It's. Nice. Outside. (19 page)

“You already took him twice,” Karen said.“Don't run off.”

I smiled. “Who's running off?”

“Let me save everyone a shitload of time,” Mindy said. “We don't want you do take him there. That's it in a nutshell, Dad.”

“Okay, now I'm confused. I thought you said you were willing to come up and look at the place.”

“We never said that,” Karen said.

This was a bit of head-scratching, so I actually scratched my head. “Well,” I said, “I think the fact that you're here, on the road with me, sitting here at this restaurant, at this hotel, implies that. You've also been driving all day in case you've forgotten that. I thought we agreed we would all go up there together and then make the final decision.”

“We changed our minds,” Karen said. “There's no point in driving all the way up there. It's going to take forever. So let's just save the time and head home. If anything, he should be at a place in Chicago.”

I issued what would be my last smile of the evening. “First of all, in case you've forgotten, neither of you lives in Chicago anymore, so I don't know why that matters.” I turned to Mary. “Isn't that right?”

“She has a valid point, John. Chicago is our home. I don't think we've exhausted all the possibilities.”

I could feel my smile retracting. “There's nothing available in Chicago, you know that. We've been through this. And I thought you agreed to come up there with me and take another look. I don't understand. A minute ago you were asking what the place cost. I'm sorry, but this is all very confusing.”

“Mom,” Karen said.

Mary straightened her silverware, briefly touched her throat. “You just sprang this on me, us. And I think the girls have good points. Maine is too far. We don't need to drag him up there if we're just going to say no.”

“Wow, the girls really got to you, didn't they?”

“No one got to me,” Mary said.

“It's pretty obvious what you're doing.” This from Karen.

I sat back in my chair and looked down at the table. “Okay, and what am I doing?”

“You're taking him as far away as possible so you don't have to see him,” she said. “It's pretty obvious. If he were in Chicago, you'd have to see him all the time, visit, get involved with the place, the home. This way you won't.”

I had had enough. It was now my turn to lean forward. “That is
not
true. That is
not
true at all. First of all, this is far and away the best place we saw. Far and away. And, as soon as I retire, I'll go out there. I'll spend summers out there. And he'll come home for all the holidays and—”

“I have to agree there, Dad,” Mindy said. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

I felt my skin turning hot. “That is
not
true,” I said again.

“Maybe Mindy and I can split watching him. I can afford help. We both can. She makes a lot of money.”

“I don't make that much money,” Mindy said. “You probably make more.”

I tried to keep my voice even and low, but I wasn't having much success. “I appreciate the offer. But you two can't even
look
at each other, much less raise Ethan together. Maybe if I had different daughters. Maybe if we were a normal family, things could have been different.”

“A normal family,” Mindy said.

“So it's our fault?” Karen asked.

“It's no one's fault,” I said. “But your relationship played a part in your mother's and my decision.”

“I haven't decided anything,” Mary said.

“Normal family? You're the one who left our family, Dad. You're the one who went off and fucked that other woman,” Karen said.

“What does that have to do with this?” I threw my napkin down on the table and stood up.

“Where. Dad. Going?”

“Sit down, John. You're upsetting Ethan.”

“I'm not upsetting—”

“Sit down, John!”

I sat back down.

“Why. Mad?”

Ethan was getting agitated, his bottom lip jutting out, a sure indicator of a pending meltdown. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and handed to him. He eagerly took it, his lip receding.

“Let's talk about this later,” I said. “When he's not around. This is not the time.”

Mary actually laughed. “We don't have time. You're forcing this decision.”

“So are you with them or me?” I asked her.

“I'm with Ethan. I want what's best for him. This isn't about you,” Mary said. “We're just having a discussion here. Everyone gets their say. We should have had this discussion all along. Maybe we should go home and decide there, talk more. The girls have valid points, and they should weigh in.”

“We're going to lose the spot! They'll fill it. There's a waiting list. All the good places have waiting lists years long. This is the right time.”

