It's. Nice. Outside. (12 page)

“More!” Ethan yelled.

Mindy pushed harder, and Ethan, delight breaking out over his face, kicked his legs up as he soared into the air.

I fished my phone out of my pocket and tried to call Karen, but there was no service. So I sat back and allowed myself to relax. The park was a vibrant field, dark green grass ringed by tall fir trees, the weather somewhere between nice and beautiful. Overhead, the sun inched up to the tip of the hills.

Mindy came over and sat next to me. “You okay?”

“You can stop asking me that.”

“You're in, like, a trance.”

“It's called relaxing.”

She leaned over and made point of sniffing me. “I think it's called Jim Beam.”

“I haven't had a drink all day. I've been driving, remember?”

We sat in silence and watched Ethan swing, his feet pointing up to the sky. A few minutes later, a young boy in an oversize T-shirt and short pants crossed the road and cautiously approached the swings. When he got close, Ethan began shouting “Poo-poo, pee-pee, poo-poo, pee-pee,” so the boy stopped, perplexed.

“How old are you?” the boy shouted to Ethan.

“He's only three!” Mindy yelled. “He's
really
big, isn't he?”

The boy glanced at Mindy, then studied Ethan one more time before turning back to town.

“I hope you and Karen patch things up,” I said.

“She's the one who doesn't talk to me anymore.”

“What caused this latest round? I can't keep track.”

“I don't know.”

“You used to be so close.”

“That was a long time ago. We were girls. Things are different now.”

“What changed?”

She shrugged and mumbled.

“What?”

“I said, ‘I don't know.' I think she's jealous or something. I think she can't deal with, you know, what's going on with me.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah.”

“No, she's not. She's proud of you. We all are.”

Mindy smirked. “Not everyone is. Trust me. It kind of started when I got into Princeton, but it's gotten really bad since I've been on the show.”

I shook my head, sighed. I had suspected this for some time. Karen was used to being the center of attention, the star of the show. Mindy's ascent had upset the natural order of things. “Some sibling rivalry is normal. But you're still sisters. And I hope you get along with her tomorrow. She needs her family.”

“She'll be okay. She's always okay. She's the amazing, unsinkable Captain McBrag.”

“Could you do me a favor? Could you please stop calling her Captain McBrag? She doesn't brag anymore, okay? You know she was devastated by that skit. That upset your mother and me too. You shouldn't have done that. Making fun of your family on TV—that's not right.”

“It was loosely based. Inspired by.”

“You called it ‘Captain McBrag.'”

“That's not her legal name or anything. No one knew who it was about.”

“The character was named Captain Karen McBrag.”

“Just drop it, okay? It was a stupid bit; we only did it once. It's over.” She pulled out her phone. “So, how long are we going to stay there anyway? I'd like to get back.”

“She was always nice to you. She always looked out for you. Always.”

“Right. She's a bitch, and you know it.”

“Don't say that.”

“Just drop it. I don't want to talk about Her Highness.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

We were quiet, then Mindy blurted, “For the record, just so you know, when that writer called her and was looking for some quotes about me, she could have said something more insightful, more supportive, more
something
, than ‘no comment.' Do you know how that looked? That's my career she's fucking with. My own sister, my only sister, saying, ‘No comment.' What the fuck was that all about? People think I'm a bitch now. On the show, all I heard was ‘no comment,' from everyone for, like, six months. It was, like, the big fucking joke!”

“Okay, calm down. Just relax.” I, of course, had read the article in question and had been mortified by Karen's ‘no comment' comment. “I'm sorry I brought this whole thing up. I'm sorry. I just want everyone to get along, that's all. Let's drop it.”

“You always want everyone to get along.”

“That's my job. I'm the dad.”

We were quiet again. Ethan yelled something indecipherable to the sky and grinned madly.

“Anyway, switching gears here—we have the rooms until Monday.”

“God. Monday.”

“It's just a few days.”

“I need to get back home,” she said.

