“I’m not going to just leave him, but, yes, he’s going to stay there, yes. We all agreed we were going to give this a try. It’s a good place.”
“No, you’re not,” Karen said. “When it comes down to it, no, you’re not.”
“He’s your whole life.” Mindy said this softly, like she was dreaming.
“This whole trip is a joke,” Karen whispered.
“When it comes down to it, no way are you leaving him there, no way, not for six weeks. Not for one day.” Mindy said. “We’re just waiting for you to realize it and go home.”
“This whole trip is a joke,” Karen whispered again. “A big, fat, joke.”
11
The next morning began much too early with a knocking, followed by the sound of Ethan’s excited voice: “Hello! Hello! Hello!”
I sat up in a fog. I had had my Ethan-is-talking-normal dream again, but couldn’t remember specifics, just that we were together and that he was speaking, clearly, in complete sentences. I did not like those dreams, didn’t like them at all; after I woke, a feeling of loss would cling to me.
“Hello! Hello! Hello!”
“Okay. Hold on!” I suddenly had a strong desire to see him, give him a squeeze. I got to my feet and wobbled, stiff-legged over to open the door. And there he was, standing next to Mary, bright-eyed bushy-tailed, Mindy’s Bud Light cap on backward. He may as well have been wearing a T-shirt that read, CARP DIEM! I leaned down and kissed him on his forehead, then gave him a solid hug.
“My man,” I whispered.
I smiled at Mary. She looked summery that morning: sunglasses, a soft yellow sleeveless dress, sandals. I wondered how far we were from the ocean.
“Where. Girls. Be?” she asked.
I released Ethan, put a finger to my lips, and motioned with my head. “Enter.”
Ethan walked past me, followed by Mary. When she saw Karen and Mindy lying side by side, facing each other, breathing heavily out of their mouths, she took off her sunglasses and said, “I don’t even want to know.”
“Stinky!” Ethan cried.
“You don’t.”
“Girls!” Ethan said, pointing and smiling. “Girls. Sleeping.”
“Girls,” I said. “Right. Very hungover girls. Girls who were out very late last night.”
Mary’s face wrinkled up. “What is that smell?”
“Girls who threw up last night. Girls who drank too much tequila.”
“Stinky!”
“Oh God.” Mary cupped hand over her nose. “How did you stay in this room?”
“I think they need to sleep awhile,” I said.
“How long?”
“Labor Day.”
Mary shook her head, reached for Ethan. “Let’s go, buddy. You want to go swimming?”
Ethan jumped up and down. “Swimming!”
“All right,” I said, even though swimming was absolutely the last thing I wanted to do at that hour. “Let me get my suit. I’ll meet you down there.”
“You stay here. I’ll take him.”
“Dad. Come! Swimming!”
“Come on, Ethan,” Mary said. “I’ll take you. Let’s give your old daddy-o a break. I think he had a rough night.”
I gave Mary an appreciative look. “Thank you. I’ll take him after that. Maybe play hoops somewhere. Find a park.”
“Hoops! Now!”
“No. Swimming now. And hold on to the sides,” I said.
“Let’s go, buddy,” Mary said. She gave Mindy and Karen one last look. “Our sweet girls,” she said.
“Yes, sir, we did something right.”
*
Of all the cities and towns we had been through, Wilmington, Delaware, was probably the place I had the least desire to explore because, in all honesty, I had never heard of it. In its defense, it did seem like a nice, solid mini-city, just orderly and clean enough to make it unremarkable. For all I knew, it might have had a deep and rich history. George Washington might have slept there, possibly Lincoln too. It might have had a vibrant arts community, or a thriving underground music scene, but I never made an effort to find out. All I really learned about Wilmington, Delaware, was that it had a pretty good outdoor basketball court.
After his swim with Mary, Ethan and I found a quiet, shady park at the end of a dead-end street. It had a small court with real cloth nets, not the chain nets many parks had, and this was a plus. Sometimes the rattling sound of the chains upset Ethan; the cloth nets were soft and silent.