I look for the ships down there, spot one passing beneath the Bay Bridge. I imagine somewhere in there a girl just like Clara with hair blacker than Alé’s or Lexi from Demond’s party, small and shaking, is pressed between stacks of cargo. The sound of water, waves, thrashing; the only constant.
And here I am, above water. I think about what Alé said to me, how I chose this and Clara didn’t and somehow I’m here and she’s gone and the world just ain’t fair. Death is always a possibility in the streets, but it didn’t feel real until now, knowing Alé could’ve been planning her sister’s funeral and I am simply a reminder of what might have happened to her.
The least I can do is be grateful to still be breathing. If I’m lucky enough to not be submerged, then maybe Marcus can be lucky enough, too. I turn back to Marsha, who is awkwardly standing and watching me.
“What about my brother?” I ask. None of it matters if I can’t have Marcus back and, without Uncle Ty, I have no other strings to pull. I need to get him back, so that he can do things different, be better.
Marsha takes a minute to look out at the water, joins me by the ledge. “This looks worse for the department than they’re going to let you know. If we play our cards right, we can use your brother as leverage, like a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” I’ve entered too many negotiations that ended in my pockets empty, chest a tight knot, exposed.
Marsha smiles. “That’s the fun part. We have the power here. They’re going to try to make you feel like they do, but you aren’t the one with everything at stake.”
Feels like I am.
“And what if I decide not to testify?”
“They’re going to subpoena you whether you like it or not, so you won’t have a choice about being there. The only thing you have control over is what you say.”
“What if I lie?”
Marsha sighs, slips her bottom lip under her top one. “You will be under oath and I will never advise you to break that. However, if you do decide to lie, then most likely your brother would go to prison for a considerable period of time and the grand jury wouldn’t indict, meaning all the officers who were involved can continue to do whatever they would like without consequence.”
“And if I tell the truth?” The sun’s finally found its way into the peak of the sky and Trevor’s probably starting to stir from his Sunday sleep.
Marsha’s whole body relaxes, letting her shoulders drop for the first time. “If you tell the truth, then we have a chance at an indictment and changing the way this kind of thing works. After that, we can sue the police department and get you enough money you won’t have to do this anymore.” She sighs. “For now, we prepare. They’re going to throw everything at you. As soon as the district attorney’s office alerts us of a subpoena, we’ll need to be ready for every question, every little thing they might ask. Only the district attorney, the jurors, and a court reporter will be present for your testimony, since the grand jury is closed. That means we need to get you ready, so you won’t even need me in the courtroom. For now, you stay under the radar. I don’t want you on the streets and I don’t want you near any officer under any circumstances. Understand?”
I nod and I know that by trusting Marsha, I’m giving up these streets, giving up so much of what has become my world, at least for now. I thought it would feel like a celebration, and it does, but it also feels like a grieving, still trying to make sense of the months and the men and what I have given up in the name of feeling like I am in control, like I belong to myself even for a moment before it fractures and I remember. When I am tired and cold and just want to curl into a bed that isn’t a couch or eat something that isn’t microwaved. Marsha is telling me I’m free, but I’m still living with the repercussions of the streets, of the job that was supposed to just be a job until it became much more.
Marsha looks satisfied enough, says she’ll take me home. There’s still half the pizza left over and Marsha says I can take it with me. Trevor’s gonna devour the rest of it, stuff his belly until I can’t see his ribs no more. The thought of it has me really smiling for the first time all week.
Before she lets me out of the car, Marsha reaches over and squeezes my hand. Hers is so small I bet two of her fists would equal the size of my one. “If you act like you know what the fuck you’re doing, people will trust that you do. That’s it, that’s how you win.” Hearing Marsha cuss is like hearing a dog talk and I know she meant it like that, no way for me to ignore it. I nod, step out the car, and walk up to my gate.