PATTY CAKE - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Dylan picked up the card and held it open. He licked his lips as if he were going to read aloud but didn’t.

After he read it, he thought, There is no way that I’m going to show this to Peter. And for just a moment he was going to squash into a ball and hide it in a pocket of one of his jackets. He paused and turned his head in the direction of the bedroom. We agreed not to do that. If there are warnings in these fucking verses, then we both need to know them if only to be on our guard.

Dylan slipped into his office and made a copy of the verse. I’ll share it in the morning. I don’t think it will make breakfast particularly digestible, but there you go.

* * *

The men rose early to get ready for work. Once they were sitting at the table having coffee and eating yogurt, cherry for Dylan, and key lime for Peter, Dylan pulled the two copies out of his pocket.

“This came last night in the mail,” he said, waving the original, “I made a copy.” He handed the copy to Peter who read silently.

Patty Cake, Patty Cake, Revenge has a price, Suffering and Torture aren’t very nice. Spread the hate around until the world has learned. What you once discarded is also what you’ve earned.

“It isn’t very hard to understand,” Peter said. “Somebody, or some persons, were tortured and as a result they want revenge.”

Dylan nodded, “That’s what I got.”

“There’s also a threat in the last line,” Peter said. “It sounds like the old parable about past sins ‘coming home to roost.’ Am I supposed to have committed some terrible sin in the past?”

“You’re forgetting,” Dylan said. “This Patty Cake didn’t get delivered to you. It was in my mailbox.”

“Only because IT know I’m here.”

“IT? What IT? “

“You know what IT,” Peter said. “The same IT that made my neck bleed. The same IT that stared at you in the Emergency Waiting Room. The same IT that stared at me as a woman when I was being wheeled toward your car. The IT under the stairs.”

Peter got up. “I like Stephen King. I love Tolkien and Lovecraft and L. Frank Baum. I’m crazy about Harry Potter, but I never expected anything out of the ordinary to happen to me. But it’s happening, and it’s affecting both of us, because I’m here with you.”

“So, what is that supposed to mean?”

Peter took his half-finished yogurt container and walked to the sink. The garbage was under it in two neat pails, one for recycling and one for land fill. Peter was usually thoughtful about where he put wastes, but he just tossed the yogurt into the least full bin. “I’m afraid for you,” Peter said.

Dylan got up and took Peter by his arms. “I don’t want to hear that. There’s no you and me. There’s just US. That’s the way that I see our relationship. What happens to one of us, involves both of us. Whatever the hell is going on…”

“Hell!” Peter repeated with a sour laugh.

“Whatever the hell is going on!” Dylan repeated, his voice louder than Peter’s. “You’re not facing it alone and that’s not a debate, Peter. It’s not!”

The kitchen was silent. For a moment the two men stared at each other. Dylan’s face was a mask of firm resolution. Peter’s face seemed to mirror his, but then he leaned into Dylan’s arms. “I’m sorry,” Peter said. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you because of me.”

“If anything happens to me, it won’t be because of you. We just need to find out who or what is doing this.”

Peter nodded against Dylan’s shoulder and stood upright. “You’re right,” he said. “We’d better get a move on, or we’ll both be late for work.”

Once again, Dylan drove Peter to get his car. Before Peter got out of his car, Dylan took his arm and said, “I don’t want you to hesitate to call me if any more of this Patty Cake crap happens. I don’t care if it’s another rhyme, someone staring at you, or anything that makes your alarm bells go off, call me. If I’m in court, they’ll let me know and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” He let go of Peter’s arm and Peter opened the door. Once again, Dylan grabbed hold. “Wait. Listen. If something happens that makes you feel, in any way, in danger, call me and say to whoever answers that this message is RED. I’ll alert people on my end, and they’ll know what to do. Okay.?”

Peter smiled and nodded, but Dylan didn’t let go yet.

“I mean it, Peter.” He thought for a moment, “Swear on Jesus.”

Peter turned pale. If Peter said those words, his Catholic upbringing would not let him lie. He breathed deeply for three breaths and said, “I swear on Jesus.” and crossed himself.

“Zei gezunt,” grinned Dylan, “it’s Yiddish. It’s a wish for good health, but it’s not exactly translatable. It’s broader than that and takes in a lot of territory. So don’t forget.”

Peter gave an internal chuckle and said, “I’ve always meant to ask you. How does a Jewish guy get a waspy last name like Cooper?”

