It's. Nice. Outside. (16 page)

“Dark. Outside,” I said.

I swung my legs up on the railing and closed my eyes. Why had I decided this had to happen? I needed to think things through so I could explain them to Mary.

Over the past two months, I had been spending a lot of time with Ethan, much more than usual, as Mary immersed herself in the logistics of the wedding, and attending to Sally, who was recovering from her final round of chemotherapy. Since school was out for the summer, I had Ethan a good part of every day, a brutal stretch of survive and advance. Consequently, I was frazzled, exhausted, and constantly teetering on the edge of the Black Despair.

The day that Ocean View called about the opening had been particularly difficult. It was a Saturday morning and since C.C., our weekend respite worker and usual godsend, was on vacation, Mary had agreed to take him the entire day so I could recover. At the last second, just as I was getting Ethan into the car, Mary called to say she felt a migrane coming on and couldn't do it. A short, heated discussion followed that ended with us racing to be the first to hang up on each other.

A long lonely day ensued. We ran a series of mindless and unnecessary errands and made three separate trips to the park to shoot hoops in the hot sun. The tedium was broken up by a number of Tonto appearances and a licking festival of Woodstock proportions at the hardware store.

Ethan and I were in my small condo about to have an early dinner, when Dawn Elkin, director of admissions from Ocean View, called to inform me of an unexpected opening. Could Ethan be ready by the end of the month? I paused, then I heard myself answer yes.

I actually did call Mary right afterward, but she didn't answer, and I decided not to leave a message. I was exhausted, still angry, and in no condition to discuss the issue. I would tell her the next day. Sunday came and went, however, as did Monday and Tuesday, and before I knew it, I was packing the van.

Now I questioned why I hadn't told her.

The wedding was certainly a factor, as was the knowledge that Mary had given her tacit approval months before. There was another reason, however, a more honest reason: Ethan had to go somewhere, and I didn't want Mary interfering. I feared she would slow the process down, if not stop it entirely. And I wasn't sure I could wait any longer.

My life with my son had been anything but easy. The simplest things, taking a shower, emptying the garbage, checking the mail, could quickly turn into a terrible ordeal. I knew I was at the end of things and needed help. Ocean View was that help. Ocean View was salvation.

I was sitting on the balcony, trying to juggle my bitterness and guilt, when I heard my phone ring. It was Rita.

I was in a bad way, desperate for a friend, so I actually considered, briefly, very briefly, picking up, but the wine was ebbing, and I knew I needed to face things. So I got a cold bottle of water from the fridge, pressed it against my forehead for a moment, and called Mary.

“Listen…,” I began. “I'm sorry I did it this way, I know it was wrong. But we couldn't wait. We have to do this now.”

She was silent.

“Mary?”

“I won't let it happen. I won't sign it, the final consent.”

“I know it's hard, but you agreed to this. We both did.”

“I thought it would be five years, ten years. How did this happen so fast?”

“It just did. They said he's the right fit right now. Someone just like Ethan moved out or something, so … so I guess they're equipped for him, and … and they get special funding for him or something. I don't remember all the specifics. I have it written down somewhere. Anyway, we jumped way ahead on the list, years ahead. I didn't ask a lot of questions.”

“You should have.”

“It doesn't matter. He's in.”

“I'm not ready. He's not ready.”

“They told us it could happen at any time. They told us that. That was one of the conditions. You knew that. They said we had to be prepared to move fast. We might miss our chance and go back to the end of the line. You knew this could happen.”

“They said the likelihood of this happening was very, very small.”

“But it happened.”

She didn't say anything.

“Listen, you've been there. You know it's a good place. You loved it when we visited. And for years, we've talked about doing something like this. It just happened sooner than we thought.”

“A lot sooner! You should have told me! Damn you, John! You had no right. “I should have been part of this decision. What were you thinking? When, exactly, were you planning on telling me? When you got there? When he was already living there? When?”

