beach. Luke and I held her arms, helping her across the pavement with the moon lighting our way.

  After we had loaded Beck into the back seat, I held out my hand, motioning for Luke to give me his keys.

  “I’m totally fine,” he said. “The buzz has worn off, trust me.”

  “Still, I prefer to be safe.”

  With a sigh, he handed over his keys and climbed into the passenger’s side seat. The streets were quiet as I turned to head back through town, and for a minute, it felt like the three of us were the only people left in the universe. I stopped at the local gas station and purchased a water bottle, making Luke re-hydrate on the way back to the farm. Beck was already passed out in the back seat.

  When I pulled into the gravel drive, I was careful to avoid the potholes in the darkness. Their location had become muscle-memory; I knew where they were without realizing. Luke yawned as I cut the engine, and stretched his limbs. We both got out of the car, and met in the middle–in front of the car.

  “What a night, huh?” I said with a sigh, tucking my hands in my back pockets.

  “You know, aside from getting elbowed in the face, I really had a good time.” He laughed quietly.

  “Is your nose feeling better?”

  “Oh yeah.” He stood up straight and responded in a phony surly tone, “I’m a man after all.”

  “Okay,” I chuckled, “big tough guy, do you think you can help me get Beck upstairs?” I didn’t want to wake her if I didn’t have to.

  “No problem.” He opened up the side door, scooping her up without managing to wake her, and we started across the drive to the back porch. I fumbled with my keys in the dark, and then quietly unlocked the door.

  The house was warm and still, smelling of baked apple pie. I turned on the light inside the mud room so Luke could find his footing with Beck in his arms. The stairs were a bit trickier; the antique boards giving us away as they creaked beneath our feet. I paused at the top of the landing, feeling along the wall for my doorway. Once I found it, I reached inside and flipped on the light switch. Luke trailed in behind me, carefully laying Beck on the bed. He breathed out slowly, and then turned to face me.

  “Success,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged in response. I followed him back down the stairs and stepped out with him on the porch.

  “Are you okay to drive home?” I knew he was, but my paranoia made me double-check out of courtesy and concern. I was the last person that would ever let any person–even slightly under the influence–get behind a wheel of a vehicle. I knew firsthand what could happen… I’d never let anyone take that risk.

  “Are you offering to let me to stay?” His lips curled upward into a smirk.

  I made a face, dragging my foot across one of the wooden boards of the porch.

  “I’m teasing,” he said. “I didn’t have as much to drink as she did. Hopefully she makes it through the night without throwing up. She’s definitely going to be nursing a nasty hangover in the morning.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “She had a rough night though. I didn’t want her to be alone.”

  “You’re a good friend Darcy,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from my forehead. “You’ve always been a good friend.”

  I swallowed, forcing my lips into a small smile. “I should probably go check on her,” I said. I was afraid of what would happen if I lingered too long. He had that look in his eye, the one that could possibly turn our friendship into more than that, and the thought sent my insides twisting into a ball of nerves. Deep down, I knew it shouldn’t feel that way. You weren’t supposed to fear something that could potentially be good.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said, hugging me, and turned to leave.

  “Okay, be safe.”

  I waited until I saw his taillights disappear in the dark before I headed back upstairs. I changed into sweat pants and an old Tiger Shark T before washing the smell of the bar and sea air from my face. Since Beck was passed out on the bed, I pulled an old sleeping bag from the hall closet, and took some extra blankets and pillows. I spread everything out next to the window in my bedroom, and climbed inside.

  I lay there for a while, replaying the night’s events as I gazed up at the waning silver moon. It had felt good to be out with friends again, even if the night had not gone entirely as I expected. One thing was certain. You could plan out your life until you were blue in the face, but life, or fate, definitely had its own intentions. Change was inevitable, I realized, but I was learning that some change–like a crazy girl with black hair and a fiery attitude sweeping her way into my life–could actually be a good thing. Maybe when life took something away, it also gave you something in return?

  It didn’t make up for the loss,
or cover up the hurt, but it did make room for something new.