Dylan’s lips puckered and his mouth gave a sideways smirk. “Ellis Island, God bless ‘em, that’s what they took from Kupfer.” Then Dylan got serious, “Don’t forget?!” he said.

“I won’t. I promised, remember?”

Peter got out and closed the door. Dylan pushed a button, and the passenger window slid down. “Have a great day. Love you.”

“I love you too,” Peter said, and was surprised to realize, as he went into the parking garage, that he hadn’t felt the need to look around to see if anyone had heard him say that to another man.

Peter’s morning was wonderfully calm. He got a chance to check all his emails and greet incoming teachers before he hurried to the front of the school to welcome the kids.

Mary had come in and greeted him as he headed out to the arrivals. “Have fun. I know this is one of the favorite parts of your day.”

“Thanks. It is and so is having you outside my office.”

Mary twinkled and Peter smiled as he hurried to greet the kids.

A plus was Helen Shaeffer stopping by with a very happy face to say, “You’ve ignited a write explosion in my class. The other children heard that Sybil and Donna got to read you their Patty Cake, and now everyone is trying to write one for you. I thought I’d wait until they were all done and then we’ll tell Mary, and she’s slot you in for a visit and a reading.”

Peter grinned. So, Patty Cake has at least one positive. “That sounds just great Thank you Helen.”

Peter’s spirits were high. He had long found that it took little to raise his spirits and just as little to make them sag. But it was great to be high after so many recent lows.

When arrivals were over, Peter walked back to his office and found himself particularly aware of the beauty of The Enchanted Book Forest plus all the areas that were class planting sites and the results of their effort. The air was brisk with that leaf mold smell that always came with autumn; he loved it. Autumn was his favorite season.

He walked into his office prepared to tell Mary all about Helen’s class, but she came toward him with a smile and a gift-wrapped box. She held it out to him.

“What is this?”

“Dave brought it up. He said someone’s grandmother dropped it off and then left,” she told him it was a present for you.”

“Come into my inner chamber and we’ll see what it is.”

Peter put the box on his desk and took a scissor from the Disneyland mug he used for his pencils, pens and scissor.

“I wonder whose grandmother it was,” Peter said, as he looked at the wrapping for a card. “Nope. No card. Only your name written in Marker on the wrapping paper. Maybe it’s under the wrapping paper.”

He cut the paper away and neatly deposited it in his trash can. Under the wrapping was a plain white box with a logo on one side. It was a picture of a bottle of cologne that said Fragrance Du Hommes.

Peter’s jaw dropped. “Oh no. This is crazy. He opened the box and inside was a bottle exactly like the one in the picture on the box. “Mary, this stuff is $400 to $600 a tiny bottle. Who would give this to me?”

“What are you so surprised about. They all love you. It’s probably some adoringly rich grandma who grandchildren are happy and love you, so she’s showing her gratitude.”

“Do you want to smell it?” Peter said.

“Of course! Go on and open it.”

Peter studied the bottle. He’d seen this cologne in some fancy mall stores but had never owned a bottle. In truth, he never used cologne and seldom used after shave lotion. He fiddled with it until, Mary said. “I think you turn it upside down, press down on the big wide stopper on the top, and a drop lands in your palm.”

Peter inverted the bottle and tried to do what Mary said. “This is a little clumsy. You must hold it and push the top down at the same time…Oops!”

He had the bottle upside down, but before he could get his hand under it, the top pulled down and a drop fell on his desk.

“GET BACK!” Peter said, pulled Mary away from his desk with one hand.

Mary had given a tiny scream, but Peter didn’t hear it. He was completely focused on his desk. A terrible smell had filled the office. It was so acrid that it made his eyes tear, and their nostrils burn. Peter’s windows were opened, but it hardly helped.

That wasn’t all that burned. The single drop of ‘cologne’ and instantly burned a hole through the top of his desk. The top had an edge that was several inches larger that the body of the desk it sat on. Helen and Mary saw that in a matter of seconds the contents of the expensive cologne bottle had not only burned through the desk but was burning through the floor.

“Shit!” Peter said, “The kids locker room is just underneath. It’s first period. The fifth graders have P.E.”

Peter dashed from the office and headed for the staircase that led down to the locker room below. Then he stopped. Across the hallway, the gymnasium was filled with students laughing. Peter hurried across the hall and through the doors. One of the P.E. teachers, Gale Siegel hurried over to him. “Hi, Peter, did you need anyone?”

“Are all the kids out of the locker room?” he asked.

“Yeah. We took attendance already.”

Peter saw that the children hadn’t changed into their shorts.

“They didn’t change today?”

