It's. Nice. Outside.
Page 15
“Let’s talk about this later,” I said. “When he’s not around. This is not the time.”
Mary actually laughed. “We don’t have time. You’re forcing this decision.”
“So are you with them or me?” I asked her.
“I’m with Ethan. I want what’s best for him. This isn’t about you,” Mary said. “We’re just having a discussion here. Everyone gets their say. We should have had this discussion all along. Maybe we should go home and decide there, talk more. The girls have valid points, and they should weigh in.”
“We’re going to lose the spot! They’ll fill it. There’s a waiting list. All the good places have waiting lists years long. This is the right time.”
“The right time for what? To write your next book? Fuck another woman?” Karen said. “You think your entire life is going to get better once you dump him. You blame him for everything. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault that you never wrote another book, Dad.”
“I don’t blame him for anything.”
“You kind of do,” Mindy said. “You blame him for the affair, you blame him for not writing, you blame him for being a high-school teacher your whole life even though I know you don’t like teaching anymore, for not traveling, for drinking.”
“I like being a teacher. And I don’t drink that much.”
“Ethan has been your excuse for years,” Karen said.
This was obviously a coordinated attack, an ambush, and much worse than I could have anticipated. Mary, with her half-moon earrings, had lulled me into a false sense of security at the bar. I stood back up. “Do you know how hard my life has been? Do you?”
“Save it, Dad,” Karen said. “He’s been your excuse for everything. You’re always walking around in an Ethan daze. You weren’t even going to make my wedding. You were going to be late, probably miss it.”
“That’s kind of a moot point,” Mindy mumbled.
Karen wheeled on Mindy. “At least I date men. At least I’m capable of having normal relationships. At least I don’t have to go on TV and wet my pants in some kind of pathetic attempt to get attention. At least I live in the real world and I’m not some bitter, cynical, class clown who hates everything and everyone. So fuck you.”
“You fuck you,” Mindy said.
“Stop it! Both of you! You’re acting like little girls. And that goes for you too,” I said, pointing at Mary. “All of you. I’m the one who pays the price if he stays.”
“Pays the price!” Mary said. “He’s with me half the time.”
“He’s with me a lot more than he’s with you. You know that! You always have some excuse. Your headaches. Sally.”
“That’s true, Mom, it seems you don’t see him that much,” Mindy said. “Maybe if you took him more, we wouldn’t have this problem.”
“You punt him off on Dad,” Karen said.
“Punt him off?” Mary’s eyes flared.
“Yeah, punt him,” Karen said. “Every time I call, he’s at Dad’s.”
“I have him as much as your father does, probably more! I don’t know what he’s telling you!”
“I’m not telling them anything.”
Mindy: “You’re always bitching, Dad.”
Karen: “You’re always hiding behind Ethan.”
Mary: “You’re always complaining. And I’m sorry my sister has cancer!” Now it was she who stood. “Let’s go, Ethan.”
Ethan, who had been absorbed in the phone, looked up and bounced his eyes between Mary and me. “Where. Go?”
“To our room. We can eat dinner there. Come on.”
“No! Eat. Pickle!”
“Yes.” She tried to take his hand, but he pulled free.
“No. Eat!”
“Fine,” Mary said. She snatched her red bag and stormed off. A second later the girls pushed their chairs back.
“We’re leaving at eight tomorrow,” I managed to say.
“Why. Mad?” Ethan asked. “Why. Mad?”
The girls left with their mother; I watched all three of them march away in a military file.
“I’m not mad,” I said between clenched teeth. “I’m not mad.”
8
The next morning, since we were no longer speaking and since driving hundreds of miles together was apparently no longer a realistic or desired option, Karen and Mindy, independently and unbeknown to me, arranged to have two rental cars dropped off at the hotel. With the exception of Ethan, everyone now had their own vehicle.
We gathered silently in the lobby around eight, presumably, I hoped, for a détente breakfast, when the cars pulled up. As soon as I saw the drivers hand Mindy and Karen their keys, I realized what was happening, and I lost it.
“Your own cars? Are you kidding? This is nuts! You two are impossible!” I expanded my glare to include Mary. “All of you! Do me a favor, and don’t come.”
“Fine!” Karen said. “Just leave Ethan.”
“No, he’s coming with me!”
“Then we’re coming,” Mindy said.
“Go home! Everyone!”
“John, let’s talk.”
“I’m done talking, and I’m done with all of you.” With that, I grabbed Ethan’s hand and bolted from the hotel.
* * *
“I’m surprised Stinky Bear didn’t get his own car,” I said as we pulled onto the highway.
My plan was to drive to I-40, then eventually hook up with I-95, which would take me all the way to Maine. From now on, it was straight-shot interstate, no sponging Blue Highway moments, no side trips or authentic southern BBQ restaurants, no resort hotels. I wanted to get there as fast as I could. I wanted to get this ordeal over with.
“Just you and me again,” I said to Ethan. “Just you and me.”
“Stinky. Bear.”
“And Stinky Bear.”
“Red. Bear. Grandpa. Bear.”
