“She's a woman.”
He nodded.
“I like that,” she said.
“Thought you might.”
They looked at each other for a long time.
“I'm sorry I brought that up.”
“You're his mother. We can talk about it all you want.”
“Do you want to open that third bottle?”
“I shouldn't,” he said. But he did.
— — —
They sat on the edge of the bed and they were kissing again, touching each other everywhere and his body felt very light and he felt the heaviness between his legs. There was no trouble. Not that it was a surprise. A slight surprise. Once in a while with the pills he wasn't sure. He would throw the pills away, he thought, and grinned.
“Happy?” she said.
He nodded.
“Me too.”
She knelt down in front of him, he stroked her hair and thought look at you old man, your life is not so bad. Then he rolled on top of her, sped up quickly, they still knew each other's timing. The sounds she made— same noises you hear in your own head and you could keep to yourself but she shares them, lets you know how good you're making her feel.
An hour later they lay on top of the covers and she ran her fingernails up and down his back. She got up to refill their wine glasses and they sat next to each other against the headboard, he looked down at himself, getting thinner and his hair gone gray but still he had muscle on his chest and stomach, a few years back he'd developed a beer gut but quickly gotten rid of it. Why, he hadn't been sure. Now he knew.
“Have you been with other people?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said, shrugging. But the truth was he hadn't.
— — —
In the night he woke up and she was watching him. She ran her hands along the soft hair at the sides of his head.
“Shhhhhhh,” she said.
He opened his eyes all the way.
“I like looking at you.”
“I like looking at you, too.”
She pulled the covers down. She had beautiful shoulders, the lines of the bones around her neck, the softness of her just right. She was a beautiful woman, he could barely bring himself to touch her. He felt full and happy, it seemed amazing his skin could hold it all, it seemed he had never felt this way in his life. No, he thought, it's only that this is something you can't store away, you can only feel in the minute.
He didn't know how much longer he looked at her like that, touching her lightly with his fingertips. He could feel her skin getting warmer. She parted her legs. He put his finger there and she opened them farther and looked at him.
“I thought it might have been the wine before.”
She shook her head. Then she smiled and said, “So you're saying you got me drunk on purpose?”
“Basically.”
“Next time I'll be a cheaper date.”
They rolled on their sides and she wrapped one leg around him, moving very slowly with their eyes focused. It was right what they said about sex, it did just keep getting better, all of this, his supposedly worn- out body. He'd nearly turned it down. He felt light, no awareness of lying on the bed, they could have been anywhere, the feeling he usually had of things passing quickly, of fading, why had he ever felt that? I can feel this, touching her, and then his thoughts turned into something else and didn't make any sense at all.
9. Isaac
In the dream he was with his mother and sister in the backyard, looking out at the distant hills behind the house. They were all waiting for Isaac's father—he was coming home for Easter, driving from Indiana. Something felt wrong about the dream; he and his sister were too old— high school age. By then his father had already had the accident. His mother and sister were sitting on the porch rocker, kicking their feet, laughing about something, and Isaac was in the garden, digging a hole. Isaac keep away from the roses, said his mother. But his sister stuck up for him. Then they were in the kitchen, his mother was putting dinner back into the refrigerator because his father was still not home yet, he was hungry and everyone was feeling let down, but Lee kept goosing his neck. Then she was joking around with his clothes, untucking his shirt. Very funny, he said.
Something was wrong. Wake up. Where am I? In the clearing. Morning now. What is he doing? The Baron was squatting over him. He was removing his hand from the pocket of Isaac's cargo pants, very gentle, he had the envelope with Isaac's money.
Isaac had the knife in one hand, he had slept like that all night, he could feel himself tensing his grip, getting ready to use the knife. No, he thought, there is no way He let go of the knife and grabbed at the Baron's coat with both hands and tried to roll on top of him. But the Baron easily shook loose and then he was up and running.
