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  Yet there was no choice but to come forward, & declare Yes I am Q__ P__. & calm & quizzical approaching the police officers at the door, one uniformed & the other in suit & tie. Greeted me & asked would I step outside. But I did not. Nor did I invite them inside. For this was not like the arrest after the black boy ran bellowing into the street when they dragged me from the van & threw me on my belly & face in the dirt & cuffed my wrists behind my back so I screamed in pain. This was not an actual arrest—was it? But only a questioning. For there were many names on the computer, known sex offenders. For they had no evidence, & they had no warrant or they would already be at their search. Don’t let them inside the house, Dad’s lawyer had said. Don’t go anywhere with them voluntarily. If they continue to harass you, call me. Any hour of the night or day—call me. They were asking could they come inside & I shook my head no, I did not think so. They were polite asking again would I step outside & I was polite & reasonable saying, trying not to stammer, I did not think so. & this surprised them, who are accustomed to bullying citizens. I asked them what did they want? & they looked at me, the older of them in the suit & tie sucking his lip, You know what we want, son, don’t you, & I shook my head no, no I did not, & steeled myself looking at his eyes, & I saw no certainty in them, nor in the face of the other. & this went on for several minutes. & what I knew was that I knew, & they did not. & that I knew of my rights as a citizen. & would not acquiesce to police harassment of a man on probation, who has not violated probation. & a man who is “gay” & does not advertise the fact but is not ashamed of it either, & guilty of nothing because of it either. & at last they spoke of a “young boy” who had been “abducted” the evening before in Dale Springs & he was missing & his bicycle found in an alley & they only wanted to ask a few questions of me, what I might know of this or might have heard, etc., here or at the precinct station, & if I had no objection they would like to look around the premises a little. & I shook my head & repeated no I did not think so, my lawyer has advised me to call him if there is trouble of any kind from the police, if I am harassed in any way & I would like to call him now.

  & there was a silence. & the cops stood & stared at me, & I remained inside the doorway not surrendering an inch.

  The detective said, All right, son. Call your lawyer. Call him right now. & we’ll be right out here.

  So I called Dad’s lawyer at his home. & my voice young & aggrieved as a kid’s telling him of this latest harassment. For an “abduction” I did not know of, having not watched the news, & could they arrest me? with no evidence, arrest me? & Dad’s lawyer spoke to soothe me saying what my rights were, though I should not try to leave the premises. No doubt they were waiting for a search warrant. From where I stood in my room now I could see the two of them plus another, uniformed cop in the driveway contemplating the Dodge Ram that shone so in the sun, circling it & peering into the back (I had removed the plywood partition of course & the strips of plastic from the windows) & seeing—what? Nothing. There was nothing to see. Yet they did not dare break into the van for fear, if they did discover evidence, they would have seized it illegally, & it would be of no worth.

  Dad’s lawyer said he would be over immediately, & not to speak any further to the police above all not to volunteer any information however innocent nor allow them any entry, & I told him O.K., & hung up. How much time did I have! When would they break in! First thing I did was flush NO-NAME’s gold tooth down the toilet, out of my pocket & gone forever. & the next, grabbing the formaldehyde bottle out of the locker & going next-door into the kitchen saying to two of the tenants waiting for a tea kettle to boil I was going to fumigate the kitchen, sorry they would have to step out for a few minutes for safety’s sake but the kettle could remain on the stove etc. So they went out, it was Akhil & a young Egyptian chemistry student, & I dumped BIG GUY into the kitchen sink & with a knife stabbed & cut & forced it into the garbage disposal & set the disposal going with a high grinding roar. & the formaldehyde poured down the drain, making my eyes sting & I was close to puking, & shook Dutch Cleanser into the sink & scrubbed with a steel wool pad, & after that Drano down the disposal, & into the quart bottle too, to counteract the powerful stink of the chemical, & I believe it did. & another time running the disposal, grinding up just chunks of hand soap & it was all smooth & clean & smelled of something clean. & the tea kettle was boiling & singing, so I took it off the heat, & called Akhil & his friend back, & said the fumigation was over, & I did not think they were in any danger now. Back in my room then (I could see the cops still in the driveway—FUCKERS! Wanted to yell out the window at them FUCKERS! HARASSING me & SCREWING UP my life!) tearing up the map of SQUIRREL’s bike route & the Polaroids & burnt them in my bathroom sink & washed the ashes down the drain & again scrubbed with steel wool. & downstairs in the old cellar dragged the dinette out of the cistern, & into the new cellar. Set a plastic laundry basket on it. & giant box of Tide. The ice pick & knives I brought up into the kitchen & tossed in a drawer with such utensils. & the sharp little silver pick Q__ P__ had pocketed from Dr. Fish’s office went into my medicine cabinet with toothbrush, flossing string etc., for this was the logical place & I did not wish to lose such a valuable instrument. For there were other specimens awaiting I did not doubt, & I would not be harassed & intimidated by those fuckers into surrendering my rights. The bandages, gauze, etc. went into a supply closet in the pantry, & the food & Evian water. The mirror I dragged into the new cellar & propped in a corner with some old furniture. In the mirror Q__ P__ oily-faced & sullen & his hairline God-damn receding for sure, light winking off his glasses. A responsible man makes his own luck. But I was pissed.

