“We’ll just have this one and go,” Maya said. “It’s bedtime for you, soon.”
“Happy birthday, Mama,” Max said.
Stifling tears, she kissed his hair.
“Are you and Mama going to dance?” Max asked his father.
“Your papa isn’t a very good dancer,” Alex said. “And this is special music. You have to know how to dance to this music.”
“They don’t look like they know,” Max said, nodding at the tourist couple, who clutched each other and swung back and forth.
Even though he came in and out of view due to the back-and-forth of the dancers, Maya knew she was looking at Marion Hostetler on the other side of the bar. Her expectations had been wrong every step of the way — no Laurel and Tim, nothing from Max — but of this she was plainly and brutally certain. Trying to do the right thing, she struck out, but the wrong — it was hers with ease and precision.
Maya looked quickly at Alex; he hadn’t seen him.
“I don’t want this,” Maya said at her drink, nearly full. She saw Marion looking at them from across the room. She made herself look away. “Max needs to get fed. Let’s go.”
Alex looked at her, puzzled. “You want to go back to the restaurant? Let’s just get something here.”
“Please, Alex,” she said. “This noise is too much. I’m getting a migraine. Let’s go.”
“All right, all right,” he said. “I’ll flag her and pay.”
“No, I’ll pay,” Maya said. “Please wait outside.”
Alex stared, baffled.
“Alex, please, just go outside with Max. Right now, please.”
Alex shrugged — it was no time to try to make sense of his wife. He slid off his stool and held out his hand for their son. Max gulped the ginger ale, hitting bottom before mother and father could get him to stop. He burped. Then he took his father’s hand and they went outside. When the door closed behind them, Maya sprang out of her seat and crossed the bar.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“I don’t know,” Marion said.
“In front of my husband and son,” she said.
“Now it’s a problem?” Marion said.
“Marion,” she said coldly.
“I didn’t know how else to find you.”
“So don’t find me.”
He glared at her. Then he set down his drink on the warped wood of the bar. It wobbled, and they both reached for it, but it held. “I’ll go,” he said.
“Wait,” she held up one hand as she covered her eyes with the other. “I’m sorry, wait. How did you find us?”
“There’s only one hotel in town,” Marion said.
“Wilma? What did you say?”
“I said I wanted to surprise my brother for his birthday.”
“Oh, hon, you’re here now,” the waitress winked at Maya. “One more vodka neat? Gentleman paying?”
Maya shook her head. Her palms were wet; the last drink had taken her from a manageable looseness to unstable feet. She asked for water. She wanted to be clear for this. She shivered as if she were cold, though the bar was steamy with laughter and music. It seemed like a nice place to hide out when the weather finally got around to delivering. There were more couples on the dance floor now. She felt for Marion’s arm to steady herself. He was still wearing the plaid that was on her shoulders during the night.
“The girls?” she asked absentmindedly.
“We were going our separate ways anyway. They have school. They’re just being polite to their dad — their mind’s on schoolwork and boys. I turned toward home and then I drove past it. And kept driving. And driving. You shouldn’t have told me what town.”
“I shouldn’t have,” she said. “I did, though.” She turned pale: “Are you staying at the hotel?”
“No, I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “I have a room in Sheff City. It’s fifteen miles down the road.” He smiled sadly, his eyes narrowing and then opening again, but a touch slower, as if he needed rest. “It’s too cold to camp tonight. It’s going to snow tomorrow.”
”Marion,” she said, but had nothing to add.
“It was a mistake,” he said. “I’ll leave.” He swallowed down the last of his drink.
“Impressive work,” the waitress nodded at the glass, but they all knew what she was talking about.
“You must be new,” he said, and put a ten-dollar bill into the glass, the edge soaking up the final bit of the drink. “You’ll buy some discretion with the change.” The waitress’s eyes got big and Maya felt vindication.
“Don’t know why Wilma sent you to the Stockman,” Marion said.
“You’ve been here,” Maya said. “You’ve been everywhere.”
“I spent the summers near here when I was fifteen through eighteen. They’ve always been rude at the Stockman.”
“I told Wilma I wanted music,” Maya said.
He nodded at the dance floor. “Some other time.”
“Marion,” she said. Marion, Marion, Marion. “I can’t.”
“You can’t,” he said. “I’m heartless for trying.”
“No. .” she started. “You must know. .” She couldn’t get out what she wanted to say in the pitiless amount of time before Alex became confused and came back inside.
“You go first,” he said. “I’ll settle your bill. Go.”
She didn’t move. “That I can’t manage to either.”
“Go, Maya,” he said. “Go.”
She walked away like a ghost.
The meal at the Dundee stretched interminably. Max exhibited the first signs of life since leaving New Jersey. He wanted the flank steak, though he ate only the part that flapped over the plate. Maya would have said no to such a large meal, but she felt too guilty. Alex finished it in addition to his own shepherd’s pie. Maya’s hands shook and she drank water even though she had no taste for it. Incredibly, Max asked for dessert. Max never asked for dessert. Even as Maya welled with relief at seeing her son recover his appetite and a measure of energy, it meant the protraction of her misery, more time until she could bury her head in a pillow and make herself fall asleep. She pleaded for tonight to be a night when, because of misery, she fell asleep instead of stayed up. Once upon a time, she had slept soundly, like her son when he was an infant. Could he have got that from her, in some osmotic way? Or was it a coincidence, and actually he owed it to something about his genes? Maybe Alex had been more right than wrong about that. She was condemned to ask herself questions like this for the rest of her life. Perhaps she should drink not water, but more alcohol. Obliterate herself to make sure she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She would pay for it the next day, but that was the next day. She was willing to spend her birthday in pieces if it only meant this day would end.
Maya and Alex watched Max go at a sundae. He managed only a fraction. Maya was relieved, but Alex took on leftovers again, and they waited while he worked.
“She does okay, Wilma,” Alex said, looking up from the empty plate and wiping his mouth. Misery made him hungry. Maybe he wasn’t miserable. He was going home tomorrow.
The proprietress refused to take money. “That potato gratin went over like hotcakes,” she said. “Things are usually slowing down this time, but I had my busiest night of the month. I had two fellows from up near Worth who ate their meals and then ordered second sides of the gratin on top.”