it.
Of course, she hadn’t said a word. She wished she had but she hadn’t. It was easy now to look back and think these things, but at the time she’d wanted to fit in and go along with Bunny and think yes I deserve this happy life I’m living.
Isaac’s friendship with Poe still baffled her. But of course her friendship with Poe must have baffled him as well. Maybe it was that people had always set them, Poe and Isaac, so far apart—Poe because of his talent for everything physical, Isaac because of his mind. The truth was they were both the best at what they did in that school. It was a special sort of small- town bitterness that must have thrived on seeing them both fail.
After Isaac’s first visit to New Haven, she’d thought maybe he’d come back, a month during the summer, she would scrape together money for a full- time caretaker for her father, just for the month. By then she already had two credit cards—she would find a way to pay for it somehow.
But Isaac had not responded to her offers to come. He was already changing. No, she thought, he might just have cared about his father too much. Henry would have seen it as Isaac going on vacation in Connecticut, and Isaac cared too much about what Henry thought of him to risk it. You had it easy, she thought. You got let off the hook.
The truth was that Isaac was not as ready to leave as he claimed. He had had a longer time to think about their mother, whereas she was already being pulled into another orbit—she’d left for New Haven almost immediately. What kind of people Isaac and her father could have become in the intervening years, she had no idea. Anything could have happened. You got lucky, she thought. You were too selfish to even consider staying.
Isaac: you could give him two random numbers, tell him to multiply them in his head: 439 times 892. He could tell you the answer in a few seconds. He just saw the answer, he didn’t even do the calculation. Divide them—it was the same. Once she’d sat with a calculator, testing him, certain he must have memorized certain combinations of numbers, certain there was some trick. But there was no trick. There’s parts of me I don’t understand, he said, and shrugged.
Her boyfriend from freshman year, Todd Hughes, the physics major, had loved Isaac, seen his brilliance, offered to help with the applications. Isaac had sat next to Todd for most of the weekend. But she’d gotten bored with Todd. Or maybe he had just come too soon, she had been too young. You should have stayed with him just for Isaac, she thought. You’re the only one in this family who isn’t making any sacrifices. Simon, who had met Isaac that same weekend, had formed no real impression of him, and Isaac had formed no impression of Simon.
There had been a time once, through most of high school, when it had seemed to her that if she closed her eyes and thought about it long enough, she could see exactly where Isaac was. Because you knew his routine, she thought. There was no magic in it. She continued to drive along the high road that followed the river.
Alright, she thought. She pulled over at the place by the river and turned off the car and looked out over the grass and the gorge rising steeply out of the water and the way the river bent quickly out of sight, unknowable. She put her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes and thought about her brother.
9. Isaac
From the dark woods, through the screen of leaves, he could see two people standing at the edge of the Wal- Mart parking lot, where it was well lit. They were young men, around his age, wearing their blue vests. Happy for the diversion—chase the shoplifter. Tell all their friends they nearly caught you. But following you into the dark…
He turned and continued farther into the woods, reaching a stream after a few hundred yards, the water shining in the faint moonlight that came through the canopy. Old tires and mattresses, beer bottles. No one coming down here after you. There’s a path on the other side.
He wasn’t sure of the direction but he followed the flowing water. That was easy, he thought. You knew you needed that coat, didn’t have to think about it. Allow things to happen and they work out fine. Overthink, get self- conscious, that’s when your mistakes happen. Staying in that old factory when the Swede showed up, then going back to move the body. Deciding to sleep in that clearing near a person you didn’t trust. Letting go of your knife while he robs you of everything, instead you grab his coat, then chase him down the street. What would you have done if you’d caught him—used your powers of rhetoric?
If Poe were here he wouldn’t have let you do that, keep sleeping near the Baron. No, if Poe were here I wouldn’t have even met the Baron. Except Poe is not here. You will probably never see him again. Think about that, Watson—all those people are gone to you. There was a hollow feeling that started in his stomach and quickly spread through the rest of his body. Keep walking, he thought. It’ll pass.
A mile or so later it felt safe enough to stop. He’d crossed under several bridges, it was a different neighborhood, less trash along the stream. Time to get cleaned up. One last look around. See—you’re alone. He stripped off his old clothes. There were lights from distant houses but it was very dark along the stream, comforting. Everything changing. Used to be afraid of the dark, now it makes you feel safe. Remember being a kid, sleeping out in the yard and leaving the tent fly open so you could see the house. Different story these days.
Alright, stop dawdling. Get that scraggle off your face. He set the stolen toiletries on a rock by the water and stripped down until he was just wearing his new pants, then splashed the streamwater on his face and hair, lathered and rinsed, rubbed the shaving gel onto his cheeks and neck and shaved by feel. Picked a cheap razor like you were paying for it. Make another pass to be sure. He relathered his face and shaved a second time. Dry off quick—tainted water, a trillion bacteria per gallon. Smells like fuel oil.
He dressed carefully, tucking his new clean shirt into his clean pants, pulling the fleece on top and then the jacket. All the energy bars had fallen out of his pockets, probably while he was running. Forgot to close the zippers, he thought. An entire day’s worth of food. He shook his head. Doesn’t matter. Focus on the good—clean hair, clean face, clean clothes. In a minute you’ll be warm again.
Still following the stream, he passed behind a long apartment complex and under another busy roadway, then a second development, town-homes with backyards that came down to the water. Suburban dreamland, creek in your backyard. Meanwhile there’s a dark side—a conduit for wanted men.
He stopped to look at the houses just up the hill, the people oblivious in their good lighting. Woodsmoke in the air, cozy fires. A teenager on her back porch talking on a cellphone; a dozen or so people in the house next door, some sort of party, all oblivious to Isaac walking through the darkness, fifty yards away.
Theoretical situation: let’s say you had to choose between you and them—those people there, total strangers. Press the red button, drop a nuke. That’s not a useful question, he thought. Okay so imagine
Up on someone’s porch, a dog began to bark. Speaking of—thinks you’ll steal his kibble. The people at the party looked through the window toward Isaac, but didn’t see him. Meanwhile pooch knows you’re here—the supposedly dumb animal.
He kept walking. Don’t think about these people, your day has been bad enough. Spared the rod spoiled the Baron. Seemed like the only choice but maybe it was not—six dollars in your pocket and the police have seen your face. He felt a shiver go through him. Ended up in gun-sights. Cop could have shot you dead. Would have been legal, a fleeing felon. His compassion made the trigger too heavy—you reminded him of his son. Only luck you’ve had in years.
Two days and you’ll be out of food and money, presuming something doesn’t happen before then. Can’t beg on streetcorners—they know your description. Most likely they have your pack as well, your name. Not to mention any fallout from the Swede. Interstate warrant.
Keep on like this and they’ll find your body in the bushes. To them just another mystery, to you
He kept walking, glanced around him in the darkness. No one is watching, just you. Might be too late
