Mindy didn’t say anything.
I shrugged. “You two did a lot of skits together. I noticed that.”
Mindy pulled out her phone then immediately put it away.
“No service in the Deep South?”
She slid down in her seat. “I’m not gay, Dad.”
I jumped. “What?”
“Mom told me you think I’m gay.”
“I never said that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I’m not sure what she told you.” You can’t tell that woman anything, I thought.
“I’m not gay. I would tell you if I were. It’s not like some big deal, okay? I don’t like meeting guys, the whole dating thing, that’s all. I don’t have time.”
“Okay … I’m not exactly sure how you can get married if you don’t like meeting guys and the whole dating thing, but okay.”
“Who says I want to get married? Why would I ever want to do that? You and Mom weren’t exactly a commercial for it.”
“You know, you’re right; this is none of my business.”
“It’s not.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
I turned the radio back on.
“Off!” Ethan yelled.
I turned it off, drove awhile, then glanced back. Ethan was studying the distant mountains with his mouth open, a sure indication that he was thinking, absorbing, pondering. I wondered what he thought of the mountains, how he was processing them. He had spent his entire life in Illinois, and had never seen anything like them before. I regretted not having time to pull over and explain them to him.
“Mountains,” I said. “Big hills.”
“I know what mountains are.”
“I’m talking to Ethan.”
A few minutes later we plunged into a short tunnel, which utterly amazed and frightened him.
“Wow! Dark! Dark! Where. Sun. Be?” He leaned forward and took hold of my shoulder.
“Yes, dark.” I reached up and patted his hand. “But we’re just about out. See, all done. Sit back now. Go on. All done.”
He sat back. “All. Done!”
“So, are you and Mom going to get back together?”
My heat skipped a beat. “Sit back, Ethan. All the way! “I swallowed and took my time before answering. “What? Why would you ask that?”
“You’re probing me about my love life. Why can’t I probe you about yours?”
I swallowed again. “Not that I’m aware of.” I waited a moment, then, “What brought that on?”
“I don’t know. You’re not with what’s-her-name.…”
“That’s been over for a long, long time. And I was only with her.”
“And Mom isn’t with anyone. She’s never been with anyone, as far as I know.”
I pretended to fiddle with the air conditioner. “Did she say something?”
“No. I’m just asking. You seem to spend a lot of time together. I mean, you live one block from each other. Not many divorced people live one block from each other.”
“We actually live three blocks from each other. And it’s because of Ethan. It’s just easier.”
“She misses you,” Mindy said. “She talks about you a lot. Do you miss her?”
“You know, let’s not talk for a while. I want to concentrate on the road. Get there.”
“Whatever you say, Daddy-o, whatever you say.” She smirked and moved her seat back some. “So, are we driving straight through or what?”
“We won’t make it.”
“How far are we?”
“Normal distance or Ethan distance? Normal distance, we’re only about five, six hours away. Double or maybe triple that with him, though.”
“I bet we can make it. He’s quiet now.”
“We can’t make it.”
“Yes, we can.”
“No, we can’t.”
“You have to push him sometimes, Dad. You give in to him too much. He manipulates you. He tangles you up in knots.”
I looked over at her. “Tangled up in knots” was an old expression/accusation from the War Years. Dad, he’s tangling you up in knots! Just let him yell.
“It’s been a while since you’ve spent quality time with your baby brother. I have a reservation in Asheville, North Carolina. I’ll be happy if we make that.”
“We can make it to Charleston,” she said. “I’m here now. There’s two of us. Let’s just drive through and get there and get this over with. Everything’s going to be okay. Isn’t that right, Ethan?” She turned and slapped Ethan five. The Starbucks must have been really strong.
“Nice. Outside!” Ethan yelled, smiling.