Things had gone from bad to worse. Lester took the last of our coils then bolted. The work flow bucked, and every worker leveled questioning eyes at me, their leader. What should I have said? I don’t know where things are headed, and Maybe Lester was right to leave when he did. But the respect he stole from me in that moment wasn’t something I could get back in the foreseeable future.
A call was made, and some spares were shifted back in for us. A good majority of the team had nothing to do, so I found it hard to insist that they stay for the remainder of their shift. We made quick work of the last few in the line with very little trouble, but the air had stalled already, and no one knew what else to feel.
The next morning, I headed into the factory by myself just before sunset, talking in the place when it was vacant. I’d pace down the aisles and knock on the tin machine until it stared to sound a little like a song I knew. But each time I came to the center of the building, I’d pause, feeling for the person I knew wouldn’t be there. I must have been there a while. I could feel the warmth of the sun spilling through the windows onto the factory floor. In a few minutes the earl morning crew would be pouring in, once they see the doors open. I needed to get myself together and face them all head on about the situation, otherwise I’d lose control of the situation. I knew what I had to do but couldn’t pull my legs from their spot.
The week continued like this. Mew saying nothing, and the crew growing conspiratory. Lester wasn’t the type to stand for the sort of thing. He’d have, in the first hint of uprising, dug a finger in the strongest willed of the workers and demanded that they speak their grievances. If they failed to comply he would claim that whatever it was held more weight in though than in practice. I’d have admired him for that and swore that had it occurred to me I’d have done the same. Only now in seeing my failure to catch his dissent in time that I see how little stomach I had for confrontation. I wasn’t Lester. There was no way I could square my shoulders at an opinion they had every right to share. I couldn’t demand loyalty when I myself doubt my leadership. Maybe that’s why Lester left. He could spot the train wreck a mile away and wanted to be as far away as possible when the collision finally hit.
—-
I remember the morning before we found Morgan’s body. I was trying my hand and fly fishing, while Lester manned the paddle. I always thought the art looked majestic and he believed I looked like an ass hat. He said I looked like a child playing at fishing with a stick and some string. Not that I could argue with him, without catching one, was beginning to think fly fishing was a sort of urban legend people passed around to make a character or ancestor seem more impressive than they really were. Like Odysseus and his impossible bow string. I’m sure any wood would have cracked under that pressure. After about a minute or two of dicking around I finally caught a small fish whose name I didn’t know. Lester spouted about water currents and native swimmers like he had been fishing all his life, and not at all like he looked it up on his phone while he waited for me.
Out of the blue, our little boat, buckled and swerved over something big. I nearly hurled my fishing rod over the edge. We were righted in a second thanks to Lester’s help, and we checked to see what the heel we just hit. Lester joked about keeping the head if it was a deer, and something about fishing being far more interesting than he remembered it. But then the body pushed to the water’s surface, revealing a shirt and a bloated tight skinned body. The veins were blue and thin and everywhere. His hair was all clumped and messy. If the coroner hadn’t cleaned him up, Lest and I never would have believed it was Morgan. Not with how he looked in that river bank.
My stomach flipped and sank all at once while Lester confirmed it was a person. I just could wrap my head around seeing a dead body like that. Or the smell. Lest made a face and lead me out away from the river before dialing the police. They were there in a matter of minutes, taping off the area and asking us how we were and what we saw.
I always thought Lester took it better than I did. He handled it with such mild temper that I almost forgot he and Morgan shared a room Sophomore year. He was close to him in a way couldn’t ever have been, and yet I acted like it was some blight on my life. Lester probably hated me for that.
Morgan’s sister Italia and I only met because of his funeral. I mean, I had seen her when she identified the body, but we hadn’t spoken in the precinct. The air was too thick with mourning and disbelief. She found me later and asked if I was the one that arranged the flowers for the procession. I had, but only because it was the one piece of personal information I knew about Morgan, aside from his sister being his only family. I felt that it was the least I could do. We walked for a minute, her waiting for a ride, and me waiting on Lester to take us home. Suggested that she head back with us, but she insisted she didn’t want things to be weird. I assumed it was because she was still mourning her only family left, but when Lester arrive I realized it was something deeper. I was sure they had history, but no one ever confirmed. I asked Lester, but he insisted it was nothing. Regardless, he offered to take her home.