“Home? For the record, Wilton is your home.”

“I've lived in New York for almost five years now.”

“Yes, but I'm just saying, technically speaking, Wilton will always be your home.”

“Don't worry, Dad, if New York City ever declares war on Wilton, I'll come home to fight.”

“Good. Because we're counting on you.”

Mindy kicked the ground with her celebrity-red sneakers. “So, what's the point in staying in Charleston? Do we have to help clean out the pool or something?”

“I don't know, family time. The Sals are staying. When's the last time you've seen the Sals?”

“I don't remember.” She put the hood of her sweatshirt up even though it was warm. Across the road, a spotless white truck stopped with a hiss in front of the bakery, and a man in an equally white uniform jumped out.

“How's Aunt Sally?”

“Better. In remission. Everyone's optimistic.”

“Is Uncle Sal in the mob?”

“What?”

“Uncle Sal. Is he in the mob?”

“Not this again.”

“I'm about to spend a lot of time with him, and I want to know. Besides, I have a right to know, in case I'm ever subpoenaed.”

“He's not in the mob. And that's a stereotype. You're half Italian, and you're not in the mob.”

“Dad, no one has ever known what he really does for a living. Every time I ask someone, I get a different answer.”

“He's an accountant. Among, you know, other things.”

“Other things?”

“Never mind. Drop it.”

“Daddy-o.”

I paused, thought about it, then said, “All right, okay. I guess you're a big girl now. Your uncle, he's, or at least was, a bookie. A big-time bookie. I don't think he does that anymore though. I think he's out of it.”

This appeared to impress her. She nodded at this disclosure. “A bookie. Sounds interesting. What do they do, exactly?”

“Make book. Take bets. Technically, it's illegal. I think he works, or at least worked, with some people in Las Vegas—that's all I know for sure. But he's also an accountant, a CPA. He works for legitimate restaurants and casinos. Does the books for them in Las Vegas and other places. Atlantic City, he does a lot of work there.”

“So he's a numbers guy for the mob.”

“Numbers guy? Where are you getting this from? He's not in the mob, okay? He may, you know, know some people, but trust me, he's not in the mob.”

“He's in the mob, and I'm going to out him,” Mindy said. “I going to force him to give it up, come clean once and for all. It will be good for him.”

“He's not in the mob.”

Mindy stretched out her legs and scooted down lower on the bench. “Well, whatever he does, he must do pretty well. Their house is huge. And he's always had tickets to everything. The World Series, the Super Bowl. And the summer home in Green Lake. That boat.”

“A lot of that is your aunt's money. Sal does okay, but your grandfather, Pappa Prio, he had the money.”

“Is that why you married Mom, because she was loaded?”

“I had no idea your mother came from a wealthy family when we met. And I couldn't have cared less.”

“Money doesn't hurt,” she said.

“That's one problem we never had, I guess.”

Mindy nodded toward Ethan, who was now swinging high, pumping his legs at just the right moment with just the right rhythm. “He's so good at that,” she said.

“Yeah. Now, if I can just get him to take a shower by himself.”

“I used to try to get him to do this. I tried forever. Look at him now, though.”

I turned and smiled at her, happy she was proud of Ethan. “What's with the earring?” I touched the top of her ear. “I think you missed your lobe or something.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Just an earring.”

“We should probably go,” I said. “I'd like to get to Asheville before dark. At the rate we're going, we'll never make it.”

“Do you remember when Ethan had that seizure? When he was little?”

Her question came from deep left field, and it caught me off guard. “What made you think of that?”

“Do you think that affected him? Made him worse?”

“No. That had no lasting impact on him. That's what they said.”

“He almost died, didn't he?”

“Yes. He was five. Yes. That was a bad time.”

“I found him on the basement floor.”

“I remember. I know you did.” I reached out and touched her arm.

“There's been a lot of bad times with him,” she said.

“Some good ones too. But it's never been easy.”

