This is What Goodbye Looks Like

by Olivia Rivers

  “Thank you,” he murmurs.

  “For what?”

  “For being you. And for sharing you with me.”

  My cheeks must be pretty close to crimson by now, and I press a hand against my face, only to find Seth’s still there. I take his hand in mine.

  “You don’t have to thank me.”

  “Yes, I do. Because that’s what gentlemen do when they receive a gift.”

  I smile a little. “And since when are you a gentleman?”

  “I converted about two seconds ago. Just go with it, okay?”

  I laugh and lean against him. We stay like that for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s warmth. But then Seth’s tone turns solemn, and he asks, “Do you believe in fate?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugs a little. “It’s just, I’ve always hated the idea of it. It’s kind of terrifying to think that I don’t really have control of my own future. But since I’ve met you, I’ve been thinking maybe it’s real. I mean, what are the chances that we’ve both been through tragedies recently with our siblings? And that I ended up meeting you now, right when I was looking for a photographer to help with Parker’s project? It just seems like more than coincidence.”

  It’s definitely more. But I don’t have the guts to explain to him that I purposely brought us together, so I just murmur, “I don’t know about fate, but I believe in death. Does it really matter why we all end up in the same place?”

  “Yes. Because I think that’s who people really are—not their destinations, but how they choose to get there.”

  I consider this for a long moment and then nod. “I don’t think fate can be real then,” I say. “Or at least I hope it’s not. But, whatever brought us together, I’m glad for it.”

  I realize it’s true as soon as I say it. Despite all my guilt for lying to him, I don’t regret coming to Harting and meeting him. Sharing our pain with each other has somehow managed to dull it.

  He kisses me lightly on the top of my head. “I’m glad, too.”

  Right then, both of our phones ping with a new message at the same moment. I check mine and let out a grudging sigh.

  “Landon’s here,” I say. He was nice enough to drive us, although I’m kind of regretting not taking a taxi so we could have stayed longer. “We should get going.”

  Seth nods, but then he stands and heads over to the wall with the poetry bookshelves, Koda at his side. He feels for something, stopping when his fingertips brush against a corkboard pinned to the wall.

  “Is anyone around?” he asks quietly.

  I glance around the empty room and shake my head. “No. Why?”

  He feels along the board, letting the cork glide under his fingers. For a moment, I think he’s searching for one of the announcements tacked on there. But then he finds an empty corner and bends back the thin board, giving it a yank. A piece tears away that’s a couple inches long and about an inch wide.

  “Seth!” I hiss. “You can’t tear up their news board!”

  He smiles sheepishly and tucks the corner of the corkboard into his jeans. “But I just did.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can add it to my collection of souvenirs I have hanging on my wall.”

  “I thought that was just for new places you visited,” I say. “Haven’t you been here before?”

  “Of course I have. But I’ve never been with you.”

  I blush, and he chuckles softly, like he can sense how embarrassed he’s making me. “Come on,” he says, holding out a hand for me. “Let’s get going. Landon will be a grump if we keep him waiting.”

  I stand up, barely noticing the usual pain in my knee, and start toward the exit of the library. But Seth pauses and waves me over to the poetry bookshelf.

  “Wait,” he says. “Actually, we haven’t gotten what we came here for yet.”

  “You didn’t come here for the kiss?” I ask in a mock-offended tone.

  “Nope. That was just a bonus.”

  He reaches out, resting his hand on my forearm and then trails his fingers along my arm until he finds my shoulder. He gives me an encouraging nudge toward the bookcase.

  “We actually came here to get you some real reading material,” he says. “Go on. Pick something out.”

  “I have plenty to read, Seth.”

  “But all the stuff you read is ridiculously sad.”

  “It’s just realistic.”

  “If you’re saying that, then you have definitely been reading way too much Bukowski. Now come on.” He pats the bookcase. “Pick out something happy.”

  I stick my tongue out at him, feeling even more juvenile since I know he can’t see it. But I grudgingly turn to the bookcase and nudge through a few of the books. “How about some Poe?”

