Bad Love

The gun hand wavered a bit… not enough.

Scratch, bump.

"Mummy was thrilled-she knew him from his magazine articles. A famous man willing to tame her wild child." His free hand fluttered. "The cab came and she sent it off empty."

The gun withdrew far enough for me to see its black snout, dark against his white knuckles.

Two hellholes on the same street. De Bosch exploiting Bancroft's failures. An alumnus of both schools, coming back years later, a tramp… the clean-cut face in front of me bore no street scars. But sometimes the wounds that healed weren't the important ones.

"Across the street I went. Mummy signed some papers and left me alone with Hitler. He smiled at me and said, "Andrew, little Andrew. We have the same name, let's be friends.' Me saying, "Fuck you, old goat.' He smiled again and patted my head. Took me down a long dark hall, shoved me into a cell, and locked it. I cried all night. When they let me out for lunch, I snuck into the kitchen and found matches."

A wistful look came into his eyes.

"How thorough was I tonight? Did I leave anything standing at Casa del Shrinko?"

I remained silent.

The gun poked me. "Did I?"

"Not much."

"Good. It's a shoddy world, thoroughness is so rare a quality. You personify shoddiness. You were as easy to get to as a sardine in a can. All of you were- tell me, why are psychotherapists such a passive, helpless bunch? Why are you all such absolute wimps- talking about life rather than doing anything?"

I didn't answer.

He said, "You really are, you know. Such an unimpressive group. Stripped of your jargon, you're noth- if that dog of yours doesn't shut up, I'm going to kill him- better yet, I'll make you kill him. Make you eat him- we can grill him on that barbecue you've got out back. A nice little hot dog- that would be justice, wouldn't it- making you confront your own cruelty? Give you a taste of empathy?"

"Why don't we just let him go?" I said. "He's not mine, just a stray I took in."

"How kind of you." Jab. My breastbone felt inflamed.

I said, "Why don't we let my friend go, too? She hasn't seen your faces."

He smiled and settled back a bit.

"Shoddiness," he said. "That's the big problem. Phony science, false premises, false promises. You pretend to help people but you just mind-fuck them."

He leaned forward. "How do you manage to live with yourself, knowing you're a phony?"

Jab. "Answer me."

"I've helped people."

"How? With voodoo? With bad love?"

Trying to keep the whine out of my voice, I said, "I had nothing to do with de Bosch except for that symposium."

"Except for? Except for! That's like Eichma

"I didn't know."

"Yeah, you and all the other good Germans."

He spat at me again. The knuckles of his gun hand were tiny cauliflowers. Sweat popped at his hairline.

"That's it?" he said. "That's your excuse-"I didn't know'? Pathetic. Just like all the others. For a bunch of supposedly educated people, you can't even plead for yourselves effectively. No class. Delmar had more class in his little finger than the lot of you put together, and he was retarded. Not that it stopped them from bad-loving him day in and day out."

He shook his head and flung sweat. I saw his index finger move up and down the trigger. The painful, hungry look on his face made my bowels churn. But then it was gone and he was smiling again.

"Retarded," he said, as if enjoying the word. "Fourteen, but he was more like a seven-year-old. I was twelve, but I ended up being his big brother. He was the only one in the place who'd talk to me- beware the dangerous pyromaniac- Hitler warned them all against having anything to do with me. I was completely shu

"Myra Evans?"

"No, not her, you idiot. She was the bitch, I'm talking about the beast-Dr. Daughter. Kill-Me Kate-thank you, I already have."

High-pitched laughter. The gun moved back some more and I stared into its single, black eye.

The dog began scratching again, but Coburg didn't notice.

"When the beast finished with Delmar, he was drooling and crapping his pants and banging his head against the wall."

"What did she do to him?"

"What did she do? She did a number on his head. And other parts of his body."

"She molested him?"

His free hand touched his cheek and he arched his eyebrows.

"Such shock, the poor man is shocked! Yeah, she molested him, you idiot. In ways that hurt. He'd come back from sessions with her crying and holding himself. Crawl into bed, weeping. I had the room next door. I'd pick the lock and sneak him something to drink. When I asked him what the matter was, he wouldn't tell me. Not for weeks. Then he finally did. I didn't know much about sex, period, let alone ugly things. He pulled down his pants and showed me the marks. Dried blood all over his shorts. That was my introduction to the birds and the bees. It altered me, it altered me."

His lips vibrated and he swallowed hard a couple of times. The gun arm like steel.

The glass door vibrated.

"So he took the truck," I said. "To escape what she was doing to him."

"We took it. I knew how to drive because Evil had a farm in Co

The gun barrel made tiny arcs.

"I had no idea which way to go, so I just drove. The roads kept getting curvier. Delmar was scared out of his mind, crying for his mama. I'm telling him everything's okay- but some idiot left sawhorses in the middle of the road- a ditch, no warning lights. We skidded… off the road… I yelled for Delmar to jump free, tried to pull him out, but he was too heavy- then my door flipped open and I was thrown out. Delmar…"

He licked his lips and breathed with forced deliberation. His finger tapped the trigger.

"Boom. Kaboom," he said. "Life is so tenuous, isn't it?"

He looked winded, dripping perspiration. The big smile on his face was forced.

"He… it took me two hours to walk back to hell. My clothes were torn and I'd twisted my ankle. It was a miracle- I was alive. Meant for something. I managed to crawl into bed… my teeth were chattering so loud I was sure everyone would wake up. It took a while till the commotion began. Talking, footsteps, lights going on. Then Hitler came stomping into my room, tore the covers off me, and stared at me- foaming at the mouth. I looked right back at him. This crazy look came into his eyes and he lifted his hands- like he was ready to claw me. I stared right back at him and pulled my pud. And he just let his arms drop. Walked out. Never spoke to me again. I was locked in my room for three days. On the fourth day, Mummy came and picked me up. Go east, young victor."