Joanna looked away. Everything about her mother was startling her today. The old Catherine, the one she’d finally begun to figure out, wouldn’t have asked something so indelicate. Maybe it was the sail club’s influence. Maybe it was the case of Marjorie’s sex toys under the sink.
The metaphorical elephant had been lingering the whole drive to Maryland. First Scott volunteering to take his car instead of hers, then following Joanna back to her house, then Joanna climbing into his car, and Scott speeding the whole way down I-95 in the passing lane for the pure, aggressive enjoyment of it. The unanswered question hung between them. Had Scott gone to the meeting at Swithin today, or was he missing it by coming with her to Maryland? He’d answered the door dressed in khakis that almost fit. His hair looked different, and after a moment, Joanna realized it was clean. Clearly going to the meeting had crossed his mind. Scott’s phone had rung a few times on the drive, and Joanna saw Sylvie’s name in the caller ID window. Scott had clapped it shut, expressionless.
Scott gazed across the barroom. There was an empty dartboard directly opposite them, a chalkboard beside it, and a Miller Lite schedule of the University of Maryland football season. Another bartender, a ropy-armed woman with stringy blonde hair that hung in her eyes, yanked down the tap and shoved a smudged beer mug underneath. “Actually,” Scott said in a faraway voice. “No one has asked me. You’re the first.”
Catherine pressed her lips together. “Oh.”
Scott looked at Joanna. “Can you believe no one has asked me directly?”
Joanna sat back in her chair. “Well, I …” She swallowed. “Yes. I guess I can.”
“So were they beating up one another or not?” Catherine goaded.
Scott’s face clouded. He took a breath, as if about to speak. Then there was the sound of breaking glass from across the bar. Everyone looked over.
A sausage-biceped man in a sleeveless shirt lunged toward another man in a plaid button-down. “You didn’t just say that,” the first man said. He had a burly beard that concealed most of his face. “Tell me you didn’t say that, you piece of shit.”
“You’re the piece of shit,” the plaid-shirted man spat. “You and that bitch you live with.”
“Oh dear,” Catherine said under her breath. “Not again.”
Now the men were shoving each other. One bumped into a stool, sending it flying. More glass broke. The karaoke ceased, and the girl on the stage—as well as everyone else in the bar—turned to stare. The men shouted more, and then the guy in the plaid shirt hit the bearded guy in the jaw. It made a cracking sound, louder than Joanna would have imagined. The bearded man in the sleeveless shirt clutched his face for a moment but quickly began swinging again. He groped for a dart on the dartboard and raised it into the air, his eyes loony and enraged. Everyone on the opposite side of the bar moved out of the way. “Let’s just calm down now!” called an anonymous voice. The room began to smell pungently of spilled beer.
“We should get out of here,” Scott said. Robert materialized from out of nowhere, quickly whisking Catherine toward the door. As they made a beeline for the exit, Joanna stared at Scott’s back. What had he been about to say? A denial? A confession? She wondered, suddenly, how she’d feel about Scott if he actually did indirectly abet this boy’s death. Would her attraction for him instantly vanish?
They could still hear the shouting from the gravel parking lot. Robert helped Catherine into the back seat and patted the hood in farewell. Joanna swung into the driver’s seat. Her ears rang from the loud music. The image of that man’s face as he held the dart swam before her eyes. “Are there a lot of fights at that bar?” she asked, feeling out of breath.
Catherine wrapped her leopard-print scarf tight around her neck. “Oh, some, I suppose.”
“What are you doing going to a bar like that, anyway?” Joanna cried.
“It could’ve gotten dangerous,” Scott added. “Someone might have had a gun.”
Catherine tittered. “A gun? Please. Those two boys that were fighting are best friends. They’ll be drinking together in a half hour!” She leaned forward and touched their shoulders. “You two are so sweet to care.”
Everything was the inverse of what it should be. Joanna rolled the windows down and started to back out of the lot. The night was sticky and unusually warm, and she could smell the salty, swampy Chesapeake a few blocks over. As Joanna peered out into the darkness, she saw the round, glowing eyes of a nocturnal animal staring back at her.
She held its gaze for a moment in silent communion. The animal’s eyes shone like silver. A few seconds passed, and then, given an invisible signal, the animal whipped around and disappeared into the darkness.