“I have all our things. And what would I do with the van? Too late for that. I’ll make it. We’ll be okay. Survive and advance.”
Mindy was quiet again. “Where do you think you’ll be tonight? How far can you get?”
“I don’t know. Knoxville. It’s a long drive, but I think I can make it. That’s where I’m aiming, at least.”
“Knoxville, Tennessee?
“Yes, that’s where Knoxville is, yes.”
“Knoxville, Tennessee. Okay,” she said. “I’ll meet you there. We can drive the rest of the way together.”
“What? No, don’t, don’t. I don’t need you to come. Your mother needs you more. And your sister. We’ll be okay, really. Just get to Charleston.”
“Where are you staying in Knoxville?”
I sighed. I had no energy to argue with Mindy. Besides, part of me really wanted some company, some help. I was, in fact, desperate for it. “A Marriott. I don’t have the address on me.”
“I’ll find it. I’ll just tell the cab driver to take me to the tall building with electricity. There’s probably only one in Knoxville.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Tell Red Bear I’ll meet her in the hotel bar. Bye, Dad.”
I shook my head, then slid Ethan’s orange juice glass back to him. “Bye, sweetheart.”
*
After an early but good lunch in a ghost of town called Williamsburg; and after an impromptu, very short, and very disappointing stop at Cumberland Falls (the falls, Ethan and I agreed, weren’t all that impressive); and after an impromptu, not very short, and very rewarding poo-poo stop at another Cracker Barrel (his crap, Ethan and I agreed, was very impressive); and after a stop at a McDonald’s for Sprites where the bears vocalized their love and respect for me (Red Bear: “I know I speak for all of us when I say there is no finer man or father than you, John Nichols”—me: “Well, thank you, Red Bear, thank you”—Red Bear: “Now … you wouldn’t happen to have anything stronger than Sprite, would you?”), we arrived in Knoxville right on schedule. Consequently, I was in good spirits when we pulled into the parking lot of the cavernous Marriott on the banks of the Tennessee River.
“Well, that was a Blue Highway kind of morning,” I said as we bounded up to the reception desk. “We got a chance to see a waterfall, have lunch. You were good today, buddy, real good. And now we’re by a big river. Lots. Of. Water. Don’t. Fall. In!”
“Yes. Ma’am!”
The clerk behind the desk, a young guy with thick-framed glasses and too much aftershave, glanced up from behind his computer and gave me the trying-to-act normal-around-Ethan smile. I appreciated the effort.
I smiled back at him. “We’d like a room on the first floor.”
He punched some keys, looked up again, and nodded. “Thank you for being a Marriott Gold member, Mr. Nichols.”
My chest swelled, and I bowed my head. “You are most welcome,” I said humbly.
Since we were early, we had to cool our heels while they readied our room. Ethan was compliant, absorbed in an old batteryless cell phone I had brought from home, a favorite of his. He punched the numbers officiously, mouth open, as we sat in some chairs just off the bar. Blessedly, there had been no trace of Tonto since breakfast.
“You like that phone, huh? Watch the roaming charges though!”
I sat back and watched Ethan work the phone. His face was serious but content as he pressed more numbers and then pretended to listen.
“Who are you calling?”
“Mom.”
“What’s she up to?”
“Poo-poo.”
“Good for her. Give her my best. Tell her I love her and always will.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think she loves me?”
“Shut. Up. Idiot.”
“Did she tell you to tell me that?”
“Yes.”
“She’s the best. Such a sweetheart.” I smiled and continued to watch him. Calm, happy. I never took his quiet moments for granted. I sat back, crossed my legs.
“Who are you calling now?”
“Mindy!”
“Old Mindy. Funny, funny, famous, little Mindy. You don’t think she’s gay, do you?”
“Yes!”
“Really? Not that it matters. I mean, it doesn’t, right? I would like grandkids though. I know that’s selfish, but I would. I guess she could still have them somehow though.”
“Yes!”
“Adopt or something.”
“Yes!”
“You would be Uncle Ethan, and I would be Grandpa. No, I mean, I would be Super Grandpa. Hey, here comes Super Grandpa! That has a nice ring to it. Super Grandpa.”
Ethan smiled, put the phone down, then said, “Oh!” and picked it right back up.
“Who you calling now?”
“Um, Karen!”
“Karen?” I sat up. “That’s right. I should call her too.”
Just as I was pulling my own phone out, it went off. The number wasn’t immediately familiar, and even though it was a risk—Rita was still at large—I answered.
“Hello?”
“Here’s Johnny!”
My heart sank. “Hey, Sal.” I stifled the “Oh, shit!” that had started to come out.
“Sal!” Upon hearing his uncle’s name, Ethan tried to grab the phone. I pressed the speaker button and gladly gave it up.