*
I drove faster than I should have through some place called Francis Marion National Forrest. From time to time I caught glimpses of the ocean on my right, but I was inured to the scenery. Karen’s words had stung, and rather than the usual guilt, I felt anger. She had no right to say what she had said. None. She spent, at most, what, a few hours with Ethan a year, and had long ago forgotten what it was like. I had nothing to apologize for and nothing to explain, especially to her. I had made this decision with everyone’s best interests in mind, and I was sticking to my plan. This was the best I could do.
My phone buzzed the moment I emerged from the forest.
“I think we need to take a break,” I heard Mary say. There was some commotion in the background, and I had a hard time hearing what she said after that.
“What?”
“Things are getting bad!” she yelled.
“What? Oh. Okay. All right. Can you make it to the next town? It’s not that far.”
The noise intensified. Ethan, I thought, was crying.
“Will you please shut up? Shut up now! You’re impossible!” Mary yelled.
“What’s happening? What’s he doing?”
“Pull over now!”
I flipped on my blinker. “Is he that bad?” I yelled.
Mary yelled back. “He’s not the problem!”
*
“I’m sorry, but she’s such a bitch,” Mindy said.
“Can you watch what you say?” I glanced in the mirror instinctively, looking for Ethan, until I remembered he was still in the other van, then pulled back onto the highway.
I had envisioned this trip many times, constructed many scenarios, both bad and good, but none of my permutations, none of my calculations, had included this particular situation. My anger with Karen vanished as I assumed my familiar and permanently assigned role of the family—fixer, Mr. Make It Right.
Ignoring the fact that I had just thrown Karen out of the van, I said, “You have to be patient with her. She’s under a lot of stress.”
“I don’t give a shit about her stress! I’ve been hearing about her stress since I was eight years old!”
“There’s no point in yelling.”
“I’m not yelling.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re yelling. Almost positive, in fact.”
Mindy took out her phone then jammed it back into her hoodie pocket. “Why can’t we get any service here? Where are we? I’m sick of this place. Bunch of Southern fucking rednecks.”
“It’s not the South’s fault you had a fight with your sister.”
Mindy sunk low in her seat, her bottom lip protruding, pouting, like a ten-year-old.
“Just curious … I know it’s none of my business, but exactly what happened back there? Did she pull your hair or something, make a funny face?”
“Don’t make a joke out of this.”
“What happened?”
“She’s just a bitch.”
“Come on. You have to remember what she just went through, what’s she going through, okay? She was supposed to leave on her honeymoon in a few days. Bali.”
Mindy was unimpressed. She crossed her arms and closed her eyes.
“You and your sister have to make an effort. We’re going to be together for a while. This was your decision to come on this trip. I didn’t force you to come. So we may as well make it as pleasant as possible. A family vacation. We never took one.”
“Do not use the word vacation on this trip. Do not.”
I passed an exit for Georgetown, moved into the right lane, checked on the other van, purposely sighed so Mindy could hear me, purposely sighed again to make sure she heard me, and drove on.
I had no idea what had transpired in the other van. No idea what had transpired with Mindy and Karen, period. Years ago their relationship had somehow and without warning jumped tracks. Was it simply a bad case of sibling rivalry, jealousy, as Mindy said? Or had the strain and stress of growing up with Ethan played a part? Or was it my fault, the affair, the divorce? Was their relationship somehow a reflection or a consequence of my failings, my parenting?