“No,” Gale said, “It’s a bit chilly and we’re taking them out to the field for soccer practice.”

Peter caught himself before he said what he was thinking, Thank God! “Gale, I’m just about to shut the locker room for safety sake. There may be a leak down there, so I’m going to lock it up.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

Peter tried to smile, shook his head and, “No, just wanted to tell you and make sure there were no kids down there.” He moved, without racing, as he felt like doing, out of the gym and down to the locker room. The door to the locker room was, Thank goodness, still locked. Peter took out his keys and slowly opened the door. I have no idea whether that acid went this far, he thought.

He peered around the door and looked up at the ceiling. At first, he didn’t see anything, but then he heard it. There was a distinct sound Plink! Plink! Plink! Peter had a walkie talkie unit so he could communicate with the offices on the campus with ease, but he’d left it on his desk. But I’ve got my cell phone.

He called Mary and asked her to contact Milo who was head of the campus maintenance and ask him to come down to the locker room.

Peter moved into the room, looking up to be sure he wasn’t standing under any leak. Now that he was in the room, the dripping sound was louder, and the smell of the acid was quickly filling the air. Peter took out his handkerchief and held it over his nose. Shit! It didn’t do anything by make it harder for him to breathe.

He heard the dripping sound again and this time he caught a glimpse of it. It was directly over one of the rows of lockers. Peter hit the switch that turned on all the overhead lights and saw exactly where the acid drip was.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Peter jumped.

“Sorry, Pete. Didn’t mean to startle you,” said Milo.

“Don’t be sorry; it’s just that it’s been a crazy morning.” He explained about the mysterious ‘present’ and its contents.

“Only one drop fell on my desk, and it burned all the way through the floor.” He pointed to the lockers. “It’s over there.” Milo moved forward, but Peter grabbed his arm. “No. Don’t! I think that stuff is dangerous. I’m going to call the police. What I need you to do is close off the locker room area with some of that yellow tape, the cones and some signage. Nothing scary.”

“How about ‘Temporarily Closed for Repairs."“

“Perfect,” said Peter. “I’ll lock the room up and wait till you bring the sign. Meantime, I’ll ask Mary to call the police.”

“I’ll be back in about five minutes,” Milo said and hurried out of the room.

Peter stayed just long enough to contact Mary and ask her to call the local precinct. “We don’t want to frighten the kids,” Peter said, “so please tell the police to park on the campus and if kids ask them anything to just say that they’re paying a visit. They’ll understand, we’ve had them here before. Also tell them about the acid and what it’s done so far. It burned through the ceiling in the locker room, so it is very strong stuff.”

Peter was only off the phone with Mary for a few minutes when Milo returned with his assistant, Carlos.

“Hi, Carlos,” Peter said. “Is it okay if I leave you guys. We’ve called the police, and I don’t know how soon they’ll get here. Just please don’t do anything that can get you hurt. We don’t know what that acid is or how strong it is. If it burned through my desk and the floor, it will no trouble burning through flesh.”

When Peter got upstairs, his walkie talkie was blinging. He picked it up. “Peter, it’s Dave in security. We have two officers here to see you. Shall I bring them up.”

“Yes, please do, Dave. Thank you.”

“Right, sir.” the walkie talkie was silent.

Peter was nervous about the arrival of the police. He wondered if they could do anything about the acid or whether they would assemble a team of hazmat-suited people coming to the campus and telling him to evacuate while they covered the building with a protective plastic envelope. Should he be calling the Head’s office at this point. No. Don’t jump. Let’s first wait and see what the police say. Then I’ll call her and have a full story.

Peter stood in the outer office to greet the police. Mary said, “Are you going to call Lydia? I think she’d want to know about police on the campus.”

“I’m going to call her after we see what the police are going to do. Then I’ll have a full story to share. I think we need to first find out how much damage we’ve got.” The sound of voices coming toward the office ended the conversation.

Dave entered with three police, two men and a woman.

“These are officers, Parker, DeMarco and Vincent,” David pointed at each. DeMarco was the woman.

“Thank you, Dave. Would you all like to come into my office. Dave, do you want to join us for a minute, or do you have to get back to your kiosk?”

“I’d better get back. I’ll drop by when maintenance covers me for my lunch.”

“Great,” Peter said, “Please come in officers.”

Peter showed them the unlabeled box, the bottle that had been inside and the holes in the desk and floor. They had stopped smoking, but the smell was still in the air.

“You certainly got some surprise present, Mr. McDonnell,” Office Parker said.