“Those guys too. Forget everyone else. We don’t need them. I hope they all get flat tires. Ha! Can you imagine Mindy trying to change a tire? Karen? Ha! The little princesses. Your mother too. All of them!”
I drove with insane intent, never bothering to check on how the convoy behind me was faring. My free throws the night before had not helped, and I had slept little, fuming in my pillow, my anger, my hurt (as well as my guilt), escalating over what had transpired at dinner.
I suspected I wasn’t acting rationally, suspected I was at a breaking point, in fact, maybe had already broken, but I didn’t care. I moved up my seat close to the steering wheel, pressed the gas, and tried to lose myself in the rush of road: sixty, sixty-five, seventy miles per hour. The land was flat, uninspiring, the day gray and indifferent. I was, by nature, a slow and distracted driver, but I wanted to fly now. Ethan amused himself with an Etch A Sketch and I kept both hands on the wheel and we sped on.
Seventy-five, eighty.
The girls’ words had drawn blood. Was this how they saw me? Selfish? A drunk? A failure? Was I that big of a disappointment? Had they a right to expect more? Had they a right to judge me?
Eighty, eighty-five.
When we passed the exit for Wilmington and my phone went off, I silenced it. When I thought I heard honking behind me, I ignored it.
I had not asked for this life. Ethan had happened, and everything after that had followed. I did the best I could. Every day, every minute, every second, I did the best I could.
“Do they think I want to do this? Do they?” I said this out loud, my voice tight.
Ethan glanced up from the Etch A Sketch.
“This is a very, very tough decision, very tough. But someone has to make it. Sooner or later someone has to make it. So I made it. I made it. I’m your father, and I know what’s best. No one loves you more than me, no one!” I shook my head, pounded the steering wheel, the Doubt and Guilt overwhelming me. “I don’t want to do this, but I have to, okay? I have to! It’s the right move, the right move. It’s a good place, a good place.”
“Why. Mad?”
“I’m
not mad. I’m not mad.”
I wiped away a tear, and Ethan went back to the Etch A Sketch.
* * *
We stopped at a gas station to fuel up and go to the bathroom. As Ethan and I made our way back across the parking lot, Mindy popped out from behind my van. I jumped when I saw her.
“What’s with the driving?” she said. “It’s like a bad chase scene.”
I scanned the lot, saw Karen in her Honda, sitting low in her seat like a gangbanger, giving me the evil eye. “Where’s your mother?”
Before she could answer, I cut her off. “I don’t know why you’re all even following me. I’m taking him there. This isn’t your or Karen’s decisions. So, if you think you’re going to talk me out of this, you are very mistaken. So leave us alone. Go back to your celebrity world with big-headed Will Ferrell, and let me handle Ethan. I know what’s best for him. And this is best, this is best!”
Mindy scowled, then stormed back to her car and slammed the door. I thought she might have given me the finger, but I wasn’t sure because the sun was glaring off her window.
“Mom!” Ethan yelled. “Hello! Hello! Hello!”
Mary jumped out of her van. “Exactly what is your problem? Are you trying to get us all killed?”
I tried to stare her down, but despite my anger, I couldn’t, and just looked at the ground. “I’m in a hurry.”
“A hurry? Do you think you can outrun us? Is that what you’re trying to do? You can’t do this unless I agree, so there’s no point to that.”
“I’m going,” I said. “I’m taking him up there, and you’ll sign everything.”
“You’re acting crazy!”
“I don’t care.”
She assessed me through round sunglasses before saying, “He’s coming with me. Come on, Ethan. You drive with me. Mom.”
“He’s staying with me.”
“Not the way you’re driving. Come on, Ethan.” She extended her hand.
“No.” I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “He’s staying with me. We’re fine. He wants to stay with me, don’t you, Ethan? Don’t you want to stay with me?”
“Yes!” Ethan looked at Mary who still had her hand out. “No!” he said.
Mary moved over a few feet, positioning herself between my van and me while I tightened my hold on Ethan and tried to think things through. Having a shouting match in a parking lot with my ex-wife, the woman I was still very much in love with, the woman I was secretly hoping to woo back, was another scenario I had not envisioned in my Overall Plan.
“Could you please move?” I tried to get around her, but she blocked me, arms folded across her chest.
“What’s going on? What are you doing?” It was Karen. She and Mindy had somehow materialized and, along with Mary, formed a circle around me. I was surrounded by grim-faced women in large round sunglasses.
“Why. Mad?”
“He won’t let Ethan go,” Mary said.
“So you’re kidnapping him?” Karen asked. “So we’re doing that now?”
“I’m not kidnapping anyone.”
“So let go of him. Give him to us.”
“Sun. Out.”
Cornered, I bared my fangs. “You know, I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in all of you. Look at us!” I stopped and waited for a response but got nothing. Everyone stared back at me, jaws thrust forward. Finally I said, “You think this is easy? I want to do this?”
“Don’t do it then,” Karen said. “Mom, you can stop him.”
“She doesn’t want to stop me because she knows I’m right.”
“We need to talk about this some more, John,” Mary said.
“Why are you flip-flopping? We just talked about it last night! We’ve talked about doing this for years! We’re through talking, finished with it!”
