Philipp Meyer - American Rust

“I was defending you to your brother but now I think I shouldn't have.”

Still he didn't know why he was pushing but it seemed like she'd been prepared for it, for him to act like this, she'd always been fine with having different sorts of feelings.

“I hope you didn't tell him about us,” she said.

“No, but I'm sure he knows now. After tonight.”

She was shaking her head some more. She was not happy about it.

“It's kind of his own fault.”

She took her hand back.

“I found out from your brother,” he said. “You could have called and told me and it would have been okay. You could have told me yourself but instead I find out from him and I'm guessing you would have split town again without calling me if we hadn't needed a ride tonight.”

“Because I'm married.”

“Well I'm glad you're happy.”

“If it makes you feel better there are days when he and I don't even talk. I can't even remember the last time we had sex.”

He wondered if she was making that up but he didn't care. He needed to hear it. Of course it made him feel better, and it seemed to make her feel better also, and after a minute they were holding each other again. He heard her swallow and he could feel her heart going and he thought go on and do it. She let him kiss her. She let herself be pulled into him and he smelled her warm breath and they held their heads together and he took in her smell, some girls smelled like their perfumes or the soaps they used but her it was just her skin. He would know it anywhere. In the mornings when she'd been sleeping all night he would just smell her, smell her chest, smell where the hair began at the top of her neck. They were like that for a long time, breathing in each other's hair, and then he started rubbing her back and her leg.

“You're not being fair,” she said.

“I love you,” he told her.

She sighed and burrowed into him.

“You don't have to say it. I don't care.”

“I love you, too,” she said.

Soon she was touching the bare skin on his stomach. He put his hand up her skirt and she pushed against it and he undid his pants and slid them down and reached for her. She let him. She rolled on top of him and he pulled her underwear over and got partway inside, it was as quick as that. She raised herself up to get it in smoothly. They were still for a minute. She grabbed his shirt and squeezed it hard and then quickly rolled to one side and took her underwear off.

They started again and after a minute or two there was a look on her face like she was concerned with something and he pulled her mouth to his neck so she wouldn't make noise. Eventually the tension went out of her and they were going slower.

“Do you want to be on top,” she said.

“I think I'm done.”

“Me too,” she said.

After lying like that for a while they took all their clothes off, just to be touching, and she lay with her back to him, his arms around her. She had a raised mole on her back, on the one shoulderblade, and he leaned and kissed it. He knew the other one wouldn't, is why. He knew she meant something different to the other one, she did not mean as much to the other one. It didn't matter. She was not the same for him but that didn't matter, he was going to write it down, a life lesson. Shut the fuck up, he told himself.

Then he thought she was just doing this as a favor. It was just her doing a favor for you, old times’ sake, next time she will be gone to you. He felt cold. He was considering all the possibilities but then he decided no, it wasn't from pity, it was from several different things, he was fine with it. But it was time to get going, in an hour he might be nervous or angry, he didn't want her to see that. He slipped out from behind her and began to look for where his clothes had fallen, then stood up and began dressing.

The coldness woke her and she opened her eyes.

“Where are you going?” she said.

“I dunno,” he said. “I guess home.”

“I'll drive you.” She stood up, naked. She was so small. “Jesus, I'm shitfaced,” she said. “No wonder I wanted to seduce you.” She smiled at him.

He was slightly hurt by the implication but he smiled anyway and his head began to feel straight again, this was as good as it would get, two old friends, occasional benefits, any more and she'd take him under and then leave him there. He was glad it had happened, a good reminder of how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to mean something, it was more than just body parts. Life was long and he would feel this way again only not with her. He couldn't figure out why he was feeling so natural about it, he hoped the feeling would last, he knew this was how he should close it. The end of one book of his life. He did not want to think about it.

“I'm glad I got to see you again,” he said. He cleared his throat and made himself lean forward to kiss her forehead. She tried to pull him back to the couch.

“You might as well stay a while longer,” she said. “We might as well do it all night.”

“I should get home.”

“I meant what I said.”

“I know,” he said. “I know you did.”

As he was leaving, he turned to wave and saw something move in Isaac's window. He kept walking. Soon he was in the dark under the trees.

She was lying on the couch, looking around at the home she'd grown up in but had put from her mind five years now, water- stained ceilings, patches of wallpaper curled from dry plaster, Isaac's books flung everywhere. Since she'd left, the books had filled the house. Old science textbooks he'd picked up at thrift stores, copies of National Geographic, Nature, Popular Science, piles of them on every shelf, on her mother's upright piano, the stacks of books and magazines spread across the living room in unruly masses. It was a large room but still there seemed barely enough space for her father's wheelchair to pass. Obviously, Henry had decided to tolerate it. But maybe he no longer cared. A person looking in the window would have thought the house belonged to some crazy old lady and about twenty cats.

On one hand she loved her brother for it, his curiosity, he was always teaching himself things, but she was beginning to worry about him. He was getting more isolated and eccentric. Right, she thought. You're the one who stuck him here. It didn't seem like she'd had a choice about it. She'd always thought she had escaped just in time, outrun the sense she'd had her entire childhood that with the exception of her even-stranger younger brother, she was fundamentally alone. It was not a good way to think. It had changed completely when she got to Yale, not right away, but quickly enough, her sense of aloneness, of what she would now describe as an existential isolation, had disappeared. Her entire childhood in the Valley now seemed like a past so distant it might have been another person's life. She'd found a place she belonged. It seemed impossible she'd have to give that up and come back here.

There was a creaking from upstairs — her brother was still awake. She felt guilty. I'm working on it, she told herself. Simon's family had agreed to pay for a nurse, she'd made some phone calls, tomorrow she would start the interviews. It could not have gone any faster. Same as what they taught you as a lifeguard — you have to save yourself before you can save anyone else. That's what she was doing. She had gotten herself to solid ground and now she was coming back for her family. You sure took your time about it, she thought, but that probably wasn't true, she was just being hard on herself. She hadn't been a particularly good lifeguard, either — her body wasn't big or buoyant enough and technique only went so far. A heavy enough person would drag her under every time.