Officer Vincent had a large container in his hand. “That is some strong stuff you got as a gift, but this container is made of polyethylene, fluorocarbon plastic. It shouldn’t have any trouble with your acid.” Officer Vincent put on gloves and unhooked metal tongs he had hooked to his belt. Once gloved, he used the clamps to pick up the stopper, put it into the faux bottle of cologne and place it inside the container.

Officer Parker asked what was below the office. Peter told about the locker room and how he knew it leaked through, but that he didn’t know whether it had eaten through a locker or not. Officer Parker asked Officer Vincent to go down and check it out. “Once Officer Vincent has had a chance to look at the lockers, we’ll decide what the next move is.”

“Here’s the key,” to the Locker room,” Peter said. “When you go downstairs, it’s the only room.”

Officer Vincent took the key and left.

“Why don’t you close your office door, Mr. McDonnell so we can talk about this gift.” Officer Parker said. Peter closed the door, and the officers sat on the couch with Peter sitting opposite them. Officer DeMarco took out an electronic pad and stylus.

“Do you have any idea why someone might do this to you.” Parker asked. “Have you received any other threatening items?”

Peter told them about the Patty Cake verses. Parker asks if he has them.

“Yes, I’ve printed them out.” Peter got up and took the paper from his backpack and handed it to the Officer. “You can keep it; I have copies on my laptop.”

The Officers wanted to know now how each of the verses had arrived. Peter told them about all of them. He didn’t say that they’d been branded into Dylan’s doors. He suggested that they’d been left on the door.

“And Dylan is…?” Officer Parker asked.

“A good friend,” Peter said.

“Might he have any reason to send you any of these verses?” Parker asked.

“On no. We’re very close friends, and he was with me when one of the verses arrived.” He told them about the one left in Dylan’s mailbox.

Office Parker raised an eyebrow. “That’s interesting.”

“Believe me, it has nothing to do with Dylan,” Peter said quickly.

“Is there anyone, think carefully, anyone at all who might send you these verses or this box of acid?”

Peter thought of Jim Kellin immediately, but if he said his name and the police spoke to him, Kellin would go off the deep end. Besides, how could Kellin have done some of the things that had happened. “No one comes to mind,” Peter said, “but I’ll give it some real thought and get back to you if I do think of someone.”

There was a knock at Peter’s office door, and Officer Vincent entered. “How much damage is there?” Office Parker asked.

It came through the floor but when it hit the top of the locker below, it had lost its potency, there isn’t a hole in the locker. I got a ladder from your maintenance guy and checked.

“What about if a kid puts his hand on top?” Peter asked.

Officer Vincent shook his head, “I put my hand on top after checking it out.”

“But that was still very serious stuff,” Parker said. “If you’d splashed that cologne onto your hands, your secretary wouldn’t have had to call us. We’d have heard you. Let’s sit down again for a minute.”

Once they were seated, Parker continued, “Do you get a lot of packages?”

Peter shook his head. “Not ones without an address and a name attached.

Parker thought a minute, “If you get any packages at all, put them aside and bring them to the precinct. You have our address?”

Peter nodded.

“Good. Bring it to us and let us open it. It’s worth the trouble to be safe.”

“Thank you, I agree.”

“When we get back to the station, we’ll check and see if there have been any other incidents of people receiving cologne that turned out to be acid or anything similar. We’ll also check to see if anyone else has reported any poems like the ones you showed us.”

“That would be interesting to find out,” Peter said. “I’ve been thinking that I was the only person getting it.”

“You might be, but we’ll find out. Do you mind if we check in with you periodically?

“No. Not at all. Thank you.”

The police left and Mary came over to Peter to find out what happened. He told her and then excused himself to call Lydia Jameson, the Head of the School.

The conversation with Lydia was long as she wanted details. Peter could tell that she was concerned about what would have happened if students had been affected by the event. “Are you sure that there isn’t anyone you can think of who might be angry about their child or something you said?”

Peter felt his back go up. He didn’t think he ever said anything to a child or parent that could turn into the gift of acid.

“No. I don’t believe so, but this could be anyone. It might not be a person related to the school. It might just be some sick character who sends this thing out. The Police are going to check other see if this or any other dangerous gift has been sent to another school.”

Lydia made a thinking sound. “I’m wondering if we should or shouldn’t send this to the parent body. It’s bound to cause a stir if we do, and it could be criticized if we don’t. What do you think?”

“I generally think that honesty is the best policy. I’d write to the parents and say that I received a box sent to me and its contents, and how the police took care of it and are checking to see if they’ve had any reports about other such packages.”

