ICONOCLASTS || Dallas Winston

TWENTY-SIX

"Oh, hell no," said Darrel Curtis.

He looked up at me from his newspaper, raising a scornful eyebrow.

I shrugged. "I'm just telling you what he said."

"Ain't no way I'm letting Dally sit in a cell for god knows how long," Darrel declared. "I'm going to that bail hearing."

Dallas had been arrested two days ago, though it felt simultaneously like ages had passed, and no time had gone by at all. According to what he'd told me over the phone previously, his bail hearing was today.

Even though Dallas didn't want Darrel to bail him out, I decided to tell him about the hearing anyway. Darrel had already heard about the arrest from his brothers, but upon learning this additional information, he was appalled that Dallas would even consider asking him not to post bail.

I was sitting across from Darrel at his family's dining room table while he finished his scrambled eggs. I'd wanted to catch him early on in the day, before he left for work. I leaned back against the wooden chair, folding my hands in my lap thoughtfully.

"What if it's a high price?" I asked. "The charges they're trying to get him with are pretty hefty. I feel like the bail amount could end up being something ridiculous."

"That's of no concern to me. I'll get the money back as long as he doesn't try to run, so all I have to do is make sure he stays put."

"Still, it'd be a lot of money to put up for him; money that could be spent on food or bills. It's a big sacrifice."

"Well, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it." Darrel paused, studying me quizzically. "It's beginning to sound like you don't even want Dally out of jail."

"Of course I do," I said, wincing afterward at the desperation in my tone. "But I don't want you to suffer because of it."

It was true. I knew how hard Darrel worked to provide for his brothers. If he locked away an exorbitant amount of money into a bail bond, it could result in his own family going without.

"Don't worry about me," Darrel reassured me. He folded his paper and set it down beside him. "I'll figure something out."

"I told Dallas there'd be no talking you out of it," I said with a chuckle. "But if you're going to pay his bail, you probably don't want to miss a day of work. How about I go to the hearing today and tell you how much they set it at?"

"I'd appreciate that," he replied. "Thanks, Vivien."

"Thank you. For doing this."

Darrel just smiled. "You know I want to see him walking free too."

I was off to the courthouse by midafternoon. I found the courtroom where Dallas's bail would be set, and sat in the back to avoid drawing any attention from the law. Though I got my kicks from rebelling against authority, I still feared its cold stare. I did, however, want one cold stare to notice me: Dallas's.

It seemed I had arrived early; after all, Dallas hadn't told me what time his bail hearing would be at. As such, I had to sit through a couple other hearings first. All the legal jargon was boring, but it did help prepare me for what to expect when Dallas finally walked in the courtroom.

The massive door creaked open once more, and I glanced over, expecting to see another stranger. But this time it was Dallas whose figure stalked through, shrugging off the court officer who tried to herd him in.

His orange jumpsuit was baggy, undignified, and the way he held his cuffed hands in front of him looked almost natural. He wasn't exactly the image of someone who should be granted bail, if I was picturing him from an outside perspective. I only hoped the judge could see past appearances.

Dallas didn't seem to notice me sitting in the back row. I wanted to scream out his name, call his attention to me, let him know someone was here for him. It took everything within me to bite my tongue. I watched in silence as he took his seat. All I could see from my vantage point was his back, but it was better than nothing.

The process commenced, but I was lost in thought. I bit my nails as I stared at the back of Dallas's head, praying to any god who would listen that he'd be presented with a reasonable bail. I was so preoccupied with nervous energy that I nearly missed the final decision. I only caught the tail-end of the judge's statement:

". . . in the amount of one thousand dollars."

My stomach tightened—whether with horror or excitement, I wasn't sure. I was glad he was being granted bail, though the thousand-dollar price was bad news. For a Soc it'd be no big deal, but on the East Side, it was a fortune.

The judge moved on quickly, dismissing Dallas and calling for the next inmate to be sent in. He was uncaring about the fates of the people whose hope he held in his hands; to him, it was just a job.

It meant more than that to me. In my eyes, this decision was imperative to the life of someone I cared about so intensely. Someone who, on his way back toward the door, finally saw me. His head shot up, and he seemed at once to become more vibrant.

"Vivien."

All common sense left me at the sound of my name falling from his lips. I stood up and rushed to the end of the aisle in which I'd been seated, pulling him into an embrace before anyone could stop me. He couldn't hug me back, as his arms were restrained, but he rested his head in the crook of my neck.

"You came," he said, his words muffled by the collar of my shirt.

"Of course," I said, holding him tightly. "Of course I did, Dallas. We're gonna get you out, okay?"

All he said in response was, "A thousand fuckin' dollars."

"Move it," said the uniformed man who gripped Dallas's shoulder. "This ain't a conjugal visit."

"We'll figure it out," I said to Dallas, ignoring the man behind him. As the officer pulled him away, I continued, "I promise."

Maybe we shouldn't make promises we aren't sure we can keep, and maybe I had no level of certainty at all about Dallas's fate. In that moment, though, all I cared about was keeping his spirits up.

Everything would be fine; that was what I told myself. It had to be.