“Yes. Ma’am.”
Since he still seemed interested, I moved on to a photo of a bedroom. It was nondescript, with a twin bed, dresser, classroom-style desk, and a small TV. A vase of flowers was perched on the dresser, a burst of yellow-and-purple colors that made the rest of the room seem stark by comparison.
“This isn’t a very good picture. The rooms are nicer,” I said. “They’re very comfortable and sunny, and you have two windows that overlook the back where there’re hoops and places to play catch every day and run and take walks. And they have cable, of course, so you can watch SportsCenter and some Illini basketball games.”
“Go. Illini!”
“Right. And there’s a computer room where we can Skype you every day. Every day we can talk and see you on a computer. I’m going to call you every day, see you every day. Every day that you’re gone. Every day.”
I quickly shut the computer, cleared my throat, and stared straight ahead at the blank TV. We would be there soon. In a few days we would be there. I let this sink in. Then I reached over and grabbed Ethan and hugged him as hard as I could.
“Why. Mad?” he asked. “Why. Mad?”
*
The next morning we found Mary sitting alone in the lobby, her head hunched over her phone.
I pulled out a chair for Ethan. “Good morning.”
“She didn’t come home last night.”
“Who? Karen?”
“She didn’t come home. I was up all night. Finally I went looking for her.”
“You drove around last night?”
“Yes. It’s not a very big town. I thought I’d see the van, but I didn’t.”
“Eat. Starving. Eat. Now!”
“Wait a minute. Just wait.” I walked over to the windows, scanned the mostly empty parking lot. “Is the van here now? Is she back?”
“I said she didn’t come back.”
“Where is she? Do you think she’s all right? Did you call her?”
“Eat!”
“Please, Ethan, wait! Did you call her?”
“I left her a message. Get him something. I’ll sit with him.”
“Juice!”
“Get him some juice,” she said.
I walked in a fog over to the small buffet in the center of the lobby and grabbed a banana, yogurt, and juice, my mind on Karen. Why would she do this? Why would she rush off to see him? Why didn’t she come back? Why wouldn’t she call? When I returned to the table, Mindy was sitting there, nursing a small Styrofoam cup of coffee. Despite the weather, she was wearing her black Princeton sweat shirt, the hood up. Her eyes were puffy, her face pale.
“This coffee sucks,” she mumbled.
I placed Ethan’s food in front of him.
“Tell him,” Mary said.
I remained standing. “Tell me what?”
Mindy took a deep gulp of her coffee, grimaced. “What time is it?”
“Eight thirty. Tell me what?”
Mindy took another swig of coffee. “Karen is meeting us in Washington, DC. She’s already there.”
“She’s in Washington?”
“She just texted me. She said she’s at the Marriott by the airport. Can you sit down?”
“She contacted you?” I asked.
“Yes. She knew I wouldn’t ask any follow-up questions, and she was right—I didn’t.”
“Well, I am.” I took my phone out.
“You really think she’s going to answer?” Mindy asked.
I put the phone down on the table, and Ethan immediately snatched it up. “Is she with Rodger?”
“Probably, I don’t know.” Mindy swirled her coffee. “So, when are we leaving?”
“Soon,” I said.
“I have to shower,” Mindy said.
“Then go. Hurry.”
“Okay, okay.” Mindy slowly got up from the table and disappeared down the hall.
“Where? Mindy? Be?”
“She’ll be back, honey. She’s taking a shower.”
Ethan returned to his yogurt and my phone, pressing numbers with sticky fingers.
“You don’t think they’re getting back together again, do you? After what he did to her?” I asked.
Mary took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She looked exhausted. “I can’t believe she would.”
“This just pisses me off. It’s very selfish of her to leave us like this, make us worry like this. Like we don’t have enough on our minds? We should be focused on Ethan right now. This is a very hard and very important thing we’re trying to do, and she’s doing crazy things like this, distracting us.”
Mary gave me a sad mother’s smile. “Distracting us?”
“Yes. You’re out there all night looking for her. I was up half the night worrying about her. Maybe I can understand their wanting to talk, but to disappear and not call? To take off like this?”
“She’s going through a lot right now. We have to give her some space.”
I paused. “Okay, yes, all right. But she could have told us. A quick call, at least. A text.”
Mary hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “You have to remember that it’s not just about Ethan,” she said. “It’s about all of us, John, all of us.” She stood and headed toward the door. “I’m going to wait in the van.”
“Did you even eat anything?”
“I’m not hungry.”