“I think that’s the right thing to do, and we’ll just have to deal with the aftermath. Most parents will just be very concerned about your safety.” She paused and then quietly said. “I hope I’m not out of line here, Peter, but do you think that some deranged person might be targeting you because of your lifestyle.”

“My lifestyle?”

There was another pause and Lydia lowered her voice. “There are some sick people out there that might have decided to target you if they think that you’re a gay man.”

Peter felt as if all the oxygen had suddenly been sucked out of the room. A combination of feelings shot through him in a kaleidoscope of emotions: shock, embarrassment, distress and…he was surprised at a final feeling; it was relief.

“I live in Manhattan, and I’ve seen you with a very handsome friend. I don’t know his name, but he lives not far from you. I’ve seen you two several times and I know that some parents and board members have too. It may surprise you, but everyone in Manhattan talks about who is with whom a lot of the time whether they’re gay or straight or undecided. I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable. As far as I know it doesn’t make anyone else uncomfortable. And I really hope we haven’t been jumping to conclusions. He might be your brother or cousin or just a good friend.”

Peter took the deepest breath he could remember ever taking, This is the moment, he decided. “No, he’s not a relative. We’re very close,” he said. “His name is Dylan Cooper; he’s a lawyer. I’ve kept a separate apartment for a long time, but he owns a brownstone, and he’s asked me to move in with him; I’m going to.”

They spoke for a short time after that. Peter was surprised, relieved and deeply appreciative of Lydia’s repeated assurances of her support.

Slightly trembling, Peter looked at his watch, grabbed his materials and rushed to his fourth-grade class. I’ll work on the letter after dismissal, he thought, but he was already - as so often happened - composing it as he rushed to his waiting children.

Peter’s students were reading a slightly abridged version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and acting it out. Today they were looking back at the songs in the play and scanning them for rhyme and meter, but the best part of the period was when the kids took parts and started acting out the next scene. Today it was the scene where Titania wakes up under the spell of the magic flower and falls in love with Bottom the tailor enchanted by Puck and now wearing the head of a donkey. Both Peter, and the kids, were hysterical watching their classmates do the scene.

Back at his office, Peter is greeted by Mary who says, “Can you take a minute and hear Sybil and Donna’s verse they wrote for you?”

“Of course.”

Mary went to the girls who came in very excited and flushed. Peter sat on the couch in the outer office and the girls stood in front of him and began:

“Patty Cake, Patty Cake, Chocolate and vanilla shake, Devil Dogs, cupcakes, donuts and twinkies, Make our bodies tingle to the tips of our pinkies”

Peter clapped loudly as did Mary.

“That was wonderful,” Mary Said.

“It was clever, and I love your rhymes. They are excellent and not forced. Do you think I could have a copy to hang in my office? Are your names on it.? This way when I have a guest, I can share your wonderful Patty Cake.”

“We’ll make it nice on colored paper, Mr. McDonnell,” Sybil said,

“And we can do the rhyming verses in the same color,” Donna added.

The buzzer sounded for dismissal and the two girls, blushing deeply, hurried to give Peter a hug before returning to their classes.

“So darling,” Mary said.

“They’re pretty great aren’t they,” Peter said. He put his teaching materials on his desk and hurried to dismissal.

When he came back, Mary was clearing her desk, “Do you need me for anything?” she asked.

Peter thought of the letter to the parents, but he could tell that Mary was in an unusual hurry to leave.

“No, go ahead.”

“You know I’m usually here for another hour, but Ron is taking me out to dinner, and I want to go home and change.”

“Have a wonderful time. If it’s a good restaurant tell me about it tomorrow.”

“I will, “Mary said. “It’s an Italian place in little Italy that’s supposed to be good. I’ll try to get a copy of the menu.”

Peter grinned, “Have a great time and say ‘hi’ to Ron for me.”

When Peter returned from dismissal, Rosalyn Vega was emptying Peter’s office garbage into her black bag. “If you’re leaving Mr. McDonnell, I can dust and vacuum your office.”

“Can you give me another hour and a half for that, Mrs. Vega? I need to type a letter.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll do the rest of the floor and come back to you at the end. If you’re not ready,” she shrugged, “then I’ll do the second floor and come back after that.”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” Peter said.

Mrs. Vega smiled and left.

