“He’ll be very happy there. They have activities. He’ll be busy. He’s going to love it. Hey, you’re going to miss your flight.”
“You got that cash, the money for Ethan? I want you to buy something nice for him. Or spread it around up there, give it to his teachers or whomever. Make sure they take care of him. Tell them I’ll send more money. Every month. Cash. No one needs to know.”
“We’ll buy something nice for him. Thank you. And you don’t have to send any more money.”
“I’m going to miss the hell out of him, you know that?”
“I know that. You can visit anytime.”
“Who goes to Maine?”
“He’ll be home at Thanksgiving. And three weeks at Christmas. And three weeks next summer. It’s like he’s going to college. Think of it that way. Karen left, Mindy left. It’s his turn.”
“Everyone leaves.” Sal jingled his change again, his dark eyes switching between me and Ethan. “So, she’s on board with this all of a sudden? Your wife? Ex-wife? Seemed pretty upset last night.”
I glanced at Mary, who was standing by the revolving doors, saying her good-byes to Sally. “She’s fine with it,” I said, but not very convincingly.
“Well, if he stays, if you decide that, I’m going to come out there and see him later this summer. Never been to Maine.”
“That would be great.”
“Sal! Come on!” Sally yelled.
“I gotta go. Get over here.” He bear-hugged me.
“Thanks again, Sal. Thank you for the help with the wedding and everything, the calls.”
“I’ll be in touch.” He squeezed me hard one last time. “Take care of the girls. And you let me know if you see him—”
“I don’t think we’ll be seeing any more of Roger.”
“Sal! Now! Come on. Now!”
“She’s waiting. Go on.”
He blew a final kiss in Ethan’s direction, grabbed the handle of his suitcase, and trudged off. As I watched him walk away, shoulders stooped, I suddenly wished he were making the trip north with us. Despite his buffoonery, he was someone I could count on when it came to Ethan.
“Hey,” I called out. “Salvatore.”
He turned.
“Have a safe flight, all right?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, all right.”
*
After we went to Enterprise and rented a brand-new red Honda Odyssey; and after I carefully transferred Stinky, Red, and Grandpa Bear, as well as other key Ethan accoutrements to the second van; and after I conferred with Mindy on the route, using my old-school Rand McNally atlas (Mindy: “What’s with the map? What, you couldn’t find a globe?”); and after I handed out water bottles and granola bars to everyone; and after I yanked Ethan’s water bottle away from him when he started hitting Mindy on the shoulder with it, I slid into the original Odyssey and buckled up.
“Ready?” I said to Karen
She nodded/shrugged, kept her eyes in a book.
“Okay then.” I readjusted the rearview mirror, cheerfully waved to Mindy in the rental behind me, and started off.
The plan was to drive to Myrtle Beach, about four hours away, Ethan time, and a straight shot up Route 17. Originally, I thought we’d drive northwest into the heart of South Carolina, toward Columbia, but I reconsidered after consulting my map. While Route 17 was a slower drive, it would be easier for Mindy to follow. There would also be more places to stop if and when Ethan acted up.
It was late, already approaching lunchtime, when we set off on the two-lane highway. I glanced at the sky, gray as a Confederate, then flicked on the radio.
“Can you turn it off? I’m getting a headache,” Karen said.
“Sure. Sorry. Do you want some aspirin? I have some in the back somewhere.”
“I already took some.”
I turned the radio off. “What kind did you take?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I just took aspirin. It wasn’t Valium. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Fine.”
“You looked tired.”
“Thanks.”
We drove a few more miles in silence. I kept glancing in the mirror, wondering how things were going in the other van. Ethan had been agitated at breakfast, licking the silverware and even yelping loudly once. I was sure he was finally sensing our tension, and was acting out.
“Too bad we couldn’t all drive together, but this is better,” I said. “We need a lifeboat, a quiet van, so we can take breaks. We got a good rate on the rental. Only sixty-five dollars a day.”
Karen turned a page.
“Unlimited miles. And I can leave it in Maine for no extra charge.”
Karen didn’t seem all that interested in the specifics of the rental agreement. She kept reading.
“What book is that?”
“Gone Girl.”
“I never read that. How is it?”
“Inspiring.”
I checked the mirror again. Mary, who was in the passenger seat, appeared to be turning around. I thought I could see the back of her head. “Why is she sitting in front? She should be in the back with him.”
“Ethan should have come with us,” Karen said.