  Chapter Eight

  Beck had thrown a pillow at me, abruptly waking me from my slumber. I startled, taking a minute to get my bearings. My body ached with stiffness, probably a result from sleeping on the floor without much support.

  “What is that ungodly noise at this hour?” Beck was sitting up, massaging her temples with her index and middle finger.

  I glanced at the clock, the green numbers flashing six thirty-seven in the morning. “That would be Liam, my grandparent’s stablehand,” I explained.

  “And what is he doing?” she croaked.

  “Chopping wood,” I said. I rolled myself to my knees with some effort, and pushed open the curtains, letting the soft glow of the early morning light stream in. Beck groaned in objection, shielding her eyes against the glare.

  Sure enough, Liam was down below with the ax in hand. Today, he was wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans.

  Beck stumbled out of bed and made her way over to me. “Who chops wood at six–” her words trailed off as she gazed out the window. “Oh, my God… You didn’t tell me you had a real life Clark Kent working for you. No wonder you can’t make a decision about Luke. Look at those arms!”

  “I’m glad to see the events of last night haven’t managed to rattle you in the slightest,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Just because I’m depressed doesn’t mean I’m blind,” she retorted. “There are no rules stating that I can’t appreciate a beautifully crafted man immediately post breakup.”

  “Honestly, Beck.” I closed the curtains and pushed to my feet.

  “So what’s his story?” she continued to prod. “How long has he been working here?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I think my grandma said they hired him back in November.”

  “Well, is he seeing anyone?” she asked.

  “Is that really what’s on your mind right now?”

  “I’m not asking for me, obviously. I’m just curious, and I think it’s weird that you’re not. I mean, suppose I had someone working with me at the coffee shop that looked like him… I’d be way too distracted to actually get anything done.”

  I did my best to ignore her, and started rifling around in the dresser to find some clothes for her to borrow. I grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a sweater I hoped wouldn’t be too big for her petite frame. “Here,” I said, extending the clothes. “Bathroom is that way.” I pointed down the hall.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I probably look like a masked bandit, huh?”

  Her makeup was smeared, but I didn’t feel it necessary to point that out. After all, I didn’t have the same ability to express myself so verbally like she did. “I just thought it would make you feel better,” I said.

  I made sure she had a fresh towel before I grabbed a pair of clothes for myself and changed in the bedroom. I decided on a pair of jeans, and an old two-toned maroon-and-gray baseball T-shirt. My hair smelled like a weird combination of sea air and stale cigarette smoke, so I piled it on top of my head to keep it from falling in my face. I needed a shower, but Beck would probably use up all of the hot water supply before I’d get my chance.

  While I waited for Beck, I decided to pull out my laptop and write my mom a quick note to let her know I was thinking of her. I filled her in on my recent adventures, and wondered whether or not I should mention Liam. I looked up from the keyboard, stealing a glance at the man below. He was stacking logs in a wheelbarrow now, his dark hair gleaming in the early light. I chewed the inside of my lip thoughtfully, wondering what I could even say about him. I didn’t know much, aside from the fact that he was devastatingly good looking, a hard worker, and really good with animals... Maybe next time, I decided, and hit the send button.

  The smell of coffee drifted up the stairs and surrounded me, making my mouth water in anticipation for some caffeine. A beat later, Beck emerged from the bathroom with her hair wrapped up in a towel. She looked different without the heavy eye makeup–younger, more fragile.

  “Feel any better?” I asked her.

  “A little,” she said. “I snooped around for makeup but all I could find was mascara and a foundation that was clearly for your olive skin-tone.”

  “Sorry,” I said, “I don’t wear very much makeup.”

  “Well that’s obvious–not that you need it or anything,” she said indifferently.

  “Uh, thanks?”

  “It’s a compliment.” She shrugged. “So, your grandparents won’t freak out about me being here, will they?”

  I shook my head. “No. They’ll probably just feed you breakfast.”