  “Are you kidding me? He is not a happy poet.”

  “But I love his writing, so reading it makes me happy.”

  “Try something by Walt Whitman,” Seth says. “He has quite a few happy poems, and I think you’ll like his writing if you like Bukowski’s style.”

  I scan the shelves, stopping when I see Whitman’s name on a spine. It’s a small book, hardly any bigger than my palm, but it’s a bright green color that seems a little too cheerful for my tastes.

  “Do I have to?” I ask.

  “Yes. And no whining.” Then he leans over and kisses the top of my head. “But if it makes it more bearable, we can read it together.”

  I use one hand to reach over and twine my fingers with his, and the other to grab Whitman’s book off the shelf. “Deal.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When I get back to my dorm after our date, Brie’s sitting at the desk and talking on the phone with her mom. She’s been talking to her family less lately, or at least she’s not doing it right in front of me. She seems worried I might feel like she’s rubbing her family’s perfection in my face. But, honestly, I’ve just kind of missed hearing their conversations. Her mom and dad are some of the nicest people ever, and even though Bailey isn’t quite old enough to understand phone and video chats, the short conversations Brie has with her little brother are adorable.

  I lay on my bed and turn on my laptop, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible as Brie finishes up her call. Pulling up my photo editing software, I continue the work I started yesterday on the sixth photo for Parker’s project. I’ve started sorting through and cleaning up the photos, even though I still need to take more. So far, they’re turning out nice, and I think getting the project done by the deadline isn’t going to be as hard as I anticipated.

  When Brie hangs up a few minutes later, she’s frowning a little.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  She nods. “Yeah, I think so. Bailey just has a fever, so my mom’s taking him into the doctor tomorrow, and—”

  She cuts off all the sudden, guilt taking over her expression.

  “Stop it, Brie,” I say, shaking my head. “You have every right to be worried about him.”

  She twists a strand of her hair around her finger and looks down. “Yeah, but it’s just a little fever, and, um, I shouldn’t have mentioned it to you. Not when your sister is, um... Wow. Sorry. I’m being really awkward right now.”

  Cold suddenly flows through me as I’m reminded of reality. Yeah, tonight’s date felt really good. But that doesn’t change the fact that my little sister is about to die soon, and once that happens, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to consider anything in this world good again.

  For Brie’s sake, I force myself to say, “Look, there’s no reason for you to feel guilty about worrying over Bailey. That’s what big sisters are supposed to do. Right?”

  She gives a hesitant nod, and then her expression brightens a little as she comes over to my bed. She snaps the lid of my laptop closed and sits down on the mattress right next to me.

  “So.” She leans forward. “How’d it go with Seth?”

  “Good,” I say, scooting back a little.

  She raises an ey
ebrow.”Did you make out?”

  “No.”

  She snorts. “Liar.”

  “Okay, so we kissed.”

  She gives a little squeal and snatches up one of my pillows, hugging it to her chest. “So you did make out.”

  “We kissed.”

  “In a making out sort of fashion.”

  I roll my eyes and open my laptop back up, letting the screen hide my smile. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one telling what happened?”

  “Well, duh. That’s kind of what I’m trying to get you to wrap your shy little head around.” She taps me with the pillow. “Come on, spill. Tell me everything you guys did.”

  And I do. It’s strangely relieving to tell Brie about the evening, because as the words flow easily out of my mouth, they sound...normal. Not like the events of a girl with a broken life seeking help from a boy with a broken heart. Not like the latest tragedy in a long string of disasters. It just sounds like a normal girl talking to a normal friend about a normal first date with an abnormally amazing guy.

  Brie hangs on to my every word, interrupting every few sentences to blurt out, “I told you that you’d be perfect together!”

  Her excitement seems genuine, which is actually a little surprising. Her lack of a boyfriend has always seemed strange to me—Brie could probably attract any guy within a fifty-mile radius. I’d kind of suspected she might be hiding feelings for Seth, but I guess I was completely wrong. Whatever keeps her from dating, it has nothing to do with him.

