A Ship Made of Paper

them in but a couple ofcounselors and an electric fence.”He looks at Daniel, trying to gauge the level ofagree-ment or disagreement.“These are the‘boys’that made you decide to get your white liberal ass out ofthe city and come back home.The kid I picked up? First ofall, his mother, who was probably twelve or some-thing when she had him, names him Bruce, probably after some Bruce Lee movie, and then, just to be Ebonic and make sure he never learns how to spell, she spells it B-r-e-w-s-e.”

“Since when do you care so much about spelling?”

“I learned how to spell.You used to cram it into my head before spelling tests.”

“I don’t remember it doing all that much good.Anyhow, spelling’s just custom.African-Americans are making their own customs.”

“Yeah, well this kid makes alotofhis own customs.Like the custom ofcapping the first motherfucker who stands between him and a new pair ofNikes.”

There’s a sourness in Derek’s voice, a disdain, which Daniel believes is an occupational hazard for cops, like squinting for a jeweler, or grisly jokes for a surgeon, but there’s an element ofracial scorn that Daniel can’t recall ever having heard from Derek before.Is it because he caught Daniel looking at theAfrican-American porn magazines? Or does Derek somehow sense that Daniel has fallen in love with a black woman? Did Daniel ever, in some swoon ofnostalgia for their old boyhood closeness, talk to Derek about Iris?

Derek draws on his cigarette and pulls the smoke deep into his lungs—he smoked marijuana before cigarettes and it shows.When he fi-nally exhales, very little ofthe smoke comes back out.

“What about tonight?”he asks Daniel.“Want to get a bite to eat orsomething?”

“I don’t know, Derek.It’s really hard to get Kate to go out, you know that.”And, for all Daniel knows, Derek may sense that Kate finds him dull company and that Stephanie is a sort ofparadigm for suburban fu-tility, with her mall bangs and turquoise spandex tights, her exhausting cheerfulness—Kate calls her the last ofthe StepfordWives.

“I was thinking just you and me, Danny,”Derek says.His face colors and Daniel realizes with a helpless lurch that his old friend feels embar-rassed asking him to sit down and share a meal.But the embarrassment, rather than make Derek shrink back, somehow propels him forward.He has nothing more to lose.“I really would like that,”he says.“We—”

“No, that would be great,”Daniel says, not being able to bear the awkwardness a moment longer.“I’ll just make sure nothing’s pending at home.

I’ll call you around six, six-thirty.”Who knows?They might go to a restau-rant and end up accidentally seeing Iris.Wouldn’t that be something?

Derek flicks his Camel Light into the rain.“How cool is it that you moved back here?”he says, grinning, shaking his head.His cruiser is parked next to Daniel’s car, blue lights slowly revolving, and every car that passes on the highway slows down at the sight ofit.He has left the window open and the sound ofhis radio can be heard.The dispatcher’s voice, static moving through it like whitewater.Daniel cannot under-stand a word, and Derek seems not even to hear it.

“How’s Mercy Crane working out?”he asks.

”She’s great.Thanks for putting us in touch with her.”

“She used to baby-sit for Chelsea.”He clasps his hands behind his back and stretches extravagantly.“She’s really something.”

“Mercy?”

“Real strict parents, though.Especially Jeff.He’s nuts, you gotta watch out for him.He’s the kind ofcop that gives cops a bad name.”

“She likes movies.I always try and rent something interesting for her to watch.”

“Oh yeah, she likes movies.And music, and just laughing her ass off.

She’s an amazing girl.And sexy, don’t you think? Not that I would ever do anything, but God, she is so fucking hot, those big eyes and those little spindly wrists and always wearing just enough perfume to let you know she knows exactly what you’re thinking.”He claps Daniel on the back.

”All right, buddy, go back in there and do your business, I’m out ofhere.”

“Me, too.”

“Yeah?What about your magazines?”

“Just looking.”

“I didn’t mean to bust you, Danny.Feel free.Our age, a nice jerk-off helps keep the lid on.Though I could never, not with a black lady.It just doesn’t do it for me.”

“I’ll call you tonight, then,”Daniel says.

”Okay, good.I really need to talk to you.”

“Is everything okay, Derek?”

Derek looks at him as ifhe were insane.“Ofcourse not,”he says, and then laughs.Daniel stands there and watches Derek get into his cruiser and drive away.He gets into his own car and drives into Leyden, through the rain that is now just beginning to include a few intermittent streaks ofsnow, loose skeins ofwhite woven into the gray ofthe day.

Daniel arrives at his office building, swings around back, where there is parking for tenants and clients only.The first thing he sees is a green Volvo station wagon, with the license plateWDC785.

Iris.

What’s she doing here?It’s unlikely she is doing business at Software Solutions, and the financial planner is inAustria for the month.She must be here to see the child psychologist, Warren Maltby, an exceptionally small man, with tar-black hair.The thought ofIris up there, with Nelson or without him, strikes Daniel with sudden force.What could the trouble be?Were they taking him to a shrink because he supposedly hit a kid at day care? Daniel sensed that Nelson is one ofthe teachers’favorites—with his clean cubby, princely table manners, perfect diction, and star-tling beauty.Ruby has actually enjoyed a rise in status since becoming Nelson’s best friend.Like the homecoming queen on the arm ofthe school’s football hero.

By now he has wandered over to Iris’sVolvo and peers into it.The baby seat is strapped into an otherwise empty and immaculate backseat.

The family dog, an elderlyAustralian shepherd named Scarecrow, sleeps deeply in the way back, her eyelids trembling while she dreams.Daniel raps a knuckle against the side window and Scarecrow opens one red-dened eye.“Hi, Crow,”he says, currying the dog’s favor.Then he looks into the front ofthe car.In the passenger seat is a stack ofbooks with li-brary markings on their spines.On top ofthe books is a spiral notebook, opened to a page ofher handwriting, black flowing letters, old-fashioned in their shapeliness.Through the glare and his reflection, he reads,Harlem Ren.economic engine B.intell.repudiate Marx 19% unem.extend.fam“A safety net made not of government giveaways and fashioned by would-be social engi-neers, but consisting of a weave of family structure, rural communalism and Chris-tianity.”And then he opens the door and picks up the notebook.He riffles through the pages like a spy, and then, miraculously, and terribly, he sees, on an otherwise blank page, his initials.DE,written small, in the center ofthe page, the exact center, with a circle drawn around them.His heart accelerates as ifhe has suddenly sprouted wings and begun to fly.

But he doesn’t have a chance to obsess, not just then.He turns around to see her walking across the parking lot.She is alone, not a hun-dred feet away.It’s always so startling to see her, like spotting a celebrity.

She seems to float toward him.

“I thought your lights were on,”he says, dropping her notebook and swinging the door shut.It closes with a sturdy Swedish finality that he hopes will prevent her from asking any questions.

“You’re all dressed up,”she says.

Daniel touches the knot ofhis tie.“I was in court.”

“Did you win?”

“That’s the thing about court, you rarely win and you rarely lose.”

“I once thought I was going to be a lawyer,”Iris says.“My dad always said I should be one, but just because I argued over everything, you know that way slightly spoiled kids do.I thought I could talk him into anything.”

The thought ofher as a child both stuns and provokes Daniel, imagining her that way, in that distant world.

She senses his mind is elsewhere and moves her face a little closer to his.

”Is that why you wanted to be a lawyer?”she asks.

”I never argued with my parents, I was too afraid ofthem.I thought they’d fire me.”