She lived only a block away from me, so we attended the same gym. After a while I got used to spotting her in the reflection of a reflection. Sometimes I would ask her over if I knew Lester wouldn’t be there. Sometimes she’d show me how to make the mud colored shakes she boasted were healthier than anything she found in my pantry. She seemed to be handling the loss well, but every so often I’d catch a glimpse of her on the treadmill and she looked so miserable. I knew that she was trying not to focus on it with company.
Eventually she stopped warning me before she came over, instead I’d just find her at the doorway, holding a basket of grass and seeds and explaining the supposed health benefits before she even checked that I opened the door. For the most part they were welcome surprises, until she came over while Lester was hogging my PlayStation on the couch.
I opened the door and she rattled of the health benefits and how the smell had nothing to do with the flavor, while letting herself into my kitchen. The voice alert Lest and the two caught eyes over my kitchen counter. I could barely get a word out before Lest gave me a look, not yet accusatory but so honestly caught off guard that my stomach dug a pit beneath itself. Italia tried to be cordial and greeted him immediately, but Lester’s mind was so out of place that he didn’t even reply before asking me about her. I told her we attended the same gym and that she lived nearby, but Lester was already setting up his things to leave.
I don’t think he was trying to make a scene, but it didn’t sit well with Italia when he did. She asked if he couldn’t even be in the same room as her now. He just shook and head and waved his hand a bit, still slinging his pack over his shoulder and grabbing for his hat. Italia huffed and took off before even he could. I couldn’t follow what happened, but I think I hurt Lester for the second time since his college roommate died.
The whole event left me for want of want of company over the next few days. That I
until I found Italia outside of my door, holding a crumpled card and rubbing furiously at her nose. He eyes were slightly swollen, and he face was burning red. I t was like she had been crying all day. But the knit in her brow made it clear she was more than just sad, she was livid.
Apparently, some night after the event with Lester, the detectives on Morgan’s case found something. It seemed that they had rules Moran’s case out as a suicide far too quickly. They asked if they could dig up the body but not before hinting at the idea that Italia might have been the killer. This peeved her so much that she had to speak to somebody about it. Since her brother’s death had alienated her from her friends over the last week or so, I was the only one she could turn to. I swelled the urge to ask shy she didn’t talk to Lest about it, but I think she could read it on my face none the less.
” Lest and I” she started then stopped immediately. ” We were together for a while. But since my brother and him were so close, he decided it would be too weird. I mean. He picked my brother over me”
She laughed it off, but I could tell it still bothered her. Lester wasn’t the type to think anyone thought about him seriously. HE always talked about romance like it was made up to make people feel better, like the adult equivalent of the Easter bunny. It wasn’t the sort of thing he expected for himself, or anyone he was with. Italia just ended up getting the boot of that. She pinched her arms still wrapped tightly around herself and sniffed.
I wasn’t sure what to tell her. Lester had been my closest friend since high school and I couldn’t put myself at ease at the sake of his reputation. So, I merely nodded, kneading my hands into my thigh.
“I… I should have- I don’t know what I came here. I’m sorry. you don’t have to-”
“No, no it’s….” It didn’t really want to say fine. It certainly wasn’t but “you can keep going if you want. I mean, or you could up. Do you want to talk about the case?”
she paused for a moment, not really following what I meant, before creasing her brows again.
“Those assholes think I had something to do with my brother-with him”
Her expression didn’t change but he voices cracked[sole] taking on the responsibility of expressing her feelings. I figured out what she meant. From what the police had told her, she was the only person her brother had been in contact with over that last month, and it was a squabble about their inheritance.
Italia just didn’t want Morgan wasting it on a mother career that wasn’t helping him do anything with his life. She thought that if her parents had been alive they’d have never wanted him to be an engineer, he didn’t have the mentality for it. According to Italia every engineering job he had gotten he had been fired for ignore his assignments in favor of pet projects. Something about self-suspension and coil magnetism.
“Morrie should have been a scientist of a physician of a fucking teach or whatever else! Anything but a bucking civil engineer! I just…. he was trying to go to school for Entrepreneuring. Like. What the fuck. Can you imagine Morgan trying to sell fucking stocks or a gladdened vacuum or something?”
She ran a hand through her hair, the topic wearing her out faster than a 10-mile run.
” I mean, that was my major” she looked up at me as I spoke ” that and business management. And I… I never sold a fucking vacuum”
I meant it as a joke. But Italia just stared at me a minute. A whole 60 seconds before she faced the ground, hair obscuring her face.
“Your so damn weird, David” I could hear her smiling before she looked at me. That was better. I think.
Believe me I suck 