Page 73 of This I Know
“Dad, what the hell?” Mara says.
From the bathroom, I hear the toilet flush and the faucet turn on. Avery will be back any minute, and the last thing I need is for her to catch wind of any of this. We somehow made it through most of the dinner without Mr. Kramer dishing out such obvious insults, so I don’t want to push my luck.
Besides, I was just told to get the hell out. I guess I should do just that.
So without another word, I stand. I move to pick up my dishes, offering to bring them to the sink.
“That’s alright,” says Bill, stopping me coldly.
Fine. Then even my dirty dishes can stay where they are. When I start to walk away, I catch a glimpse of Mrs. Kramer staring across the table at her husband, her jaw open and her hands still pressed to either side of her plate. Mara is looking at her dad with just as much shock, but when she catches my eyes she immediately gets up and comes toward me.
I don’t stop for her. I’m walking quickly, as fast as I can toward the door, which luckily happens to pass right by the bathroom. And just as luckily, Avery is exiting the moment I reach it.
“I’m so sorry,” Mara says after me.
Avery looks back and forth from Mara to me.
I hold my hand out to her. She takes it and lets me guide her to the door.
“Mara, what’s going on?” she says over her shoulder. “What happened?”
“Beats me,” Mara replies. “My dad flipped a shit, as usual.”
We stop briefly for Avery to collect her things at the door.
“I’m so sorry,” Mara says again.
We’re moving too quickly for her to say more. I won’t allow it. Not with Avery here now, with her so close to discovering everything. Which means I’m so close to possibly losing her, which means we can’t move fast enough.
“I’ll see you at school,” Mara yells.
But we’re already halfway down the drive and almost to the car.
“Here,” I hold out my hand for the keys. “Do you want me to drive?”
“Sure.” She digs through her purse nervously until I hear the jingle of her keys, signifying that she’s found them. She hands them over.
Inside the car, my adrenaline is still pumping. All I want is to get us both as far away from those people as I possibly can. That’s my instinct.
“Ethan,” she says gently as I throw her car into gear and pull away, “what happened in there?”
She’s asking submissively. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think there was a hint of fear in her voice.
A fear of me, probably.
My own voice is so tight, so amped up with the tension of frustration and anger that I’m afraid to say a word. I don’t know which article Mara’s parents have seen, or who they had heard something about me from. I guess I never will.
“Mara’s dad wanted us to leave,” I say. “So we did.”
“He wantedusto leave?”
I keep my eyes dead ahead on the road.
“Why?” she asks.
“He didn’t say exactly.”
“Okay.” A moment of silence passes. “Well,” she says, sighing, “I guess that was some first date, huh? Mara always complains about her parents being dramatic and strange, but I’d never witnessed it until now.”