  Which is good. Really good. I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if I hurt someone as sweet as Brie.

  When I finish my retelling of the evening, she suddenly points an accusing finger at my mouth. “You’re smiling.”

  I reach up and touch my lips, surprised to find she’s right.

  Brie gives me a smug look. “I told you you’d be perfect for each other.”

  I wipe at my mouth a little. “You keep saying that.”

  “And how many times did I have to say it before you actually took my advice and went out? Like fifty thousand?” She rolls her eyes. “Let me have my moment to gloat, okay?”

  I laugh a little and then nod to her. “So how about you?”

  “What about me?” she asks, drawing up her feet on the bed and sitting cross-legged.

  “We saw Nathan tonight, and he asked about you.”

  A blush colors her cheeks. “He did?”

  “Yeah. And, I mean, you obviously really like the guy, and he obviously really likes you, so...” I raise an eyebrow. “Why not go for it?”

  Her carefree smile instantly falls from her face, and she turns away from me, although her wide eyes don’t really seem to be focusing on anything.

  “Brie?”

  She flinches at the sound of her name, then blinks a few times, like she’s trying to clear her head. “Yeah. I mean no. I mean...it’s silly, okay? How I feel about him. It’d just never work out between us. I don’t know why I even bother flirting with him at all. It’d never work. It just...wouldn’t.”

  Brie hops down from the bed the moment she finishes her stilted explanation and then waves a hand toward the desk. “Look, I’ve got some homework I need to do, okay?”

  I open my mouth to apologize for upsetting her, but before I get the chance, she quickly cuts me off and says, “Look, I’m happy you’re going out with Seth. Really, I am. He needs a nice girl right now.”

  “Thanks,” I murmur, but she doesn’t sound happy at all. I have no idea what I said to upset her, but she keeps rubbing at her arms, like she’s fighting off chills. She slumps into the chair at the desk, picking absently at the corner of one of her notebooks.

  “Brie?” I say hesitantly.

  “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  She turns and looks straight at me, but I don’t think her glassy eyes really register that I’m there. “Of course. I’m totally fine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The morning after our date, Seth doesn’t show up at breakfast. At first it’s not surprising, since he’s late to everything. But by the time the others have finished eating, and I’ve finished picking at my cinnamon roll, I’m concerned. Landon stumbles into the cafeteria wearing bed-head and a grumpy scowl, and I ask him where his roommate went to. Landon just grunts something about the library as he groggily stabs his waffle with a spoon. Maddie rolls her eyes at me from across the table.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” she says. “He’s probably just cramming for that World Lit test.”

  I nod and go along with it, although I know it’s not true. Seth is a morning person, and since he has a sickening habit of actually enjoying the early hours of the day, he rarely fills them with studying. I’ve never seen him crack open a book before noon.

  The rest of the day passes slowly, like every clock on campus is just as frozen as the ground outside. I crank out an essay for my Government class, and then I spend a few hours on my laptop editing some pictures for the photo project. When I still haven’t heard from Seth by the afternoon, I send him a text asking if he’s alright. He doesn’t respond.

  Guilt gnaws at me as my fears from the first few weeks at Harting return: Does he know who I am? Could he have somehow found out? Does he despise me now?

  I manage to spend another hour in my dorm, but then I’m just too antsy to stay there any longer. I grab my cane from the corner of my room and head for Seth’s dorm. If he’s figured out who I am, and if that’s what he’s upset about, then I at least owe him an in-person apology.

  Getting inside the boys’ dorm is more difficult this time, because it’s broad daylight and more people are around. But then I spot Cameron, and he helps to quickly usher me inside, allowing me to sneak in without getting caught. I ask him what’s wrong with Seth, but he just shrugs and says he hasn’t seen him all day.

  I head down the hall and knock hesitantly at Seth’s door. When no one answers, I knock again, and a few seconds later, he snaps, “Go away!”

