Bad Love

except for that symposium.'

'Except for? Except for! That's like Eichmann saying he had nothing to do with Hitler except for getting those trains to the camps. That symposium was a public love fest, you asshole! You stood up there and canonized him! He tortured children and you canonized him!'

'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 shunned except by Delmar. He couldn't think clearly, but he had a heart of gold. Hitler took him in for the publicity- poor little Negro retardo helped by the great white doctor. When visitors came, he always had his hand on Delmar's woolly little head. But Delmar was no great success. Delmar couldn't remember rules or learn how to read and write. So when there were no visitors around, he kept bad-loving him, over and over. And when that didn't work, they sent in the she-beast.'

'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 Connecti- a summer place, lots of trucks and tractors. One of the farmhands taught me. Planning the break was hard because Delmar had trouble remembering details. We had a bunch of false starts. Finally we made it out, late at night, everyone asleep. Delmar was scared. I had to drag him.'

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.'

'So you won,' I said.

'Oh, yeah,' he said. 'I was the conquering hero.' Jab. 'My victory bought me more dungeons. More sadists, pills, and needles. That's what your places are about, whether you call them hospitals or jails or schools. Killing the spirit.'

I remembered the flash of anger he'd shown in his office, when we'd talked about Dorsey Hewitt.

He should have been taken care of…

Institutionalized?

Taken care of. Not jailed- oh, hell, even jail wouldn't have been bad if that would have meant treatment. But it never does.

'But you got past that,' I said. 'You made it through law school, you're helping other people.'

He laughed and the gun retreated an inch or two.

'Don't patronize me, you fuck. Yeah, let's hear it for higher education. You know where I learned my torts and jurisprudence? The library at Rahway State Prison. Filing appeals for myself and the other wretches. That's where I learned the law was written by the oppressors to benefit the oppressors. But like fire, you could learn to use it. Make it work for you.'

He laughed again and wiped his forehead. 'The only bars I ever passed, were the ones on my cell. For five years, I've been going up against yuppie careerist assholes from Harvard and Stanford and kicking their asses in court. I've had judges compliment my work.'

'Five years,' I said. 'Right after Myra.'

'Right before.' He grinned. 'The bitch was a gift to myself. I'd just gotten the gig at the center. Gave myself two gifts. The bitch and a new guitar- black Les Paul Special. You remember my guitar, don't you? All that rapport-building crap you slung at me in my office?'

The guitar-pick tiepin…

What do you do mostly, electric or acoustic?

Lately I've been getting into electric.

Special effects, too. Phase shifters…

He grinned and raised his free hand as if for a high-five. 'Hey, bro, let's jam and cut a record.'

'Is that the offer you gave Lyle Gritz?'

The grin shrank.

'A human decoy,' I said. 'To throw me off the track?'

He jabbed me hard with the gun and slapped my face with his free hand. 'Shut up and stop controlling, or I'll do you right here and make your little friend in there clean it up. Keep those fucking hands up- up!'