Philipp Meyer - American Rust

Except Poe having a good lawyer was not going to help Isaac. If anything it would be the opposite. He was still talking, telling her about his meeting with the police chief but it didn't matter, the things Poe thought mattered did not matter anymore. He would not be able to afford a lawyer, he lived in a trailer. If she got him a lawyer and Simon ever happened to look at the returned checks, that was unlikely but still, if Simon or Simon's father ever discovered she'd written a check for some ex-boyfriend's lawyer, her lover who was accused of killing someone, it would be over. As simple as that. Poe had stopped talking. He was sitting in his own world, looking out over the river. She couldn't believe how dark it was here.

“I'm not going to rat him out,” he said, misinterpreting her silence. “I hope you know that. I'd never do that to him or to you.”

“Don't worry about me.” She rubbed his shoulder.

“I think he went to Berkeley, that's what he always used to talk about.”

“Berkeley, California?”

“Yeah,” he said. “The college there.”

She shook her head — none of it made any sense. She tried to figure the probability that Poe was simply lying to her. She didn't think so but everything was different now, she probably shouldn't trust half of what he said.

“Is there anyone else who would know?”

“There was one of the old- timers at the library he used to talk to, but that's about it.”

“So what happened the other night was he figured out the one person he really needed to trust has been fucking his sister and lying to him about it.”

“Lee.”

“I guess I'm just confused about why we went out drinking when you guys had just nearly gotten arrested. If you wanted to call me, you could have just done it.”

“How could I fucking call you? I didn't even know you were in town.”

“We shouldn't have done that,” she said. “That was so stupid I can't even believe it. We're supposed to be the ones protecting him.”

He looked at her, incredulous. “You don't know anything about him.”

“He's my brother.”

“You've been gone a long time, Lee.”

“Well, now I'm back.” She stood up. “I'm going to take you home now.”

Poe didn't move. “About two months ago he went for a dive in the river. You probably didn't know that because he would never tell you and because when I called to talk to you about it, you never called me back. But basically I had to jump in after him and pull him out. It was about twenty degrees and I don't know how either of us even made it.”

She didn't say anything. She vaguely remembered getting a message from Poe, of course she hadn't called him back, she'd had no idea what it was about.

“It isn't some mystery, Lee. You just pretend everything will turn out fine until you're ready to deal with it.”

“Please stop.”

“What happened with that man is on me,” he said. “I know that. But I'm not the only reason.”

He looked at her for a long time and then he stood up.

“A couple years dicking me around and then you get married and don't tell me. Tomorrow I'm going to get locked up for your brother.”

“I don't think you really understand everything.”

“I understand you pretty well. You're not any different from anyone else.”

She was quiet. Her mind seemed to have shut down.

“Your brother was right,” he said. “About you, I mean. I don't know how I ever thought otherwise.”

He began walking toward the road. She watched him go and then she got up and ran after him.

“Do you have a lawyer?” she said, catching up.

“Harris said he knows a good public defender.”

“Stop. Please stop walking a second. Please?”

He did.

“Let's go back to the car,” she said. She took his hand and he looked at her but he didn't pull away. When they got in the car she turned it on and turned on the heater but left the lights off. She went to kiss him and he stopped her, he looked hurt, but then he kissed her back. Her mind was working on ten different levels, it was statistics, expected value: you had three people and one choice protected one of them and the other choice protected two of them, another part of her felt Poe's hand between her legs, it was obvious the choice she would make. She pushed against him harder and felt herself go blank, then something else happened and she seemed to surface and was thinking again. Poe would need a lawyer, it felt like there was a flood of words building, she would need to hold them back, you did not get the public defender in these cases, you got Johnnie Cochran. The public defender would fall asleep at your trial, the public defender was just so the state could claim you'd had a fair chance, after they'd put you away for life.

“What's wrong,” Poe said.

“Nothing.”

“Do you want to just lay here?”

“No.” She put his hand back.

— —

Afterward she laid her head in his lap, smelled herself on him, and tucked her legs up. He traced his hand along her legs to her hips and back down again. The hot air from the heater was on her face. She had a brief feeling of lightness, of weightlessness, like the instant you're above the diving board when gravity hasn't caught you. She thought: I will do anything to keep feeling like this.

Poe was asleep, the warm air blowing on them, the faint light from the dashboard, she ran her hands across his legs, her fingers through the hair between them, then she touched the car window, the cold glass, outside it was very cold. She knew her decision. It was not like Romeo and Juliet. The floating feeling was gone and there was only the sensation of falling, she had to sit up, put her head against the window for the coldness, she couldn't get a clear thought into her head. She had to call Simon. Simon was her anchor. Poe stirred and she rubbed his arm automatically, she felt sick again, she had to get out of the car, she dressed quickly, things were inside out, she took her purse and got out of the car and shut the door quietly.

Her phone had service. She looked back at the car, at Poe sleeping inside, then back at her phone, then pressed Simon's number. There was the famous line: Granted, I am an inmate at a mental institution. It was ringing and then Simon answered. She walked a good distance away from the car, under the trees, she could hear the river.

“My love,” he said, “are you on your way home?”

“Not yet.”

“Did you find your brother?”

“Sort of,” she said, “but then I lost him again.”

“Well I hope you find him soon,” he said. “I'm miserable without you.”

“I have to stay. I'm interviewing the nurses tomorrow.”

“Fine fine fine. You know I should have offered to come with you. I'm sorry I was being a baby. I should be there with you.”

She felt herself choke up, she could hear people talking in the background, she didn't know, she was on the verge of telling him everything.

“Listen,” he said, “the boys and girls are all over, up from the city, can I call you later tonight or tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“Everyone says hi. Say hi, everyone.”

She could hear all their voices chime in the background, the voices of her friends, nonsensical and distant.

“Our friend Mr. Bolton brought a case of Veuve Clicquot.”

“Simon, listen for a second. I may need some money. My brother might need a lawyer.”

“Is it serious?”

“I don't know.” A pause. “It's not really clear yet.”

“Lee,” he said. “I'm really sorry. I'm really sorry, I should have come out there with you.”

“It's alright, I'm glad you answered. I'm going a little crazy out here.”

“I'll fly in tomorrow.”

She had to swallow again. “No,” she said. “I think it'll be fine. I'm just being neurotic.”