Philipp Meyer - American Rust

Isaac looked up at the dark sky, then rolled onto his side and curled up for warmth. Was that what started all this? Of course not — just another on the pile. It could have been something else, anything — this whole time you were staying to get his approval. Admit that. It was not out of charity that you were staying. You were staying to get him to realize things about you. Meanwhile you only made it worse. One day he thanks you for dinner, the next he says how you've been living off his pension. Testing you. Same as he did to Mom. Neither one of you ever pushed back. She must have known she made a mistake. Wasn't sure how to get out of it. Tried to bear up but couldn't. Finally made a choice.

She was not a saint herself. Decided her duty was done once Lee got into Yale, same as him. Time to check out. Except you don't know that, anything could have happened. No note, spur of the moment. You look off a high bridge and get a strange feeling. You don't know what happened.

— —

He woke up several times during the night, it was very cold and finally he was so cold and stiff he couldn't fall back asleep. Start walking or you'll freeze. He took another sip from the water bottle, stumbled to his feet and dusted himself off, then began to walk again, half conscious, toward the sound of the freeway, until the sun was up and he knew he didn't need to move any longer to stay warm.

An hour or it might have been three hours after reaching the interstate he found a McDonald's, where he got three egg sandwiches off the dollar menu and drank several cups of water for his headache before refilling his water bottle. People were alternately staring at him and trying to pretend he wasn't there. With tax he had two dollars and eighty cents left. The third egg sandwich he wrapped carefully in a white bag and put in his big coat pocket. He used the washroom to clean up. His clothes were getting wrinkled and filthy again, but nothing like before. He wondered if people were really watching him. Something about your face, he thought. Not just the bruises.

Walking again he stayed parallel to the highway, on the private property side of the fenceline so no cops would pull over. Need to find a train, he thought. Now I can think again. Get a train and get south so I don't freeze. Why, he thought. Where are you going? Someplace warm, I don't know.

I'm fine. Adjusting. Need to scrounge a little today. You mean like rob something? I don't know. Still feel hungry somehow. Need to ration, though. Two dollars and change left — have to eat tomorrow as well. And every day after. Save the other sandwich. I will eat half tonight, he thought.

He continued to parallel the interstate, making slow progress because of all the fences he needed to cross, all the brush, taking his time, staying out of sight. Then there was an open area ahead of him, a rest-stop with a bathroom and cars pulling in and out, he refilled his water bottle and drank for a long time from the fountain. He sat outside the main building, resting at one of the picnic tables. Soon enough a Camry pulled up directly in front of him and a man got out and jogged quickly toward the bathrooms. Isaac stood up and walked past the car, the man's wallet was sitting in front of the gearshift, the doors were plainly unlocked, it was fifty yards to the treeline.

He stood for a half minute with his back to the car, then walked away from it, continued walking, out of the reststop. That was stupid, he thought. You won't have that luxury again. No, I am not going to do that to someone. Yes you will. That or you will starve. I don't have to eat today he thought. I still have money.

— —

Even as the sun went down he could feel the temperature dropping quickly so he spent an hour collecting brush, laying piles of branches against a downed log, leaving a small space underneath, then piling old leaves and pine branches and anything else he could to add on top until the pile was several feet high. There was barely enough space to wriggle in. Tight but very warm. Blanket of leaves. Badge of honor.

He must have fallen asleep because he woke up in the pitch black with a sense that he'd been buried alive and started to knock apart the shelter before he looked out the end of it and remembered where he was. There was moonlight on the leaves and an animal moving outside, long legs, a deer. Step step step. Step. It jumped when it got his scent, cracking branches as it fled. He closed his eyes again. His mother was walking in the sunlight down the driveway, the light on her dark hair, by then streaked with gray, her head was up and she was smiling about something. Then he could no longer see her face. They were with his father in the hospital, climb on up, he said, and Isaac was boosted up onto the bed, his father's face was swollen from burns, nearly hairless, and he stroked Isaac's head. My young man, he said. How's my son? Looked nothing like your father. Not even the eyes. Hospital mix- up. Hamlet story, replaced by another man. Beginning of the end, that was then. When he got laid off it was one thing and when that happened it was another. Wore everyone down — you're the only one who stayed. Remember wishing Mom would have an affair, leave him. But of course you couldn't leave him yourself.

Your one time visiting Lee, she was so happy to see you, she could not stop kissing you. God it is so good to see you. Quit it or they'll think it's incest, you told her. She shrugged and mouthed the banjo sound from Deliverance. You're going to be here soon. The tall stone towers, the buildings like castles. Don't worry about Dad, she said.

Expected everyone to be superior but they didn't act it. It's beautiful where you come from, isn't it? I guess. Not like here, though. People thought that was funny: you mean not like New Haven? No, he's right. It is beautiful here, we all take it for granted. That was the physics major, boyfriend of the moment.

I am burying these things, he thought. I am never going to think about them again.

— —

In the morning he kicked the shelter apart and dug a hole for his scat and kicked dirt over it when he was finished. Erase your traces. Still have that last sandwich. He walked a little until he could see the interstate and the cars rushing on it and the sun was on him. Then he ate his last bit of food and drank the rest of his water.

He continued the same way along the interstate. No idea where you are. Up in Michigan. What would Poe do if he were here? No idea. Make a bow and arrow or something. Don't need it. Wonder what's happened with Otto the Swede. Can't guess. No point. Sooner or later I'll cross some tracks. Need to get some money first or something to eat. Find a reststop and wait long enough, something will turn up. Except I don't want to do that. As you prefer. Starve then. There's an overpass, take a survey.

From the overpass he could see far down the highway, how flat the land was, the cars and trucks rushing underneath, the noise deafening. The sun bright you tore your new pants. Wonder when. Thorns and all that barbed wire fencing. Lucky you don't have lockjaw. Don't lean too far over that rail now. Feel the air pushing up at you. You could float, just for a second. Kinetic energy of a Mack truck: one- half mass energy squared. Eighty thousand pounds times eighty miles per hour square it over two. Except you need feet per second. Alright a hundred fifteen, then. Five hundred twenty- nine million foot- pounds. Your weight, one hundred ten pounds. Would not slow the truck. No, technically I would. Just not enough to notice.

Get off the bridge she would have done it no matter what she wasn't a tough person. If she had married someone different, though. Then you would not exist. You existing means on one specific second they did that and it was you. You existing means she married him. You existing means she did that. Two weeks missing you all knew what she'd done none of you would admit it. Hoping she left the family started a new life, knew the alternative. Burying her he refused to leave, wouldn't move his chair from next to the hole. You and Lee had to push him. Telling people at the funeral, all his friends, anyone who would listen he told them she'd been murdered. Except people knew. They always know after someone does something — put two and two together. You blamed him and you didn't. He blamed himself, though. If there's one thing you can be sure of it's that. Meanwhile he kept testing you —will you leave me, too?