Isaac seemed to float up and onto his feet and then he was moving as well. He could not believe how fast the Baron was covering the ground, the white envelope flashing in his hand, Isaac was running as fast as he could, the trees were a blur. The knife was in his left hand and he switched it to his right. You need to catch him, he thought. The woods ended and they passed the trailer park, they were in the open now, a parking lot, they reached a four- lane road with traffic going both directions.
The Baron turned onto the sidewalk and kept running, past a line of stopped traffic, startled faces. After a block Isaac began to gain on him. What if I catch him? Use the knife. He's stronger than you and you'll have to use it. I can't do that, he thought. Then catch him anyway. He'll be tired and you might have a chance. He was only a few steps behind the Baron now. They were right out in the open, he had a feeling everyone was watching them, they had passed several dozen cars now. There were spots in his vision and his lungs were burning but it didn't matter. He'd never run this fast in his life. He could run forever. There was a tall chain-link fence to the left and the sidewalk they were running on and then the road to the right. When you tackle him drop the knife. You'll cut yourself. A white car passed in the other direction and out of the corner of his eye Isaac saw blue lights flashing as the car pulled a U-turn, he was nearly close enough to touch the Baron and then there was a siren and the blue lights again. No, he thought, he could see the envelope pumping up and down in the Baron's hand, you can almost touch him, then the cop car jerked across three lanes of traffic and jumped up the curb thirty feet in front of them, the cop was out quickly, he was behind the door, Isaac couldn't see his hand but he knew: drawing his gun.
Stop stop stop he heard, it's the knife, he thought, get rid of the knife, there was the tall fence to his left and before he could think he'd leapt up and rolled over it, pivoting on his chest over the top, ripping his coat open and landing on his hands and knees. Stay down stay down the cop was screaming, the knife had flown off somewhere into the dirt. Everything was in slow motion now, he wanted to stand up but the cop had his gun trained on him, does he see you dropped the knife? Get up. Get up get up get up. He might shoot me. No get up. Focus on your legs. He was running again. Do not shoot if he shoots you will feel it before you hear it, it won't feel like anything, he glanced back again, he had a quick impression of the cop, an older black man, talking into the radio on his collar, the Baron must have stopped running because now the cop was pointing the gun in a different direction, away from Isaac.
Entire areas of his vision were blurred out but he forced himself to keep running, across a parking lot between two small office buildings, he plunged through a row of bushes, going back in the direction he'd come.
10. Poe
The next morning, he waited in his cell for several hours to get an escort out to the yard. His cellmate had still not come back. A guard came by to tell him that his lawyer would be visiting tomorrow, but Poe did not want to think about the lawyer. Finally Clovis banged on the bars. “Dwayne busy?” Poe said.
Clovis didn't answer, so Poe followed behind him, down to the end of the tier, down the stairs, through the cellblock, there was dust floating in the light from the windows, close
your eyes and you'd think it was any locker room, stinking like socks and toilet stalls and moldy cement, people talking too loud, everyone saying stupid shit. He followed Clovis into the main corridor and then out through the metal detectors into the yard, open air, sand and sunshine, blue sky. Practically like the beach in summertime. Pretend the towers are lifeguards.
Clovis still hadn't said a word and everyone took notice when Poe arrived at the weight pile, either smiling in a way he didn't like or turning so they didn't have to talk to him. He got nervous immediately but he found a place against the fence and acted like he didn't notice. Black Larry came over.
“Young Poe,” he said, “we've been having some discussions about your future.”
Poe nodded.
“I'll give you the straight dope. The consensus is we need to have a little papers party. Take a look at your charge sheets. Satisfy our own curiosity if you're amenable.”
“Whatever y'all want. I don't give a fuck.” Poe shrugged.
“I wouldn't be so fuckin smug if I were you,” said Clovis. “Half the people in here are after you.”
“Well, I know for a fact there's one of them who ain't after me, at least until he gets out of the fuckin infirmary.”
