My ex-mistress was persistent, had no quit in her. She worked out every day for exactly ninety minutes, rain or shine. Elliptical, treadmill, StairMaster, then maybe some tennis; she pushed herself with a vengeance like few women her age. She also had a temper. Once, when I had been detained at school and failed to show up for one of our afternoon sessions, she called and gave me a bloody earful. Another time I saw her fling a tennis ball at a competitor after a disputed line call. The throw had been the talk of the locker room.
My involvement with such a volatile woman was stupid on all levels, her sudden reemergence in my life more than a little worrisome. I feared I had not heard the last from her.
*
By the time I returned to the lobby, everyone, including Red Bear, was waiting impatiently.
“That was quick,” I said to the girls.
“Not like we had to post bond or anything,” Mindy said, flipping the bear at me.
“Thank you.” I caught Red Bear against my chest and examined her furry head to furry foot. “Where was she?”
“In the Dumpster,” Mindy said. “Where she belongs.”
I held her out at arm’s distance. “That’s disgusting.”
“She wasn’t in the Dumpster,” Karen said. “She was on top of it, on the lid.”
I sniffed Red Bear, relieved. “Oh, well, that’s good. You were lucky.”
“Can we go now?” Mary asked. She was holding a large cup of coffee, her big sweet smile gone, replaced by a look of mild irritation. “What kept you?”
“I’m sorry. I had to pack. My room was a mess. Sorry.”
“I’ll drive,” Karen said.
“No, I will,” Mindy said.
I turned my attention back to the girls. “I’m driving. You both sit in the back with Ethan. I think you need to spend some quality time with him. Catch up with him. It’s your penance.”
“God,” Karen said.
“God can’t help you,” I said, taking Ethan’s hand. “No one can.”
*
After I pulled over to switch places with Mindy, who threatened to throw herself out of the speeding van because Ethan kept pinching her; and after I switched places with Karen, who threatened to throw Ethan out of the speeding van because he kept pinching her; and after I started singing, Cracker Barrel, Cracker Barrel, Cracker all the way! to the tune of “Jingle Bells” in Grandpa Bear’s Morgan Freeman voice; and after Mindy offered me twenty dollars to please stop with the fucking singing; and after I took the twenty dollars and stopped fucking singing but then launched into a loud episode of Hard of Hearing, Red Bear’s new reality TV show (Red Bear, shouting: “Speak up!” Grandpa Bear, shouting: “Shut up?” Red Bear: “Speak up!” Grandpa: “Shut up?”); and after Mindy offered me another ten dollars to stop the Bear thing and I said you’ll have to do better than that; and after Karen upped it to fifty dollars and I accepted but then refused because I wouldn’t take a personal check, we stopped at a Buffalo Wild Wings because Mindy said she would rather chew her own arm off than step foot in the Cracker Barrel that was located right next door.
“I pray that Grandpa Bear has a heart attack,” Mindy said.
“That’s not funny,” I said, suddenly thinking of dear dead Chase.
Mary, who had been mostly quiet through the afternoon’s ordeal said, “I think you did a great job, John. Thank you for stepping into the breach. You put on quite a show.”
I handed Ethan his Etch A Sketch and eyed Mary with suspicion. When she wanted to, she could be as sarcastic as the little one. “Really? Seriously?”
“Yes. No one else was helping. Thank you. I don’t know how you kept that up for so long.”
I looked over at my sullen, greasy-faced daughters and felt my chest swell. “Well, thank you. I appreciate being appreciated. Thank you.”
“Ethan loved it. Didn’t you, buddy? Wasn’t Dad funny?”
Ethan drained his water, said nothing.
“I admit, I enjoyed today’s episodes,” I said. “Especially Hard of Hearing. While it’s entertaining on a certain base level, it’s also important. It deals with the challenges of hearing-impaired teddy bears, a group that doesn’t get enough attention.”
Mary cupped a hand behind her ear. “Whaaat?” she asked.
“I said—” then caught myself. Mary, my sweet-sweetie, had actually made a joke. I pointed at her, winked. “Well played.”
The girls ignored us. Over the top of her menu, I thought I saw Mary studying me. Her eyes were alive, and I wondered if she were smiling.
I cupped my hand behind my ear. “Whaaat?” I asked.
*
After we finished eating, I asked the waitress if she could recommend a place nearby for dessert. Despite the effort required to host the Bear marathon, I was in a good mood, raring to go. It was early, Ethan was still ensconced in his Etch A Sketch, Mary still had bemused/happy eyes, and the girls were still too hungover to speak, so I didn’t necessarily want the evening to end.
“Dessert.” The waitress pondered my question. She reminded me of one of my students: young, pale, purple hair, clueless. “We have dessert here,” she said.
“I’m sure you do, but is there anything more local? We’re from out of town, and we’re looking to explore.”
“Explore Mason?”
“Is that where we are? Yes.”
“I don’t know. Mason isn’t very big,” she said. “I guess there’s a Baskin-Robbins by the Exxon station. Actually, it’s part of the Exxon station.”