Free The Last Worthless Evening by Andre Dubus Page B

take a big breath to go underwater. I didn’t know I was going under no water. I didn’t have any air left. I started getting scared I was swimming to the bottom ’stead of the top. Then I was at the top and breathing. I mean that’s all I could do, was breathe. And swim to the pier and grab the ladder. I wasn’t even thinking about that white boy. I climbed up and—” Still he looked at the deck, but his head twitched upward, his neck tightened; then he let them ease down again. “Mister Fontenot’s right. They must have known, on the boat. There was people on the pier. Sailors looking down at the water. When I come up the ladder. I just didn’t think nothing then. I just wanted to keep sucking air, and get out of the water. Get on the liberty boat. And then the Shore Patrol come behind everybody and was yelling everybody get on the boat. So that’s what we did. When I got on I checked for my wallet and I still had it. My watch was still ticking too. Then I just sat low as I could, keep out of the wind. I guess that’s it.”
    Still he looked down. Gantner typed three more lines, and there was no ringing when he finished the last one. Then he spaced twice and typed faster than I could count but I knew the letters before they came, so I heard with each click the spelling of Kenneth D. Ellis. Then the room was silent. Gantner lit a cigarette, and Ellis looked up at me.
    â€œDo you want to sign this?” I said.
    â€œSure, I’ll sign it. Mister Fontenot, sir.”
    â€œEllis.”
    â€œSir?”
    â€œNothing will happen.”
    â€œLooks like a lot is happening. And a lot going to happen.”
    â€œListen to me, Ellis. If they thought you were a man who goes around killing people, they’d have told me to put you in the brig. They didn’t, did they?”
    â€œNo sir.”
    â€œSo being under arrest is just a formality. I’m charging you with disorderly conduct. They’ll appoint an investigating officer. Tomorrow, to get it done with. When he’s talked to you, you’ll be free. To go on liberty. You can do whatever you want till he sees you. You just have to stay aboard.”
    â€œWhat about that boy?”
    â€œYou didn’t drown him.”
    â€œWe went into the—”
    â€œEllis. Somebody provoked you. You wrestled with him. You both fell in the water. You swam out. He didn’t. It’s not like you held him under till he was dead.”
    â€œBut—” Then all fear and confusion and his resignation to whatever fate he had imagined left his eyes, and they showed sadness, not of grief but remorse.
    â€œYou didn’t kill him, Ellis. They won’t even charge you with assault and battery. I’m sure of it.”
    â€œThat’s not it.”
    â€œI know it’s not.”
    We looked at each other, his eyes imploring mine for forgiveness I could not grant, because I was not his friend; and imploring me too for some cleansing, some blessing short of removing him from the pier and restoring him with both energy and money to the bar with his friends, where he would drink with them and catch a later boat, long after the white boy who called him nigger was asleep in his bunk.
    â€œWhy don’t you read that and sign it,” I said. “Then get that shower. And some warm sleep.”
    As though rising after a long illness, he slowly pushed himself up from the chair, straightened his back, and was standing. Gantner pulled the sheets of paper from the typewriter and handed them to Ellis; then he stood and put on his cap and stepped toward the hatch, and I moved aside for him. He crossed the deck and stood at the rail. I looked at Ellis reading. Then I went out too and stood beside Gantner; we did not speak. After a while, and at the same time, we bent our waists and leaned on the rail, looking down at the sea, and I remembered as a boy loving to stand on those old wooden bridges over