  A relief, Mom & Dad are up north. When they learn of this humiliation, it will be all over.

  Dad’s lawyer arrived, & not long after another squad car & the fuckers had a search warrant & could not be stopped. Two began with the Dodge Ram—I had no choice but to hand over the keys—& the rest with the house. & the lawyer stipulated that the search must be confined to certain areas only for this was a rental property & the rooms of the individual tenants are private & must not be ravaged by a search. & so they searched the CARETAKER’s quarters of course, making a mess, & all of the cellar & the attic, & the downstairs rooms, closets, etc. & FOUND NOTHING. FOR THERE WAS NOTHING TO FIND.

  That day too I was questioned about the missing boy whose name was new & unknown to me—James, or “Jamie,” Waldron. Dad’s lawyer was present of course, so my rights were protected. Because Q__ P__ knew nothing about the boy, & could only repeat & repeat a few facts. That I had done yard work at Grandma’s, from 5 P.M. until 7 P.M. & had afterward driven to Summit Park hoping to cool off & had had something to eat at McDonald’s close by & then—for it had come to me in a brainstorm, of course they would check the odometer in the new Dodge Ram & note the mileage—I had driven along the lake, & in the University Heights area, for a long time, hoping to get cool. By this time Dad’s lawyer had contacted Grandma, & Mrs. Thatch, to corroborate that I had been at Grandma’s for the hours stated, & both were adamant that this was so. Grandma said her grandson was the kindest & most thoughtful young man on earth, he visited her often & did favors not only for her but for her friends. & since the time of the boy’s abduction had been fixed between 6 P.M. when he left his place of employment & 6:40 P.M. when his bicycle was discovered abandoned in an alley a mile from his home, it could not be that Q__ P__ was in any way involved.

  There was the mystery, too, of the baby chicks in the alley. No one living nearby could identify or claim them. No one had ever seen baby chicks in such a place before. Nor were there any grown hens anywhere in the neighborhood. The detective spoke quizzically of this fact, THIRTY-SIX BABY CHICKS loose & picking in the dirt of the alley, & the missing boy’s expensive bicycle parked nearby with its kickstand down. Which suggested that he was not snatched from the bicycle, but accompanied his abductor, or whoever it was, willingly. What connection could there be between the missing boy & the baby chic
ks! Or maybe there was no connection, at all? Q__ P__ sat silent & frowning & had nothing to say, for he had no idea. The lawyer said skeptically, Maybe the boy was playing a joke, & isn’t missing. Some kind of fraternity prank.

  The detective in suit & tie sucked at his lip & said, If it is, it isn’t very funny. Is it?

  The cops were finished with their search upstairs & down, & went out. It was 12:40 P.M. I had not eaten anything since before 6 A.M., Froot Loops washed down with shitty-warm Evian water driving home on Route 31 from the Manistee Forest. From the unnamed narrow & deep & fast-flowing river where my fucked-up ZOMBIE SQUIRREL lay at the bottom naked & his throat slashed entering the water so the water bore the blood away into such an infinity it could never be traced, & his skinny body weighed down with burlap & rocks & would never rise except when the bones fall away from one another, released of flesh & identity. There would be the skull & the teeth of the skull they say you can identify—BUT COULD A SKULL FLOAT? I don’t think a skull could float, being too heavy.