“The day after the wedding. The next morning. It wasn't going to be ideal, I know, but that's when I was going to do it, tell you. I figured we would, you know, discuss it, and then you would agree and come with me. Us.”

We were both quiet. A breeze picked up, and I felt it against my face.

I tried again. “I'm sorry. But I knew you were busy with the wedding, and Sally, so I took care of everything. I went back out there two weeks ago when you had him. I met everyone again, saw his room, met with his aides and therapists. Everyone was very nice, everything looked nice, so I made the down payment. I flew in and out in one day.”

I waited for her to say something, but she didn't. So, with nothing to lose, I threw out a Hail Mary of scattered thoughts.

“We could wait for ten years, maybe longer. Do you want to wait for ten, twenty years? We always knew this day was coming. There's no place close to home. We've been over that. There's nothing available. Nothing. We're on all those other waiting lists, but that could be years, years, plus this one is the best—you know that. The best one called first. We got lucky, very lucky. So we have to do this; we have to try to do something now, while we're still relatively young and healthy. This is what we wanted, what we agreed on. You liked the place, you loved it. He's going to love it. I know he will. He'll have lots of attention, lots of structure. The pool, the gym. Now, I know the timing was or is terrible, I know I should have told you, I know I shouldn't have done this around the wedding, but I didn't know this would happen, any of this would happen. Their calling. I didn't know. Two, three weeks ago, I didn't know anything.”

I stopped to catch my breath. “It's hard now, but it's the right move—you know it's the right move.” I stopped and took a drink of water. My heart was racing. “Hello? You there? Hello?”

She finally spoke. “I've only been out there once. I need to go back and see it again. I planned to. I thought I had time. Years.”

My heart leaped. I had hoped for this. “Come with! Drive out there with us. Ethan and me. Leave with us tomorrow! Tomorrow morning! Just come with us. We'll do this together.”

She didn't say anything, so, hopeful, I pressed on. “Karen can come too. Why not? We can spend some time with her, get her away from everything. She was going to be on her honeymoon anyway, so she has the time. If nothing else, this trip will be good for that. We never see her anymore.” Then everything caught up with me, the long trip, my Overall Plan, the past nineteen years, and I said something stupid—honest, but stupid—and when I did, I erased any progress I had made.

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” I said. “It's just too hard. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can do it anymore.”

I could feel her stiffen on the other end. “So this is all about you, then. Not Ethan, not me, not the girls. You.” She hung up.

I stared at the dead phone in my hand and considered tossing it off the balcony. But I was a high-school English teacher, and I didn't do things like that. So I slipped it back into my pocket and sat there listening to the South Carolina wind for I didn't know how long. Eventually, I went inside and took my position on the free-throw line, made ten straight, then crept into bed and slept.

In the morning, I was awakened early by a loud knock on the door. It was Mary, wearing large round sunglasses, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, as always.

“The girls are downstairs,” she said. “We're going.”

I had been in a deep sleep and was confused, disoriented. “Home?”

“Maine.” She turned and began to march down the hallway. “Get dressed.”

I was suddenly wide-awake. “Really? You mean, you're coming?”

“We all are.” She was at the end of the hallway.

“Really? Karen too?” I yelled after her.

“We all are.”

“Mindy?”

“All of us!” she yelled as she turned the corner.

 

7

I stood outside the airport with Sal as he blew a final plume of smoke and flicked his cigarette. “They got a helluva lot of strip joints in South Carolina. Not that that matters,” he said.

“You know, it probably doesn't.”

“Wish we were going with you.”

“We'll be fine.”

Sal put his hands in his pockets and jingled some change. His barrel chest inflated for a moment as he took in a big breath then slowly let it recede. He had already given Ethan a number of bone-crushing good-bye hugs (as well as five hundred dollars in cash) but was reluctant to leave. “This home, this place, you want me to make some calls? Ask around? Some of those places are pretty messed up. I read about them from time to time. You sure you checked it out good? Top to bottom? Thorough search?”

