This appeared to impress her. She nodded at this disclosure. “A bookie. Sounds interesting. What do they do, exactly?”
“Make book. Take bets. Technically, it’s illegal. I think he works, or at least worked, with some people in Las Vegas—that’s all I know for sure. But he’s also an accountant, a CPA. He works for legitimate restaurants and casinos. Does the books for them in Las Vegas and other places. Atlantic City, he does a lot of work there.”
“So he’s a numbers guy for the mob.”
“Numbers guy? Where are you getting this from? He’s not in the mob, okay? He may, you know, know some people, but trust me, he’s not in the mob.”
“He’s in the mob, and I’m going to out him,” Mindy said. “I going to force him to give it up, come clean once and for all. It will be good for him.”
“He’s not in the mob.”
Mindy stretched out her legs and scooted down lower on the bench. “Well, whatever he does, he must do pretty well. Their house is huge. And he’s always had tickets to everything. The World Series, the Super Bowl. And the summer home in Green Lake. That boat.”
“A lot of that is your aunt’s money. Sal does okay, but your grandfather, Pappa Prio, he had the money.”
“Is that why you married Mom, because she was loaded?”
“I had no idea your mother came from a wealthy family when we met. And I couldn’t have cared less.”
“Money doesn’t hurt,” she said.
“That’s one problem we never had, I guess.”
Mindy nodded toward Ethan, who was now swinging high, pumping his legs at just the right moment with just the right rhythm. “He’s so good at that,” she said.
“Yeah. Now, if I can just get him to take a shower by himself.”
“I used to try to get him to do this. I tried forever. Look at him now, though.”
I turned and smiled at her, happy she was proud of Ethan. “What’s with the earring?” I touched the top of her ear. “I think you missed your lobe or something.”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Just an earring.”
“We should probably go,” I said. “I’d like to get to Asheville before dark. At the rate we’re going, we’ll never make it.”
“Do you remember when Ethan had that seizure? When he was little?”
Her question came from deep left field, and it caught me off guard. “What made you think of that?”
“Do you think that affected him? Made him worse?”
“No. That had no lasting impact on him. That’s what they said.”
“He almost died, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He was five. Yes. That was a bad time.”
“I found him on the basement floor.”
“I remember. I know you did.” I reached out and touched her arm.
“There’s been a lot of bad times with him,” she said.
“Some good ones too. But it’s never been easy.”
Mindy chewed on her lip and continued to stare hard at Ethan. “What’s going to happen to him, Dad? Where’s he going to end up?”
This question, soft and sincere, also shook me. “Why are you asking that?”
“I don’t know, just wondering.”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m not sure.”
“What are you thinking? You must have some kind of plan, right?”
“We have some options we’re looking at, yes.”
“Like what?”
“Homes, different places. Anyway, we better get going.” I stood abruptly. Ethan was swinging higher than ever, his smiling face up full to the sky.
“Up. High!” he yelled. “Up! High!”
“Let’s go, dude-man. Come on, let’s go.” I made my way to the swings quickly, making sure to keep my back to Mindy.
6
The next morning dawned steel gray and cool. I stood at the window in my room and scanned the sky, looking for the hope of sun, then glanced down and took in the streets of Asheville, North Carolina. Unfortunately, my room overlooked the parking lot, so what I saw didn’t reveal much other than the roofs of cars and a huge air-conditioning unit.
I finished my coffee and gazed up at a range of hazy blue mountains, humpback shapes brooding in the distance, and thought about what I would do if things were different, if I were on my own. I was in a strange and wild part of America, western North Carolina: forested mountains, hidden lakes, long and deep rivers, a place I had never been to before, and I doubted I would ever be in again. I imagined what I could discover if I were untethered, free to roam. When embarking on his journey some forty years prior, William Least Heat-Moon had written that a man who couldn’t make things go right, could at least go. I felt a sudden urge to just go that morning, outrun my life and flee.