The Good Goodbye Read Online Free Page A

sidewalk. Rain taps my head and shoulders. Keys. Where are my keys? I fumble in my bag, clutch at the metal ring. Theo’s talking, asking questions. His face is lit by orange neon. I watch his mouth move and try to answer. My words come out jumbled. I hear a loud whooshing, realize it’s my blood pounding in my ears.
    Theo grabs my arm. “I’ll drive.”
    We inch through traffic lights. I press my foot against the floorboard as though I can force Theo’s foot to punch the pedal harder. I’m trapped in this car and it’s not going fast enough. “Take 295.”
    “New York’s quicker.”
    “Not this time of night.”
    Rain smears the windshield. The dark road leaps from side to side. Oncoming headlights, the sailing blare of a car horn.
    Theo glances over. “Your seat belt.”
    I fumble for it. He leans across and drags the belt over my lap. “Call your mom.”

    Yes, my mom. The boys. I pull my phone from my bag and stare at the display. I have to think before I press my own home number. “Mom?”
    “Mm?”
    I’ve woken her. “Arden’s been in an accident. We’re on our way to the hospital.” Each word nails this down.
    “What?” Now she’s alert.
    “She was in a fire. She jumped out her dorm window to escape it.”
    My mother gasps and I squeeze my eyes shut. Four stories high.
    “Oh, my God. Is she—”
    “She’s in critical condition. She’s…she’s unconscious.” She’s suffered trauma to multiple parts of her body. We are doing everything we can to stabilize her. I’m having trouble breathing. I press my hand to my chest.
    “What happened? Is she burned?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “What about smoke inhalation?”
    “Mom, I don’t know !”
    Silence. “I’ll call your father.”
    “Yes. Fine.” I don’t care.
    A highway sign looms up out of the darkness. We’re still so far away. Hold on, Arden. Hold on, sweetheart. I’m coming.
    “What else can I do? Should I come to the hospital?”
    “No. The boys.” I struggle to latch on to something solid, routine. “Soccer. They have a game tomorrow.”
    “I can take them.” She sounds relieved to have a task.
    I press END , then redial. The hospital operator answers. “How may I direct your call?”
    “Someone just phoned me about my daughter. She was in a fire…”
    “Hold, please.”

    The rain comes harder, pounding the roof. Faraway lights blur in the wet.
    “Anything?” Theo’s focused on the road, his mouth set. The needle on the odometer nudges seventy-five, eighty.
    “I’m still on hold.”
    “Try Rory.”
    Yes. She’ll know something. But Rory doesn’t answer. All I get is her merry voice telling me to Go ahead and do it. You know you want to. The beep sounds. I open my mouth to leave a message, but I’m suddenly flooded by all the things I want to say. Words clog my throat, choking. In the end, I hang up without saying any of them.
    Theo puts his hand on my knee. “Hang on. We’re almost there.”
    Your daughter has a tattoo? the man had asked.
    Yes. A small green-and-purple butterfly.
    In the distance, sirens shriek.
    —
    The emergency room’s a blaze of light. The woman at the information desk says she’ll get a doctor to talk to us; we just need to take a seat in the waiting room. Theo finds us chairs but I can’t sit. I want to run down the hall, banging on doors until one opens to reveal Arden. People in lab coats walk down the hall toward us. I look at each of them in turn, searching their eyes. Are they going to take us to our daughter? But they walk past. “What’s taking so long? Why don’t they just tell us where she is?”
    “Someone will be out soon.” Theo’s face is ashen.
    “She needs us.” The time Arden fell off her bike and split open her chin; the time she ran a fever so high she trembled, her eyes wide and fixed on mine. She must be so scared. Then I realize she’s not scared. She’s unconscious. I’m the one who’s afraid, who needs to see her face, to hold her, to