  The sponge-gag, the strips of tape around his jaws I had left in place. In the end, I worked fast.

  The detective said thanks & goodbye for now & did not seem sarcastic but only tired. & out in the driveway I saw him talking with one of the younger men, in uniform. & I interrupted the lawyer who was speaking of suing for harassment if more of this ensued, & said, “Maybe—maybe I could t-talk to them, after all.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The police. Maybe I could talk to them, after all.” I was swallowing hard, my throat so dry. I did not make EYE CONTACT with Dad’s lawyer. “Just for a m-minute, by myself?”

  The lawyer was looking at Q__ P__ like he had not seen me before. & did not like what he saw. His head was the shape of a light bulb & pale & almost hairless, the hairs in thin crimped strips. He was Dad’s age & I believe a friend of Dad’s from some other time when they were all young. He said, “Are you out of your mind? Absolutely not.”

  “O.K.,” I said.

  49

  Labor Day, & a few days later. Junie called & left a message on the tape. Did I see the morning paper. What a shock—the news about Dr. M__ K__.

  Daddy will be devastated Junie said.

  Didn’t get around to listening to the message for a few days, & by that time that day’s newspaper was gone. I wasn’t even sure which day it was.

  50

  Labor Day, & the fall term starting at the University. & of our nine tenants five are new, just moving in. All of them foreign students. Graduate students in the sciences mostly. From India, China, Pakistan, Zaire, Egypt, West Indies. Dad says they make the best tenants & he is right. All dark-skinned, & polite & shy & speaking our language with care. I am Q__ P__ CARETAKER & introduced to them as such.

  I am taking my medication again as Dr. E__ prescribes. Three times daily with meals. & to help me sleep when required. You are not supposed to ingest alcohol while on lithium but that has not been a problem for me. The purpose is to maintain emotional equilibrium as Dr. E__ says.

  Feeling low lately. Since GROUND ZERO etc. Bummed. But don’t think of it, & the medication helps. That is its purpose. & no point in blaming others, like Dad or Grandma. (I have stopped yard work at Grandma’s house for the indefinite future. & driving Grandma around like a taxi service. Fuck that grandson crap. It only gets you into trouble.)

  Jean-Paul from the West Indies, white shirt & a wild Afro, shorts, sandals, muscled oxblood-shining calves. Came up to Q__ P__ at Burger King & said hello, so friendly. Grad student with a fellowship in economics. So quick & friendly I could not prevent EYE CONTACT. But it will not be repeated.

  Nor any of them beneath this roof. I never think of it.

  51

  Mon. 4:00 P.M.-4:50 P.M. Mt. Vernon Medical Center on the other side of the campus, in good weather I walk & in bad weather drive the Dodge Ram. Dr. E__ says Well, Quentin. This brisk autumn air is a tonic isn’t it. After our long hot summer.

  There is a double meaning in this I know. Summer the time of Q__ P__’s harassment & humiliation by Mt. Vernon Police Department. But I smile & say YES DOCTOR. NO DOCTOR. Sit & smile & my hair cut & parted in a new way. Dad’s lawyer requested reports to the Michigan Probation Department & so it is known by us that Dr. E__’s prognosis of his patient Q__ P__ is “very good.” Q__ P__ is “definitely making progress.”

  Still it is awkward in Dr. E__’s office. I sit across from his desk & stare at the floor. Or at my hands I have scrubbed. RAISINEYES’ wristwatch on my left arm & its bronze face secret where I watch the tiny numerals flashing bronze. & around my right wrist my solitary memento of SQUIRREL.

  Dr. E__ asks do I have any dreams to speak of today. There is a flurry of leaves against the window behind him & the sky is darkening so early. I sit & frown & an oily sweat on my forehead & upper lip & there is a long silence. Then I say, A dream of being in some water. & Dr. E__ says Yes? What of it? & I can’t think of more & he says encouraging me like you would encourage a little child to speak, Are you swimming in this water, Quentin? & I shake my head saying, I don’t think so, maybe I am just in the water. & the water hides me & carries me along. & Dr. E__ says, & what happens in your dream, Quentin? & I say, I don’t know. I’m just there.