  “No complaints here. Perhaps we can forgo telling all the nitty-gritty details of last night though. I’d rather not rehash the sleazy, unforgivable crimes that were committed against my good name just yet–especially in front of your grandparents.”

  “Not a problem,” I said, slipping into my favorite pair of white Converse. “I’m really good at keeping secrets.”

  Beck snorted. “I’d say that’s an understatement.”

  “Meaning…”

  “No offense, but you definitely walk around like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. I don’t know–it just seems like you’re holding something back. Like something bad happened to you or something?”

  “Am I that transparent?” I wondered aloud softly.

  “You’re not transparent,” Beck said in a tone that matched mine. “I’m just gifted–or cursed–depending on how you want to look at it, at reading people.”

  As I looked up at Beck, I realized that she was exactly the kind of person that didn’t hold anything back. There were no false pretenses–no hiding in fear. I was living in a world full of gray, abstract matter, where things weren’t always as they appeared. There was too much room for variation–too much room for guessing. But Beck was so sure of herself, so convinced that the world around her could only be seen in black and white. It made me want to take a chance and show bravery.

  “I was in a pretty bad car accident almost five months ago, and I basically shattered my right leg,” I said, my voice surprisingly even.

  “Is that where you got the scar from?” She pointed to my right eyebrow.

  I reached up instinctively, tracing the boomerang pattern with my fingertips before adjusting my bangs to cover it. “Yeah,” I said. “I lost my brother that day.”

  Beck was quiet for a moment, looking at me the way everyone else had when they found out about the accident. I waited for her to ask me how it happened, dreaded what was coming next, but instead, she walked over to where I was standing, and squeezed my arm.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sympathy lining her voice. For whatever reason–maybe because of my expression–Beck didn’t ask me anymore questions.

  I nodded a gesture of thanks, but my lips couldn’t make the word form.

  “Do you have any aspirin? My head is pounding, and Ax-Boy out there isn’t helping matters.” She gestured over her shoulder with a pointed thumb.

  “Downstairs.” I smiled, grateful for the subject change. “Come on.”

  ***

  “I thought I heard another voice up there,” Grandma said as we walked into the kitchen. She was hovering over the stove, frying up something that resembled scrambled eggs and bacon.

  “So this is where all of the pie magic happens?” Beck said, looking around the kitchen appreciatively.

  “I wouldn’t quite call it magic.” Grandma blushed.

  “Grandma, this is my friend Beck. The concert ended really late last night so I just invited her to stay so she wouldn’t
wake up her aunt. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Grandma replied.

  “Aunt Layla is a light sleeper,” Beck explained. “She turns into a monster that bares a close resemblance to something in a Stephen King novel if she doesn’t get her eight hours in. It’s really quite terrifying.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Grandma smiled. “I hope you both are hungry.”

  “Famished,” Beck said. She startled, clutching a hand to her heart as she pulled a chair out from the table. Luna was sitting in the chair, her long neck sweeping over the table in search of something to eat. “OhmyGod,” Beck shrieked.

  “That’s Luna,” I said. “She’s my grandma’s pet duck.”

  “Right,” Beck said, choosing a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Because having a pet duck is a totally normal and perceivable thing.”

  “It is on a farm,” Grandma said, chuckling.

  “I think I’ll just stay on this side of the table.”

  “You’re not afraid of ducks, are you?” I lifted an eyebrow.

  “Ducks, birds–anything with wings, really. I don’t like all of that flapping. It freaks me out,” Beck admitted. “Butterflies are about the only flapping creature I can tolerate, and that’s mostly because they just gently float through the air.”

  I headed over to the medicine cabinet, discreetly reaching for the bottle of aspirin while Grandma had her back to me. I poured two cups of coffee, and sat both of them on the kitchen table, handing Beck the pain medicine.

  “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

  “This isn’t as special as the coffee you make, but the caffeine works somewhat the same,” I said teasingly.

  “The caffeine is all I care about this morning,” she said, reaching for the mug like her life depended on it.

  “Beck makes all of the coffee at the Crescent Moon,” I told Grandma as she sat down the breakfast plates.