“You’re forcing this decision,” Mary said. “We need more time.”
“I’m not forcing anything!”
“Hey, Dad, chill out,” Mindy said.
“Poo-poo!”
“Don’t tell me to chill out.”
“Poo-poo bad.”
“Let’s stop someplace and figure it out,” Mindy said. “That’s all we want to do. We shouldn’t drive any farther until we discuss everything. We didn’t get a chance to last night. And you ran out of the hotel this morning—you escaped. We just want to talk, Dad.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have welcomed her conciliatory comment, agreed to talk things through, but I was in a bad, angry place, a place without reason.
“Talk? Talk? If you wanted to talk this morning, how come you went out and got rental cars?”
Mindy shrugged. “Fallback plan.”
“We can’t even sit in a van together, much less talk. And there’s nothing to talk about anyway. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do. There’s nothing to discuss. We’re doing this. I’m doing this. I’m not making you two come. It doesn’t matter to me if you come.” I looked solely at Mary. “I don’t care if you come either. I’ll send you the forms. You’ll sign them, I know you will. You know this is the right decision.”
“I’m not signing anything.”
“Yes, you will.” With that, I grabbed Ethan’s hand and pushed past my family.
* * *
I have never been good with anger, never knew what to do with it, and I was angry now. The names of towns flew by, but I had no interest in exploring. I had no sense of where I was and made no attempt to calm down.
When you had a child like Ethan, bitterness was a constant temptation. It was always there, scratching at your door, trying to lure you to dark places. Over the years, I had done my best to resist its call, but many, many times I succumbed and allowed myself a good wallow. I was knee-deep in a serious wallow now, I knew that, but made no effort to pull myself out.
“I’m doing this for you,” I said to Ethan. “I know you don’t understand, but I am.”
I pressed the gas and switched lanes, Mindy and the others following close. When I made an abrupt move around a car, they all stayed right with me.
Ethan remained oblivious, transfixed at first by the Etch A Sketch and later by my phone, which, unlike his unusable one, had lights, buttons, sounds.
I drove faster, the van pulsating. In that moment I wanted to lose my family, leave my life behind. I wanted to escape, literally and figuratively. The girls, Mary, Ethan. It was more than anyone could bear.
Sixty-five, seventy, seventy-five, eighty. I gripped the wheel with two hands and sped on.
* * *
In the parking lot of the truck stop, Mindy staged another ambush, this time with her car. She swung so close to me that I had to jump back, spilling some of my coffee.
“Watch it!”
She lowered her window and peered over the top of her sunglasses. “This isn’t funny anymore.”
“Mindy! Hello! Hello! Hello!”
“I’m not trying to be funny. That’s your job.”
“Mom can’t keep up.”
“Where is she?”
“Where. Mom. Be?”
“She’s in front of us now. She missed the exit and pulled over onto the shoulder. She’s waiting for us.”
“Where’s the other one?”
Mindy pointed at Karen’s car at the far end of the parking lot.
“Hey, Ethan,” she said. “Do you want to come with me? We can get pickles.”
“Yes!”
“Knock it off,” I hissed.
“Pickles!”
“Don’t try to bribe him; don’t do that. Just leave. I can take Ethan and do this myself. Even though I’m such a bad father, even though I’m such a pathetic, self-absorbed, whiny drunk, I can handle it.”
“Mom has to sign the papers.”
“Trust me, she’ll sign them.”
Mindy raised her window and drove off.
* * *
About an hour later, inside a North Carolina visitors’ center, Karen accosted Ethan and me by the maps.
“Funny running into you,” I said.
“You’re an asshole, Dad.”
“Please try to watch what you say.” I wiped Ethan’s mouth with the back of my hand, then returned to the large wall map that confirmed that we were just a few miles from Virginia.
“You’re a selfish person,” she said.
“I’m selfish? I’m the one who takes care of him. I feed him, I bathe him, I wipe his ass. And I’m selfish. You know, you could come visit him more often.”
“You’re going to get us all killed!”
“No one is getting killed, okay, so cut the drama!”
A young overweight mother wearing plaid shorts and pushing a stroller stopped and stared at us. This was not surprising, since Karen and I were more or less shouting at each other.
“Is everything all right?” she asked in a soft Southern accent.
“Everything’s fine,” I said.
Karen pointed at me. “He’s taking my brother to an institution!”
I looked wildly at Karen, then back at the woman, and felt compelled to explain. “It’s not an institution. She’s wrong. It’s a home.”
“It’s an institution,” Karen said. “He’s dumping him!”
“I’m not dumping him. Stop saying that.”
“Yes, you are!”
The woman’s eyes bounced back and forth between Karen and me before settling on Karen, who apparently appeared more sane.
“Do you need help? Should I call the police?”
Karen fell silent, as if considering this option. “No,” she finally said. “But he’s taking him to an institution, and we’re trying to stop him.”
“It’s not an institution!” I yelled. “It’s a home and it’s very nice!”
Ethan jumped up and down. “It’s. Nice. Outside!”
The woman hurried off.
“Where. Mom. Be?”
“Where’s your mother?” I asked.
Karen took off her sunglasses and stepped close to me. “What do you care?”