“It's a good place.”

“What's the name again?”

“Ocean View.”

He winked, then gave a half wave to Ethan, who was in the back of the van. “Got a view of the ocean, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing closer to home? I mean, Maine, Jesus. I don't even know where the hell it is.”

I patted myself down, looking for my phone. “It's a good place.”

“It's all so quick.”

“It's not that quick.” I found my phone in my back pocket, checked to see if it was juiced. “We've been talking about this a long time. We were out there last fall. Remember when Ethan stayed with you that weekend?”

“What's he going to do all day?”

“He'll be very happy there. They have activities. He'll be busy. He's going to love it. Hey, you're going to miss your flight.”

“You got that cash, the money for Ethan? I want you to buy something nice for him. Or spread it around up there, give it to his teachers or whomever. Make sure they take care of him. Tell them I'll send more money. Every month. Cash. No one needs to know.”

“We'll buy something nice for him. Thank you. And you don't have to send any more money.”

“I'm going to miss the hell out of him, you know that?”

“I know that. You can visit anytime.”

“Who goes to Maine?”

“He'll be home at Thanksgiving. And three weeks at Christmas. And three weeks next summer. It's like he's going to college. Think of it that way. Karen left, Mindy left. It's his turn.”

“Everyone leaves.” Sal jingled his change again, his dark eyes switching between me and Ethan. “So, she's on board with this all of a sudden? Your wife? Ex-wife? Seemed pretty upset last night.”

I glanced at Mary, who was standing by the revolving doors, saying her good-byes to Sally. “She's fine with it,” I said, but not very convincingly.

“Well, if he stays, if you decide that, I'm going to come out there and see him later this summer. Never been to Maine.”

“That would be great.”

“Sal! Come on!” Sally yelled.

“I gotta go. Get over here.” He bear-hugged me.

“Thanks again, Sal. Thank you for the help with the wedding and everything, the calls.”

“I'll be in touch.” He squeezed me hard one last time. “Take care of the girls. And you let me know if you see him—”

“I don't think we'll be seeing any more of Roger.”

“Sal! Now! Come on. Now!”

“She's waiting. Go on.”

He blew a final kiss in Ethan's direction, grabbed the handle of his suitcase, and trudged off. As I watched him walk away, shoulders stooped, I suddenly wished he were making the trip north with us. Despite his buffoonery, he was someone I could count on when it came to Ethan.

“Hey,” I called out. “Salvatore.”

He turned.

“Have a safe flight, all right?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, all right.”

*   *   *

After we went to Enterprise and rented a brand-new red Honda Odyssey; and after I carefully transferred Stinky, Red, and Grandpa Bear, as well as other key Ethan accoutrements to the second van; and after I conferred with Mindy on the route, using my old-school Rand McNally atlas (Mindy: “What's with the map? What, you couldn't find a globe?”); and after I handed out water bottles and granola bars to everyone; and after I yanked Ethan's water bottle away from him when he started hitting Mindy on the shoulder with it, I slid into the original Odyssey and buckled up.

“Ready?” I said to Karen

She nodded/shrugged, kept her eyes in a book.

“Okay then.” I readjusted the rearview mirror, cheerfully waved to Mindy in the rental behind me, and started off.

The plan was to drive to Myrtle Beach, about four hours away, Ethan time, and a straight shot up Route 17. Originally, I thought we'd drive northwest into the heart of South Carolina, toward Columbia, but I reconsidered after consulting my map. While Route 17 was a slower drive, it would be easier for Mindy to follow. There would also be more places to stop if and when Ethan acted up.

It was late, already approaching lunchtime, when we set off on the two-lane highway. I glanced at the sky, gray as a Confederate, then flicked on the radio.

“Can you turn it off? I'm getting a headache,” Karen said.

“Sure. Sorry. Do you want some aspirin? I have some in the back somewhere.”

“I already took some.”

I turned the radio off. “What kind did you take?”