and unhappy, trying so desperately to delay his letting go that she hastens it. I remember the exact moment after that photo was taken: a sudden gust of wind lifting maroon draperies printed with exotic lime-green fronds; the smell of frying chicken in the air; my grandfather standing up to go into the kitchen “to help Grandma make the gravy”; and me pinching Caroline because I knew it was she who made him leave. I cautioned her not to tell or I would pinch her again, harder.
4
MY FATHER HAD SENT US AN ARTICLE FROM THE PIONEER Press about some things that would be at the fair this year, and Anthony was slumped in the backseat of the car, reading aloud from it. We’d been driving for three hours, and an edgy monotony had set in.
“There’ll be two hundred and fourteen port-a-johns,” Anthony read. “And they’ll use twenty-two thousand rolls of toilet paper.”
“Gross,” Hannah mumbled.
“What’s gross about toilet paper?” Anthony asked. “What would be gross is if there weren’t any.”
“Eeeeuuuuwwww!” She returned to her paperback, a story of three teenage girls who explore the Arctic by themselves.
“They’ll have elk ragout,” he said. “And walleye on a stick.”
“That walleye’s actually very good,” Pete said. “I’ve had that. I might get it again.”
“Listen to this breakfast,” Anthony said. “Smoked pork chop, scrambled eggs, fried dumplings, and a kolach. I’m getting that.”
“I’m eating only fried food,” Hannah said.
“Well, you’re in luck. Listen to this: They have fried ravioli, French fries, cheese curds, onion blossoms, and fried dough. And look at this: deep-fried pickles! Hot damn!”
I saw the color rise in Pete’s face at Anthony’s mild epithet, and he started to turn around but opted instead for paying attention to the road. But his eyes sought out Anthony’s in the rearview mirror.
“Sorry,” Anthony said quietly.
“You know, Anthony, you just don’t seem to get some things,” Pete said.
“I said, Sorry!”
“He’s smiling,” Hannah said. “He’s not sorry.”
“Hannah!” I said, at the same time that Pete said, “I can see him, Hannah.”
It was thickly quiet for a moment, and then Pete said, “I guess if you can’t remember to respect my rules, I can’t remember to give you money for concert tickets.”
“Dad, I’m sorry, okay? It just slipped out. It’s not—I don’t know why you get so bent out of shape about this! It’s just an expression everybody uses. I don’t get it, why you’re always so—” He stopped, exasperated. Stared out the window. “It’s weird,” he said, under his breath.
Pete put the blinker on and moved to the right lane to pull off into a rest stop.
“Uh-oh,” Hannah said. “You’re gonna get it.”
“Pete,” I said, “don’t be so—”
But he stopped the car, cut the engine, stared at me in a direct bid for support, and turned around to look at his children. “There are certain things in your life that will become very important to you,” he said. “You might not be able to explain to anyone else why they’re important. But you will expect the people who love you, the people who are your family, to respect those things. If any of you need to swear, do it somewhere else. It bothers me.”
“But—don’t get mad, Dad, okay?” Anthony said. “I just wish you’d tell me why you think it’s so bad.”
Pete faced forward and rubbed the back of his neck. “Just . . . don’t. Okay? I tell you again, don’t do it around me. Period.” He started the engine.
“Do you want me to drive for a while?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll drive,” Hannah said, and I was relieved to see Pete’s small smile. I too once asked Pete why it was so terribly offensive to him when people swore. It had been many years ago; we’d only been dating a few months. We were out walking in a park, and I’d asked more or less the same question, and Pete had stopped to examine a leaf on a tree. He’d been turned away from me when he’d said, “It’s just . . . it’s a need I have. It doesn’t matter why.”
“Okay,” I’d said. And I thought maybe I’d have to stop seeing him—his answer had made me really uncomfortable, and I had a habit of swearing a lot. But there’d been nothing else so tightly wound about him. Anyway, by then it was too late: I loved the planes of his face, his black hair and blue eyes, his elegant table manners, his deep voice, his love of animals and children, his otherwise easygoing manner.