“Little Man ain't shit and I guaran- fuckin- tee you the minute you're out of our circle they'll find your fuckin corpse in a laundry tub. You're part of the minority in here, if you ain't noticed, and every single one of them niggers been lacin up since the minute they fuckin saw you.”
“Clovis,” said Dwayne.
“Young Poe understands,” Black Larry said to Dwayne. He looked at Poe. “Sunshine, Young Poe. The best disinfectant.”
“Alright,” said Poe.
“Go with him, Dwayne.”
“Yo Dwayne,” Clovis said.
Dwayne turned back to look.
“Bring em all back so the rest of us can get a look.”
“No fuckin shit,” Dwayne said.
They passed through the metal detectors. The detector went off but Dwayne nodded to the guard and kept walking.
“You worried, bud?” said Dwayne. “ ’Cause if you are, you might as well catch it from me as opposed to them.”
“I'm cool,” said Poe. “I ain't causin no problems.”
“That's good to hear, bud. There was a racketeering case against Black Larry, so he's got good reason to be suspicious. They charged me, too.”
“What about Clovis?”
Dwayne was silent and they continued down the cellblock. When they were out of earshot of anyone, he said: “At the moment, Clovis has his own reasons.”
After retrieving the folder, Poe and Dwayne went back to the yard. Black Larry took the folder and looked through it carefully, then passed it around.
“Francis.”
“Yeah,” said Poe.
“What's that?” Clovis said.
“William Francis Poe,” said Black Larry. “That's his name.”
“This is still bullshit,” said Clovis. “A charge is just a fuckin charge.”
“Murder One,” said Dwayne.
“Is there anyone to roll over on, Young Poe?”
“No,” Poe said quickly. “It's on me.”
“Well that still don't mean shit.”
“It'll do for now,” said Black Larry. He reached behind him and pulled out a jug of pruno and they all drank from it. The mood lightened, they drank the rest of the pruno, Poe sat against the bench and everyone relaxed. The rest of the day went like normal, there were the usual comings and goings only Poe got drunk, he sat quietly with the sun in his face, he was feeling good, there was a strong breeze, he was feeling easy about things and then he was thinking of Lee, it was the last time he'd been drunk. He thought about calling her. It was too embarrassing. He'd called his mother and she wasn't home, they would have to work out a schedule, the phones only worked collect. His lawyer would be coming, sometime tomorrow, the lawyer would only want one thing from him.
He was thinking about that, there was a hawk high up over the yard, hovering, it was hovering in the breeze like someone had it on a string, he watched it there for a long time.
“Wake up,” said Dwayne.
The only others left at the weight pile were Black Larry, Dwayne, and Clovis. Everyone else was gone.
“I'm awake.”
“Need you to pay attention to something,” said Black Larry.
Poe got up from the bench and Black Larry sat down, ran his fingers through his blond pompadour, picked up a dumbbell and began curling it, he might have been a surfer lifting weights on the beach in California, the one they always showed on television. A good- looking guy, Black Larry, he had an easy way about him, a juror had once fallen in love with him. Dwayne and Clovis looked relaxed, they could have been talking about football, but with the faintest nod of his chin, Dwayne indicated a guard on the other side of the yard, pacing near the fence.
“See that toad? The skinny little fucker that's been avoiding looking over here?”
“Him?”
“Don't fuckin point,” said Clovis. He slapped Poe's hand down. “Jesus fuckin Christ this guy.”
“Clovis,” said Black Larry. “Why don't we just stay on message?” He looked up from his bench and dropped the dumbbell into the sand.
Clovis said: “That guy over there is gonna be lookin for Black Larry tomorrow morning, the hallway between the showers and the laundry room. It's a quiet place where people can have a talk. In case you can't see him from here, he's a skinny fucker with a goatee, looks like a fuckin tweaker because he is one.”
Poe knew what they were about to ask and he got cold all over, the hair on his neck and arms stood up. He hoped it didn't show.
