“What was your name?”
“Oh, I can’t seem to remember.”
Moses leaned closer into him. “What? You’re afraid to tell me?”
“There is a fine line between courage and stupidity.”
“And a finer line between semantics and a cowardly lie.”
“Good. Good.” They locked stares. “You are thinking you are not me, not like me — that you are better than me. You’re clever but also a fool. You cannot escape being of my blood, just as I can disown but not dismiss you. I tried when you got sick. I chose not to save you.”
This time, Moses could not resist reacting. “You didn’t care if I died?”
“You were already dead to me.”
“Not so dead that you didn’t track my life. My whereabouts.”
“When I lived in America, a Negro baseball player was famous for saying, ‘Don’t look back, something may be gaining on you.’ His proposition is correct, but his conclusion indicated inferior thinking. Something is gaining on you, and you must look back to make sure it doesn’t catch you. If it does, you must be ready.”
“I’ve caught you now. Do your other children know about your past?’
“They know me as a good father and a provider. You saw her affection for me.”
Indeed, he had. “You’re so sure I won’t expose your lies to them.”
“You’d consider it ignoble.”
Teumer had calculated correctly. Moses knew that the momentary thrill of causing his father embarrassment, if that were even possible, would solve nothing.
“What if I tell some Nazi hunters or official organizations?”
“The U.S. government does not want me or others like me exposed. You know that. You’re a historian.”
Moses nodded. He was well aware that the Reagan administration had put a stop to all pursuits of former Nazis living in the United States, and the policy remained in force.
“And I have been and will remain well protected here.”
“Protected from others, perhaps. I’ve always wondered how cold-blooded murderers like you live with yourselves.”
“What some call murder, others call natural selection. Don’t scoff. Nature is a slow process of weeding out the weak. We sped up the process by selecting, in a most humane manner, those who over time nature would have eliminated. The weak must not inherit the earth or humanity will face extinction. We came close but were thwarted … for now. History is still on our side. As for my decision with you, modern medicine should only be used upon the sacred few. For the rest … let nature decide.”
Moses shook his head. This man exulted in evils large and small, in the fastidiousness of the crematoriums and the personal cruelties perpetrated against himself and his mom. Moses had heard and seen enough. He stood up. “Even before I got your letter and found out about your monstrous life, I swore to myself not to behave like the emotional coward that you are.” He winced ever so slightly at the thought of Jay and how he had behaved like a graceless coward. No, he couldn’t punish himself right then. “I am so glad we finally met.”
Moses moved closer. Teumer stared up at him, wetting his bloodless aged lips with his tongue. Moses picked up the envelope and took out the photo of his parents. He stared at it once more and placed it between his fingers as if he were going to rip it in half. “I don’t have any need for this.” He hesitated and dropped it on the table. “I’ll let myself out.”
Moses’s invisible angel of torment had been transformed — not into a smiling seraph of lightness but a declawed demon. The ever-changing past once again became new, a future filled with possibilities of forgiveness or bitterness, compassion or heartlessness. The choice would not be easy, but it would be his.
BOOK THREE
The only consolation would be:
it happens whether you like or no.
And what you like is of infinitesimally little help.
More than consolation is: You too have weapons.
48 THE SONGS OF SALOME
Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy
I’ve made an effort to tell my story in a linear fashion. Now this fallacious narrative of time has been undone by Mr. Parnell Palmer, government lackey, investigator for the Committee on Anti-American Activities. He showed up yesterday to “inquire” about the night of Alchemy’s death. He claimed he wanted to issue a report stating once and for all his death was an accident and to squash all the “vicious rumors.”
We met in Bellows’s office. Palmer’s unmowed-lawn eyebrows, tiny nose, lizardy neck, and bald head intrigued me. I sketched him while we talked. He eyed Dr. Bellows, who shook her head as if to say, “Let her do it.” Until now, I refused to meet with any “official.” What can they do? Lock me up? Ha. Palmer enticed me with the possibility of a visit from Persephone.
With more than a hint of incredulity, Palmer began by asking why my nurse had been off that night. I told him I had no authority to dismiss anyone, so I assumed Alchemy or Laluna gave her the night off because of the Super Bowl party. No denying that Alchemy and I argued earlier that day over Laluna’s refusal to allow me to care for Persephone when they went on vacation. From the first, my relationship with Laluna had waned and waned farther. I wanted a grandchild, but I’d correctly sniffed her lack of enthusiasm for motherhood.
Palmer kept pushing me to defend my absence from the party. Reason seemed to bounce off his bald head. He couldn’t understand why I always refused to attend that celebration of modern slavery and violence. I told him that I didn’t leave my cottage or studio until later that night, when it was already too late. That was true in all meanings of truth.
“At times you have said that you and Mindswallow were both at your cottage when you heard Moses, Laluna, and Alchemy arguing. At other times you claimed you weren’t sure where Mindswallow was. Which is it?”
“The answer is both. I heard bursts of their yelling when he banged on my door, while he was there. I’d taken some pills and was lost in drowsyland when Ambitious showed up. I’m sure he told you what happened. Why do you need me to confirm it? For all of his inverted thinking, he is not a liar. Nor, as he fancies himself, is he a killer.”
“You have called yourself ‘a homicider’?”
“What are you insinuating?”
“Well, first there was the ‘performance’ with Art Lemczek, then the incident where you stabbed Laban Lively with box cutters. And isn’t it true you tried to burn Nathaniel by setting the house in Charlottesville on fire?”
“Exactly the opposite. A well-trained Pavlovian mind like yours is conditioned to bite only your enemies. I bite my loved ones — to save them. With his blessing, I saved Art from an arduous, painful death. That wasn’t homicide. And I acted to save Nathaniel from himself.”
“By setting a fire outside his locked room? Unique concept. Killing or trying to kill friends and loved ones. Perhaps you thought you were saving your son the nigh—”
I chomped at his hand. He flinched. “I also bite my enemies.”
“And Moses was your enemy. Isn’t that why you told Malcolm Teumer you wished your son Moses had died?”
“How do you know that? Malcolm Teumer was a liar. That’s not what I meant.”
“Maybe, but”—he pointed to Bellows’s computer—“I can arrange it so you can listen to yourself anytime.”
“You were taping my conversations? Or Teumer’s? No matter what you want to believe, I did not kill my son. I’m done.” I stood up and showed him the drawing — his eyebrows as tiny leeches eating away his face.