Mindy chewed on her lip and continued to stare hard at Ethan. “What's going to happen to him, Dad? Where's he going to end up?”

This question, soft and sincere, also shook me. “Why are you asking that?”

“I don't know, just wondering.”

“I'm not sure yet. I'm not sure.”

“What are you thinking? You must have some kind of plan, right?”

“We have some options we're looking at, yes.”

“Like what?”

“Homes, different places. Anyway, we better get going.” I stood abruptly. Ethan was swinging higher than ever, his smiling face up full to the sky.

“Up. High!” he yelled. “Up! High!”

“Let's go, dude-man. Come on, let's go.” I made my way to the swings quickly, making sure to keep my back to Mindy.

 

6

The next morning dawned steel gray and cool. I stood at the window in my room and scanned the sky, looking for the hope of sun, then glanced down and took in the streets of Asheville, North Carolina. Unfortunately, my room overlooked the parking lot, so what I saw didn't reveal much other than the roofs of cars and a huge air-conditioning unit.

I finished my coffee and gazed up at a range of hazy blue mountains, humpback shapes brooding in the distance, and thought about what I would do if things were different, if I were on my own. I was in a strange and wild part of America, western North Carolina: forested mountains, hidden lakes, long and deep rivers, a place I had never been to before, and I doubted I would ever be in again. I imagined what I could discover if I were untethered, free to roam. When embarking on his journey some forty years prior, William Least Heat-Moon had written that a man who couldn't make things go right, could at least go. I felt a sudden urge to just go that morning, outrun my life and flee.

The day before had turned out to be survive and advance. Ethan had not wanted to leave the park in Homer's Den, and it took everything we had—threats, bribes—to finally get him off the swing. But things got worse back in the van, and we were forced to make an endless number of stops: at another park, a rest station, a Cracker Barrel, and a Walmart, before arriving in Asheville an exhausted and jangled pile of nerves.

Despite all that, Mindy had gotten up early, taken Ethan to breakfast at the Renaissance Hotel where we were staying (a Marriott property: thirty-five thousand points), and was now with him at the pool. This reprieve allowed me some much-needed alone time to think, strategize, and, of course, worry.

I put the time to good use. We would be in Charleston later that day, and a lot was waiting for me there—
a lot.
So I paced the room, checked my voice mail, listened to message after message from friends and relatives expressing surprise and shock over the wedding, deleted all of those messages, turned the TV on, turned it off, then, even though I had given up any hope of ever reaching her, called Karen.

She answered on the first ring.

“Hello?”

I stopped pacing. “Karen? Oh, hi, baby. It's me, Dad.”

“Oh. Hi.”

“How are you?”

I never heard her response. Instead I thought I heard Mindy screaming in the hall.

“Come in here now! Now! Move! Move! Move it, mister!”

It was definitely Mindy's voice, and she was definitely screaming.

“I'll call you back.” I raced over and opened the door. There, as I feared, was Mindy trying to drag Ethan into the room. He was on his back, crying, his pale skinny body still wet from the pool.

“He didn't want to leave,” she said. “I tried everything.”

“You should have called! Come on, Ethan.” I took his other arm.

“No!”

“Come on!”

“No!” He swatted at both of us. Mindy jumped away. “He pinched me in the elevator so hard, I thought I was going to bleed.”

“I got him. Just let go! Take the key, open the door. Here, go on. Open it!” I knelt down. “Come on, Ethan. Stinky Bear is in the room. He wants to talk to you.”

“You are so bad, Ethan!” Mindy yelled.

“Mindy, watch your voice, please!” It was then that I noticed she was soaking wet. “Did you fall in?”

“He pulled me in!” She opened the door wide. “Get up, Ethan!”

“No! Shut. Up. Idiot!”

“Come on, Ethan,” I pleaded. “We'll call Mom if you get inside. We'll have a Sprite. We'll look at your photo album. All the pictures. We haven't looked at that yet.”

“Don't bribe him. You bribe him too much! That's the problem!”