“The right time for what? To write your next book? Fuck another woman?” Karen said. “You think your entire life is going to get better once you dump him. You blame him for everything. It's not his fault. It's not his fault that you never wrote another book, Dad.”

“I don't blame him for anything.”

“You kind of do,” Mindy said. “You blame him for the affair, you blame him for not writing, you blame him for being a high-school teacher your whole life even though I know you don't like teaching anymore, for not traveling, for drinking.”

“I like being a teacher. And I don't drink that much.”

“Ethan has been your excuse for years,” Karen said.

This was obviously a coordinated attack, an ambush, and much worse than I could have anticipated. Mary, with her half-moon earrings, had lulled me into a false sense of security at the bar. I stood back up. “Do you know how hard my life has been? Do you?”

“Save it, Dad,” Karen said. “He's been your excuse for everything. You're always walking around in an Ethan daze. You weren't even going to make my wedding. You were going to be late, probably miss it.”

“That's kind of a moot point,” Mindy mumbled.

Karen wheeled on Mindy. “At least I date men. At least I'm capable of having normal relationships. At least I don't have to go on TV and wet my pants in some kind of pathetic attempt to get attention. At least I live in the real world and I'm not some bitter, cynical, class clown who hates everything and everyone. So fuck you.”

“You fuck you,” Mindy said.

“Stop it! Both of you! You're acting like little girls. And that goes for you too,” I said, pointing at Mary. “All of you. I'm the one who pays the price if he stays.”

“Pays the price!” Mary said. “He's with me half the time.”

“He's with me a lot more than he's with you. You know that! You always have some excuse. Your headaches. Sally.”

“That's true, Mom, it seems you don't see him that much,” Mindy said. “Maybe if you took him more, we wouldn't have this problem.”

“You punt him off on Dad,” Karen said.

“Punt him off?” Mary's eyes flared.

“Yeah, punt him,” Karen said. “Every time I call, he's at Dad's.”

“I have him as much as your father does, probably more! I don't know what he's telling you!”

“I'm not telling them anything.”

Mindy: “You're always bitching, Dad.”

Karen: “You're always hiding behind Ethan.”

Mary: “You're always complaining. And I'm
sorry
my sister has cancer!” Now it was she who stood. “Let's go, Ethan.”

Ethan, who had been absorbed in the phone, looked up and bounced his eyes between Mary and me. “Where. Go?”

“To our room. We can eat dinner there. Come on.”

“No! Eat. Pickle!”

“Yes.” She tried to take his hand, but he pulled free.

“No. Eat!”

“Fine,” Mary said. She snatched her red bag and stormed off. A second later the girls pushed their chairs back.

“We're leaving at eight tomorrow,” I managed to say.

“Why. Mad?” Ethan asked. “Why. Mad?”

The girls left with their mother; I watched all three of them march away in a military file.

“I'm not mad,” I said between clenched teeth. “I'm not mad.”

 

8

The next morning, since we were no longer speaking and since driving hundreds of miles together was apparently no longer a realistic or desired option, Karen and Mindy, independently and unbeknown to me, arranged to have two rental cars dropped off at the hotel. With the exception of Ethan, everyone now had their own vehicle.

We gathered silently in the lobby around eight, presumably, I hoped, for a détente breakfast, when the cars pulled up. As soon as I saw the drivers hand Mindy and Karen their keys, I realized what was happening, and I lost it.

“Your own cars? Are you kidding? This is nuts! You two are impossible!” I expanded my glare to include Mary. “All of you! Do me a favor, and don't come.”

“Fine!” Karen said. “Just leave Ethan.”

“No, he's coming with me!”

“Then we're coming,” Mindy said.

“Go home! Everyone!”

“John, let's talk.”

“I'm done talking, and I'm done with all of you.” With that, I grabbed Ethan's hand and bolted from the hotel.

*   *   *

“I'm surprised Stinky Bear didn't get his own car,” I said as we pulled onto the highway.