  There is peace too in Dr. E__’s office. You can take comfort in. Dad & Mom are pleased with their son’s prognosis & hope that I will continue with Dr. E__ after my probation is over. Junie too has said in that stern solid way of hers there is definitely an improvement in Quen.

  At last it is 4:49 P.M. Dr. E__ writes out a refill for my prescription. Asks if I have anything to ask him & I can’t think of anything & THANK YOU DOCTOR & the session is over.

  52

  For all that has happened, has happened. From the beginning of Time. I accept this.

  Alternate Thursdays 10 A.M. Mr. T__ my probation officer. Tues. 7 P.M.-8:30 P.M. group therapy with Dr. B__. Mon. & Thurs. trash pick-up. Dragging the yellow plastic trash pails out to the curb.

  There is a change in my life: I am no longer enrolled at Dale Tech but have transferred to University Extension (downtown Mt. Vernon campus). INTRO TO ACCOUNTING Mon. & Wed. 7 P.M.-8:20 P.M. Because R__ P__ is on the University faculty my tuition is only $200. I am paying for it myself.

  A new drive-through McDonald’s is opening on Third St. just two blocks from 118 North Church. Bright yellow banners flapping in the wind & SPECIAL BIG MAC COUPONS to early customers. A glimpse of Jean-Paul in one of the booths with a woman, I think. Light-skinned & Jean-Paul is that deep russet-black. But I did not see clearly. I was not looking, & was not seen.

  53

  A true ZOMBIE would be mine forever. He would obey every command & whim. Saying “Yes, Master” & “No, Master.” He would kneel before me lifting his eyes to me saying, “I love you, Master. There is no one but you, Master.”

  & so it would come to pass, & so it would be. For a true ZOMBIE could not say a thing that was not, only a thing that was. His eyes would be open & clear but there would be nothing inside them seeing. & nothing behind them thinking. Nothing passing judgment.

  Nor would there be terror in my ZOMBIE’s eyes. Nor memory. For without memory there is no terror.

  A ZOMBIE would pass no judgment of course. A ZOMBIE would say, “God bless you, Master.” He would say, “You are good, Master. You are kind & merciful.” He would say, “Fuck me in the ass, Master, until I bleed blue guts.” He would beg for his food & he would beg for oxygen to breathe. He would be respectful at all times. He would lick with his tongue as bidden. He would suck with his mouth as bidden. He would spread the cheeks of his ass as bidden. He would cuddle like a teddy bear as bidden. He would rest his head on my shoulder like a baby. Or I would rest my head on his shoulder like a baby. We would lie beneath the covers in my bed in the CARETAKER’s room listening to the November wind & the bells of the Music College tower chiming & WE WOULD COUNT THE CHIMES UNTIL WE FELL ASLEEP AT EXACTLY THE SAME MOMENT.

  54

  Junie said,
Don’t speak of it to Dad. His heart is broken.

  & Mom said, Your father has aged twenty years! But when you see him, don’t let on.

  The news did not seem important to me, no more than most news you see on TV or read in the paper. It was in fact news of long ago. & Dr. M__ K__ dead & spared any trouble. NOBEL LAUREATE FOUND TO HAVE LED RADIATION EXPERIMENTS 1953–1957. COMPARED TO “NAZI” DOCTORS.

  I saw the photo of white-haired Dr. K__ Dad’s old mentor at the Washington Institute & read of the scandal as they called it in the media. Dr. K__ had led a team of scientists who engaged in secret experiments for the Atomic Energy Commission. In one experiment, radioactive milk was fed to thirty-six mentally retarded children at a school in Bethesda, Maryland. In another, the testicles of prisoners at several Virginia universities were exposed to “ionizing radiation.” Why this old news was revealed now so many years later & why people pretended to give a fuck, I don’t know. But I had to laugh.

  Lucky for Dad & Mom they were still on Mackinac Island when the scandal broke. Newspapers & TV & People & Time etc. Dad was spared the embarrassment of interviewers telephoning him & asking for a statement. Later he went on record saying It is an unconscionable act to experiment on any person without informed consent but I knew Dr. K__ & I am unable to believe that he is guilty of such. There must be some mistake. In private saying So unfair to a dead man! Dad removing his glasses & rubbing his hands over his eyes. & his tweed asshole mouth screwed up in pain. A great man’s reputation slandered posthumously, how can he defend himself!