  I almost do. But then I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I whirl around to find Landon standing behind me, holding a plastic bag in one hand. He pounds his fist once against the door. “Dude, you’ve got a pretty girl and some drinks waiting to come inside. Now open up!”

  I glance up and down the hallway, waiting for some siren to go off at the words “girl” and “drinks.” But we’re the only ones in the hall, and it’s silent except for some really terrible seventies rock coming from a few doors down.

  “Our dorm supervisor is out for the afternoon,” Landon says to me in a quieter voice, reading the worry on my face. He doesn’t wait for me to reply before hitting the door again. “Come on, man. Open up.”

  Seth’s reply is low and strained. “Screw off, Landon. I told you, I am seriously not in the mood to drink right now.”

  Landon rolls his eyes. “The beer is for me, dipshit. I’m not going to survive your complaining otherwise.”

  Footsteps storm toward the door, and Seth yanks it open, looking like his face just got attacked by a thundercloud. The room is dim inside, and he’s not wearing his sunglasses, which lets me see that his eyes are red and rimmed with dark bags.

  “I told you I wanted some time alone,” he snaps. “So do me a favor and look up the definition of ‘alone.’ Or I can just slap you with a dictionary, and you can learn that way.”

  “Uh, dude,” Landon says, pointing a finger at me even though Seth can’t see it. “Did you not hear the part where I said there’s a pretty girl out here, too?”

  “Hi,” I squeak.

  It’s like my voice flips a switch or something. But instead of riling up his anger, Seth suddenly looks relieved and lost and sad and a whole bunch of other emotions I don’t understand.

  “Lea,” he murmurs.

  “Yeah. Look, Seth, I’m...I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what else to say.”

  His scowl is suddenly back in place, and he turns toward Landon. “You told her what happened? I said not to tell anyon
e.”

  Tell me? Why would he need to tell anything to me? Unless...maybe I’m not the person he’s upset with. He seems more pissed at Landon than he is with me, so maybe whatever happened isn’t totally my fault. Or maybe not my fault at all.

  “Landon didn’t tell me,” I say quickly. “You’re just acting strange, so I figured something bad happened.”

  Seth nods sharply. “Yeah. It did.” He suddenly heaves a sigh and takes a step back, motioning for us to come inside. “Landon, I changed my mind. Give me a beer.”

  I hesitantly walk inside their dorm room, which is even more cluttered than it was last time. Landon kicks a bunch of his dirty clothes out of my way and says, “You can take the fuzzy chair.” He points to a beanbag in the corner that’s covered in thick, shaggy fabric.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Landon,” Seth snaps. “She has a busted knee, she can’t just hop down there and back up.”

  Landon’s face turns bright red, and I place a hand on his forearm to tell him it’s alright.

  “I’ll just sit on the bed, if that’s okay,” I say.

  “Go for it,” Landon mumbles, and then he goes and collapses on the beanbag chair himself.

  I sit on the end of Seth’s bed by the door, and Seth just stands in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. Koda’s curled up at my feet on her doggy bed, and she stares up at her owner with sad eyes.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  Seth pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “My parents called last night. They’re getting divorced. Officially. They’ve talked about it a couple times, but I thought it was just that. Talk. Angry ranting. I never thought they’d actually do it.”

  I think of the family I saw during the trial—always leaning on each other for comfort, always supporting each other. And then the picture Seth’s painted of them before Parker’s death—close knit, caring, loving.

  Now all of it’s as dead as Parker.

  “I’m so, so sorry.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, and I swallow hard, trying to keep back tears.

  “Your mom will calm down,” Landon says as he pulls two beers out of the bag and cracks them open. “Seriously, man, quit freaking out. My mom has done this before. Pull out the ‘d’ word, and suddenly my dad will do whatever she wants. It’s just a manipulation tactic.” He stands up and walks over to Seth, pressing the drink into his hand. “It sucks, but it’ll blow over. Trust me.”