My plan was to drive to I-40, then eventually hook up with I-95, which would take me all the way to Maine. From now on, it was straight-shot interstate, no sponging
Blue Highway
moments, no side trips or authentic southern BBQ restaurants, no resort hotels. I wanted to get there as fast as I could. I wanted to get this ordeal over with.

“Just you and me again,” I said to Ethan. “Just you and me.”

“Stinky. Bear.”

“And Stinky Bear.”

“Red. Bear. Grandpa. Bear.”

“Those guys too. Forget everyone else. We don't need them. I hope they all get flat tires. Ha! Can you imagine Mindy trying to change a tire? Karen? Ha! The little princesses. Your mother too. All of them!”

I drove with insane intent, never bothering to check on how the convoy behind me was faring. My free throws the night before had not helped, and I had slept little, fuming in my pillow, my anger, my hurt (as well as my guilt), escalating over what had transpired at dinner.

I suspected I wasn't acting rationally, suspected I was at a breaking point, in fact, maybe had already broken, but I didn't care. I moved up my seat close to the steering wheel, pressed the gas, and tried to lose myself in the rush of road: sixty, sixty-five, seventy miles per hour. The land was flat, uninspiring, the day gray and indifferent. I was, by nature, a slow and distracted driver, but I wanted to fly now. Ethan amused himself with an Etch A Sketch and I kept both hands on the wheel and we sped on.

Seventy-five, eighty.

The girls' words had drawn blood. Was this how they saw me? Selfish? A drunk? A failure? Was I that big of a disappointment? Had they a right to expect more? Had they a right to judge me?

Eighty, eighty-five.

When we passed the exit for Wilmington and my phone went off, I silenced it. When I thought I heard honking behind me, I ignored it.

I had not asked for this life. Ethan had happened, and everything after that had followed. I did the best I could. Every day, every minute, every second, I did the best I could.

“Do they think I want to do this? Do they?” I said this out loud, my voice tight.

Ethan glanced up from the Etch A Sketch.

“This is a very, very tough decision, very tough. But someone has to make it. Sooner or later someone has to make it. So I made it. I made it. I'm your father, and I know what's best. No one loves you more than me, no one!” I shook my head, pounded the steering wheel, the Doubt and Guilt overwhelming me. “I don't want to do this, but I have to, okay? I have to! It's the right move, the right move. It's a good place, a good place.”

“Why. Mad?”

“I'm not mad. I'm not mad.”

I wiped away a tear, and Ethan went back to the Etch A Sketch.

*   *   *

We stopped at a gas station to fuel up and go to the bathroom. As Ethan and I made our way back across the parking lot, Mindy popped out from behind my van. I jumped when I saw her.

“What's with the driving?” she said. “It's like a bad chase scene.”

I scanned the lot, saw Karen in her Honda, sitting low in her seat like a gangbanger, giving me the evil eye. “Where's your mother?”

Before she could answer, I cut her off. “I don't know why you're all even following me. I'm taking him there. This isn't your or Karen's decisions. So, if you think you're going to talk me out of this, you are very mistaken. So leave us alone. Go back to your celebrity world with big-headed Will Ferrell, and let me handle Ethan. I know what's best for him. And this is best, this is best!”

Mindy scowled, then stormed back to her car and slammed the door. I thought she might have given me the finger, but I wasn't sure because the sun was glaring off her window.

“Mom!” Ethan yelled. “Hello! Hello! Hello!”

Mary jumped out of her van. “Exactly what is your problem? Are you trying to get us all killed?
”

I tried to stare her down, but despite my anger, I couldn't, and just looked at the ground. “I'm in a hurry.”

“A hurry? Do you think you can outrun us? Is that what you're trying to do? You can't do this unless I agree, so there's no point to that.”

“I'm going,” I said. “I'm taking him up there, and you'll sign everything.”

“You're acting crazy!”

“I don't care.”

She assessed me through round sunglasses before saying, “He's coming with me. Come on, Ethan. You drive with me. Mom.”