“So we’ll wait,” Mary said.
I sat, quietly digesting things, a little suspicious of their offer. Just hours ago they certainly would have lynched me if a suitable tree branch or lamppost had been handy. Now this. “May I ask, what prompted the change of heart?”
“It’s not really a change of heart. It’s a change of perspective,” Karen said.
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but since it sounded conciliatory, I slowly said, “Right. Okay.”
“If nothing else, you and Mom could use some time off,” said Mindy.
I thought some more. “Right. Okay.”
“At this point we’re just agreeing to a trial run,” Karen said. “Nothing is officially decided. We’re just agreeing to try it out. No permanent decisions.”
My mind kept processing. “Right. Okay.”
“Can you, maybe, say something else?” Mindy asked.
“Do we have a deal?” Karen asked.
I took in the serious but beautiful faces around the table: the women in my life.
“Okay,” I said. “I guess.”
“You guess?” Karen asked.
“Okay, deal.”
“No more drama?” Mindy asked.
“No more drama.”
“No more kidnap attempts?” Karen asked.
“Pretty much got that out of my system.” I smiled.
Karen extended her hand first, and we shook firmly. Then I shook Mary’s and Mindy’s hands.
“Me!” Ethan cried.
I shook his hand. “You’re all going to like this place,” I said. “You’ll see.” I faced Ethan and began talking fast, the words gushing out. “Especially you. It has a pool and hoops, and a bike path and computers. And you should see the sunrise over the ocean. Big. The home is up on a hill, and it has an amazing view. And it has good food too. We ate lunch and dinner there. Pickles. Lots and lots of pickles. All you can eat. Well, not all the pickles you can eat, but pretty much everything else.”
Neither Ethan nor anybody else was particularly interested in my sales pitch.
“It’s going to be a long trip,” Mary said.
“We’ll have fun being together. And it’s a good place.”
No one responded, so I dropped the spiel and decided to order a drink after all. I flagged down the waitress and ordered a Jim Beam.
“Make that two,” Mary said.
“Make that three,” Karen said.
“Four!” Ethan yelled.
“I’ll have some of his,” Mindy said.
9
The next morning, after Ethan and I split the the “Big Hunter” omelet while sitting directly underneath a large, glassy-eyed deer head (Ethan pointing at deer head: “Why. Mad?”); and after I brushed his teeth while singing “Joy to the World” like Alvin the Chipmunk; and after Stinky Bear surprisingly confessed that he had a sexual addiction; and after Grandpa Bear led him in a tearful prayer (“Oh, Lord, give him strength. His penis is in your hands”); and after Red Bear encouraged the use of condoms (“I never leave home without them.”), Rita called.
“John?”
I tossed Stinky to the other side of the bed, cursed my stupidity for not checking the number, and wondered if I had inadvertently channeled Rita through my sex-addiction routine. “Oh, hello,” I said.
“I’ve been trying to reach you. Where are you?”
“In Virginia. Off the highway. In a hotel. Motel.”
“Did you get my messages?”
“Yes. I did. But I’m with the whole family, so it’s hard to call back. We’re taking Ethan to a home in Maine. To live. We all are, Mary, the girls. All of us. Mary.”
Rita either didn’t hear me or didn’t think the fact that I was taking my disabled son to live halfway across the country or with my ex-wife important or interesting enough to comment. Instead she said, “I’ve been thinking of you.”
My heart sank. I had no patience for this, no patience to cover old you-are-my soul-mate, we-were-good-together, don’t-you-think-we-were-good-together ground, so I played my always reliable trump card: “I have Ethan here, so I can’t talk.”
“When are you coming back? I need to see you.”
I glanced at Ethan and prayed for some kind of divine intervention, some kind of wall-rattling outburst so I could escape. Instead, possibly for the first time in his entire life, he was utterly calm, studying pictures in a magazine, Explore Virginia. “Rita, this isn’t a good time. He’s in one of his moods.”
“I’ve been thinking about you,” she said again.
“Well.” I stabbed Ethan lightly in the leg with my big toe, hoping to activate him. He ignored me and quietly continued his Dalai Lama impersonation. “Please try to think of something else.”
“When can we talk?”
“I’m not sure there’s anything to talk about.”
“I need to see you.”
“I thought we were clear on things.”
“When can we talk?”
In the hall, a door opened and then slammed. Mary’s room was right next to mine, so a knock on my door was a firm possibility. I jumped out of bed. “Tomorrow. I’ll try to call you tomorrow. I have to go. Good-bye.”
“John, don’t run from me. Something’s happened.”