“His name is Fisher,” said Dwayne quietly. “He's got kind of a rat face. But his name will be on the shirt.”
“Fisher,” said Poe distantly.
“There won't be anyone else there. You just do what you do, that's all.”
“Why?”
“The fuckin questions,” said Clovis.
Black Larry raised a hand as if in surrender. “Reasonable enough, Young Poe. The answer is that Mr. Fisher over there owes us, there being some items we paid him to procure that he claims were confiscated. Mr. Fisher being a fresh hand at this game, he believes that his position allows him to rip us off.”
“I'm still waitin for my trial,” said Poe. “I don't want to be hitting a fuckin guard.”
“Mr. Fisher isn't one of these straight- and- narrow types who's working this job to feed his family. He's a drug dealer. And even worse,” Black Larry said, “he's a drug dealer who steals from his business partners. If that makes you feel better.”
Poe shook his head and looked down the fence, wondered what would happen if he just started climbing. They would shoot him. That was the whole point of this place.
“Young Poe.” Black Larry walked over close to him and lifted his face up, the way a father would, or a coach. “There are people on the outside who really do not like you. If you are here already it means this is your new home, and will be, most likely, for a very long time. Do you follow what I'm telling you?”
“Still,” Poe said. Black Larry kept holding Poe's face and Poe didn't know what to do with his hands, he let them hang limply by his sides. He could smell Black Larry's breath, sweet from pruno, the sunburned smell of his skin, he had heavy blond eyebrows and stubble. He had soft blue eyes, he was a fair man, he wanted the best for everyone, that was the feeling he gave off.
“You've caused some trouble with our black brothers over there, but at the moment they know that if they lay a finger on you, every single one of us goes into full combat mode. Doesn't matter whether it's twenty niggers or twenty toads. Usually there's a much longer probationary period, but you've been put on the fast track.” Black Larry was looking for something in Poe's face but it seemed he didn't find it. He let go suddenly and Poe just stood there.
Clovis said, “You ain't even getting asked that much. Reason your ce
llmate's been on lockdown six months is for putting a knife in a toad's back, maybe you read about it in the paper, three guards and twelve inmates went to the hospital.”
“No,” said Poe.
“He doesn't read the newspaper,” said Clovis.
Dwayne held up his hand. “Bud, you got lucky and you didn't. You got one of their upper guys you embarrassed the shit out of in front of the whole fuckin place and a lot of them would put a knife in you to get on his good side, not to mention you kicked open some old scabs between us and the DC Blacks. Causing us a good deal of hassle over matters we'd worked hard to settle.”
“So I got to hit this guard.”
“Not too many times,” Black Larry told him. “We want him to be alive to pay us.” He grinned.
“I understand the situation,” said Poe. “I just need to think about it some.”
Black Larry looked down at the ground and Clovis was shaking his head. “I told you guys the first fuckin time I laid eyes on this douchebag, when he first walked in the fuckin messhall.”
“There's a spot for you right here,” said Black Larry. He indicated the weight bench. “Or there's a spot for you out there.” He jabbed his thumb at the yard, at the men on the other side, at everything. “Band of brothers, Young Poe. It's all pretty simple.”
He nodded to Clovis and the two of them turned away. They walked, ambled really, slowly toward the other end of the yard. Black Larry stretched and yawned. He and Clovis approached a large group of black men who parted for them as they passed, nodded to the DC Blacks at their weight pile, then joined a group of Hispanic prisoners standing in the shade of the building; Poe could see the men gathering around to pay respect.
“This ain't the kind of thing that gets asked twice, bud. To be honest, you're kind of fucking up more than you realize right now.”
It was just him and Dwayne. Poe looked across the yard at the black men gathered on the far side, by the other weight pile, there might have been two hundred of them. There was nothing he could say. He would agree to do it and then he would figure something out. He would agree to it and get himself a few hours to think. No, he thought. You will agree to it and you will do it.
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