“Just wait, Ethan!” I snapped.
“Pee-pee now!”
“I’ll take him,” Mindy said.
“He doesn’t have to go.” I scanned the lobby asked again. “Is Roger here?”
She shrugged.
“Listen, don’t go back to him. Whatever you do, don’t do that.”
“Who said I’m going back to him? Who said that?”
“Then what are you doing here?”
As if on cue, the man of the hour, Roger, appeared, looking like Thurston Howell III had dressed him that morning: dark blue blazer, white button-down shirt, chinos, loafers. The eternal fraternity man, a future, if not already, Master of the Universe. I stared at his jaw, as big as a pelican’s. I did not want my grandchildren to have a jaw like that. I did not want pelican grandchildren.
“Hello, John.” He said this casually, without a trace of embarrassment, as if we had just run into each other in the locker room of the club, towels wrapped around our trust-fund asses. He smiled and extended his hand, which I appropriately ignored.
He nodded and smiled at Ethan, then turned to Karen. “Can we talk?”
“We’re done talking,” Karen said.
“Just another minute.”
“Nice. Outside. Hot.”
“My family’s here now. I’m going,” she said.
“She’s done talking to you,” I said.
“Karen,” he said.
“You heard her.”
He turned to face me full on. He was about three inches shorter than me, and had a loose, athlete’s air about him, a fluidity that I, for the first time, noted. “John, in all due respect, this doesn’t really concern you.”
“Anything involving Karen concerns me.”
He gave me a dismissive smile and then reached for Karen’s arm. She tried to pull away.
“Come on, babe.”
“Let go of her!”
I took a step toward him. (Note: I am not a violent man. Far from it. But I am six-foot-three and, at least at one time, was a competitive athlete. Big Ten. Big stage. I spent the formative years of my life, the years you draw on in moments of crisis, the years that shape your response mechanisms, exchanging elbows, pushes, hacks, and charges with boys and then men much larger than me on the basketball court. I’ve thrown blind picks that have sent men flying; I’ve exchanged trash talk with gangbangers; I’ve played hurt. These experiences, combined with the fact that I loved my daughter, were dealing with a torrent of recently released guilt, were functioning with massive sleep-deprivation and had-been-in-a-van-with-Ethan-Nichols-for-close-to-a-week, a period of time that would have pushed Gandhi over the edge, probably explain what happened next.) I swung at Roger with the hand that was still clutching Stinky Bear, hitting him directly in his pelican jaw. Even though Stinky buffeted the blow, down Roger went, flat on his back, my hand stinging.
“Dad!” Karen cried.
“Get up, you big *!” Mindy yelled before stepping behind me.
I stood there, breathing hard, aware that dozens of young urologists’ eyes, the future of America’s urine, were once again on us, or more specifically, on me.
“Why. Mad?”
“Jesus!” Roger said. He got to his feet and began to back away.
“Don’t you ever touch my daughter again. Don’t you ever see her again. Do you understand me?”
“Just settle down, John.” Roger rubbed his jaw and then examined his hand.
“Don’t tell me to settle down!” I moved in on him again, but this time, rather than risk breaking my hand on the Pelican, I began swatting him in the face with Stinky Bear.
“Dad!” Karen yelled. “Stop it!”
“Wow! Wow!”
Roger turned his head, and I noticed a strip of white adhesive, a large bandage, running along the base of his neck. I took square aim at it.
“John, please. I just wanted to talk to her!” Roger yelled. He kept backing away in search of safe quarter, but I pursued, banging away with Stinky.
“John, stop it!” First Mary’s voice, then Mary. She was standing by the doors, holding Red Bear.
“Hit him, Mom!” Mindy yelled. She raised Grandpa Bear menacingly over her head. “Come on! Finish him off! Family, family!”
“USA!” Ethan shrieked, delighted.
Mary approached, her eyes ping-ponging from me to Roger, from Roger to me. “What is going on here?”
“Nothing.” I stopped with the swatting, caught my breath, and appraised my almost-son-in-law. Despite the fact that he had just been severely beaten at close range by a teddy bear, his blond hair still looked perfect, and this perfectness infuriated me even more. I stepped toward him and raised Stinky.
“John!” Mary yelled. “Put the bear down. Now!”
I lowered Stinky, backed away. “You stay away from my daughter, you understand me? And don’t call her ‘babe’ anymore. She’s not your babe.”
“John, please,” Roger said. He was holding the back of his neck.
“You stay away.”