Goodbye and Good Luck (short story)

I walked in from the mild spring night through the back door around 8:50 to see that I had a message.  I ignored the blinking “1” for some time, going about my regular, routine business.  I said hello to the one cat I have that has a tendency to greet me whenever I’m gone for a great amount of time, this night I was at class.  I grabbed something to drink from the refrigerator, and headed up the half-spiraling staircase to the room where all my books are kept.  The entire ride home I was in the mood to sit down and read something really remarkable, all the way through, in one night.  I surveyed each shelf, tempted every now and then to reach out and make my selection, but I just could not make up my mind, there were too many choices.  Finally, I gave up and found solace simply in sitting at the table in the kitchen, which was faintly lit solely by one fluorescent light halfway across the room.
Some time later, after I had collected myself out of what would have appeared to be a catatonic state, I raised form the chair and turned around to press the “Play messages” button.  “You have one new message,” the robotic voice informed me, I stood, back turned to the phone, leaning against the counter where it sat.
“Jon, its Lin,” there was momentary silence, then she spoke again “so, hey, I’m having my going away party in this week, and, I know you’re, like, angry at me and stuff but I’d like you to come.  I know you hate parties and drunk people, but I’d just like to see you one more time before I go away for Minnesota.  You don’t have to call me back, you can just show up if you like, or don’t if you don’t want to.”  She paused again.  “So, it starts around 8 this Friday, so maybe I’ll see you, or maybe I won’t”
I stood still; continuing to lean against the counter, “Wednesday, August 15th, 2006,” the same lifeless robotic voice assured me that the message was received on that very day.  I turned around, in a way that would have been more fitting to match the voice that emerged from the answering machine, and I deleted the message.
I headed back upstairs, with a blank mind.  Headed back to the book room, and went directly, without any hesitation, for my copy of Jude the Obscure.

***

I didn’t finish the book.  I couldn’t make it past page 10 (the book began on page 9.)  My mind wouldn’t let that message go.  And with that message came every crystal clear memory of Lindsey.  The time I had to take her & her cat to an all night animal hospital, 10 at night, the only all night animal hospital in the entire god damn state, that was a good 30 minutes away.  The cat was fine; it had chipped its tooth, and suffered a consequential bout of shock, nothing more.  I remember during the whole ride there and back, and during the two hours we sat there waiting for the final analysis she kept thanking me.
Or all the other times we’d hung out, we just sat watching a movie, or going shopping at the used book store.  Or the time, driving down Lincoln, taking her to her friend Kristy’s house when the little kid, no more than 6, waved to Lindsey.  “Looks like you’ve got a fan,” I said.  She laughed slightly.  And, of course, I remembered, contrary to what I was telling myself not to do, the times I asked her out, and all the times she barely even recognized my attempts.  Flying back, with relentless force, came the memory of the night I wrote her a note, a page and a half, telling her everything.  How I thought she was one of the prettiest girls I’d ever known, that when I made fun of her for her crappy taste in music (I didn’t put ‘crappy’ in the note.) I didn’t mean to be an ass.  That was October of 2004, the same night I bought a used copy of Naked Lunch.  I called her to see if her sister was home, as at the time I was more of an acquaintance of her sister than of Lindsey.  Lin answered the phone, and I found out that her sister wasn’t home.  Immediately after the phone was laid back onto the receiver I sat at the kitchen table, pad and pen before me, and spilled all that was held inside me.  It was like raising the walls of a damn that held enough water to drown all of Los Angeles in a short period of time.  So, out I went to the used book store, I found the copy of Naked Lunch, and left.  Her house was, conveniently, on my route home.  So I made my stop, parked in front of her house.  I took the few necessary breaths needed to calm the nerves of a neurotic persona like myself, and approached the front door.
Lin answered.  She was on the phone.  She smiled, and greeted me, and I asked if her sister was home yet, which was bullshit, if her sister were sitting on the couch I still would have asked, I was so determined to see this plan through.  “She’s still not home,” all the while there was this playful spirit about her, which put me to ease.  “Oh, ok, well, I’ll call her later, I’ll see you,” and I began to turn around to leave, when I remembered, like I had forgotten in the first place, the note.
“Oh, this is for you.” I said and I handed it to her.  She took it from me, and laughed the kind of laugh a teenage girl does when she feels flattered.  I turned and walked away, after we exchanged our good-byes.
She never said a word about the note.

***

After a dull, uneventful Thursday Friday rolled around.  I was fairly proud of myself, seeing as normally whenever I have something stuck all over the walls of my mind, refusing to budge, it tends to steal my love for sleeping.  But I got more than a sufficient amount of Z’s.
I woke, went about my normal routine, and eventually, almost unnoticed, in the wink of an eye, it was almost 7:30.  I decided to not make a big deal out of what I would wear.  I’m not going there to impress anyone, to make new friends, or even engage in any amount of unnecessary discussion.  I’m going simply to grant a request.  If it even was a request, if not more of a feeble attempt to show me that she might actually give a shit about seeing me once more before she moves and gradually, quicker than anyone else she used to know, forgets about me.
I got into my car and pulled out of my parking space.  I didn’t turn on the radio, because some times I just like the sound of the wind breathing through the crack in my window, the faint sounds of people, windows closed, arguing about whatever with whoever, or sometimes with whatever.

***

Driving westward on Lincoln I arrived in no time, considering her house is only about 8 blocks away.  I was forced to park down at the end of the street, all her other friends had already arrived.  I sat in the car for about 10 minutes, just gathering myself, trying to remind myself not to lose my temper.  And most important, to remember to NOT say anything remotely hostile towards Kyle, Lindsey’s boyfriend, whose resemblance to a one children’s book witch boy was uncanny.
I got out and headed to her house.
I walked down the middle of the street, as it’s quite the docile road, every now and then contemplating, to varying degrees, turning around and just going home.  “Ok,” I said to myself.  “Go in there; make some kind of lasting impression, in a short amount of time, then leave.  No hugs, no kisses, no physical contact, just embed yourself in her mind and leave.”  Approaching the walkway I was already being bombarded with the thumping rhythm of whatever dance-rock band was trendy and utterly hip at the time.
I get a strange feeling, that in my life, I will never approach the door of a party where I hear Big Black or the Jesus Lizard blaring out of the windows.
Entering the house my senses were attacked by the thick smell of smoke and liquor, and the faintest bit of vomit.  “Vomit already? Christ,” I said to no one but myself under my breath.
I saw Lin and slowly approached her, making my way through the semi-crowded living room.  Her back turned to me; I simply stood about 4 feet behind her, looking down every now and then to get a glimpse of her ass that was more than comfortable in her tight light blue grey jeans.
Finally, in the middle of a spin, no doubt inflicted by the (terrible) music she saw me, luckily not staring.  She smiled and ran up to me and threw her arms around me.  I didn’t budge.
She let go after a few moments and she stepped back “I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” she said, half smiling, holding a plastic yellow cup of some sort of, no doubt, booze.  I simply nodded.
We stood there, awkwardly, for about a minute.  I felt no urge to speak, and, apparently, she couldn’t think of anything to say.  So, finally, I broke the silence “Remember when I took you and your cat to the hospital?”  She replied, “Yeah, that was really sweet of you, thank you so much, I’m glad nothing was wrong with Missy.”
Again, I stood there mute, quickly shooting glances in random directions, analyzing my surroundings, waiting for my moment to speak up.  Finally, the music came to a stop, it was the last track on the CD and it needed to change.
“You owe me $10 for that meaningless trip,” I said, a little more loudly than necessary, but I wanted everyone to hear.