Peter settled in his office and prepared to write his letter, which was almost fully formed in his mind, and then try to leave early. He would leave his emails for when he was home with Dylan. He remembered that they were going to cook dinner and quickly texted Dylan to ask what groceries he could pick up and suggested roasted chicken thighs and drumsticks for the main dish and a crisp salad to cleanse the palate and then fruit salad for dessert.

Dylan sent a thumbs up, so Peter knew he was busy. Peter wrote a list of what he had to buy and then something white caught his peripheral vision. He saw that Mrs. Vega had missed one folded piece of paper in his trash. It was one piece of paper that looked almost liked a note card or a greeting card. What’s that? Peter leaned down and picked it from the waste basket. He spread it flat in his hand. There was one word written on it, Faaagutttt!!

Without thinking whether this might be something to save for the police, Peter was so shocked that he just tore it until it was only tiny pieces. Then he carried it to teacher’s bathroom in the hall and flushed them down the toilet praying that it wouldn’t create a clog.

As he stood there, he thought about Jim Kellen. He thought about the man’s behavior in his office. He had been pretty much out of control. But then, in the Enchanted Book Forest, he’d apologized. Still, there was so much about Kellen that felt ‘off.’ The way he manipulated his class and the members of the Teachers Union. Why was he always on his computer? It didn’t seem, at least not from what Peter had seen that he was creating lessons for his Smart Board. I don’t remember ever seeing him use that except to show some cartoonish schoolhouse rock sort of thing that doesn’t even go with the grade level he’s teaching. Could Jim have slipped into his office and put the note in the trash can? When had he done it? How would he know that I’d even find it.? Why didn’t it go in Rosalyn Vega’s garbage bag? She didn’t leave it there, he was certain. And the way the word was written. Read aloud it would sound very much like the voice he’d heard coming out of the Enchanted Book Forest. Right after his encounter with Jim Kellen.

Peter began to wonder if he’d done right thing by not mentioning Jim to the police. It doesn’t matter. I can always call them if I want to do that.

He wished Mary hadn’t left early, because he could casually ask her if Jim had dropped by. Unless she’d been in the lady’s room, Mary wouldn’t miss anyone moving in the direction of his office.

He returned there now and sat at his computer. The letter. I was going to write the letter to the parents about the acid.

The letter took less than thirty minutes to write and edit. He would ask Lydia if he should email it to the parents or put out a formal mailing. It could also be backpacked, but he vetoed the idea the second he’d thought of it. Not in the children’s hands.

* * *

While Peter drove home, his mind felt overwhelmed with all that had happened. It seems impossible that it all happened in a single day, he thought. The acid. Who the hell could have sent that? If it’s Jim Kellen, then he’s a dangerous lunatic. If it is Kellen, then he’s got to be reported. I heard that strange voice saying ‘that’ word when I left Jim and that’s the word in my garbage. It’s too damn coincidental.

When Peter reached the Cross Bronx Expressway, he was seventy-five percent sure he would call the police and then go to the precinct himself to tell them of his suspicions.

You know that moment when you have suffered over something bad that seems to take over your whole body and then suddenly your mind wanders and the bad feelings you were having just stop, as if your nerves have overshot their charge over that issue and you find yourself calm and relieved. It was then that Peter remembered his discussion with Lydia and his admission that he was moving in with Daryl. The most important thing was that she had known, or suspected, he was gay for some time and so had some number of parents. Peter had thought he had been so discrete. He gave a silent chuckle. Was it possible to be discrete in Manhattan?

Peter parked his car in the garage and talked to the manager about monthly parking. Once that tidy sum was agreed upon, Peter headed down the street, list in hand, to buy the groceries. He loved Daryl’s block with its row of brownstones looking so perfect with lights in the windows and glimpses of bookcases or heads moving about. It was so different from his apartment, almost like moving from the city to the suburbs all within the city.

What?!

Peter was almost to the corner where the so-convenient grocery store was, when he saw her. She was crouching behind a beautifully fashioned wrought iron gate that kept the public from one of the brownstones. It was one of those homes that had steps leading down to an apartment in what would otherwise be the basement or, perhaps, a playroom for the brownstone. In the shadows of that staircase crouched a figure. There was very little light to see it clearly, but the way it stared out at him, those large, bright eyes and the glimpses of large teeth below. It was the woman he’d seen under the stairs at his building. He half expected her to start climbing up the wall of the brownstone and stood frozen in terrible anticipation of such a scene. But, instead, she slipped further down the stairs and disappeared.

Peter stood still, fixed on the spot where he’d seen her, afraid that if he looked away-even for a second- she would do something shocking. She would leap out at him or scream as she had done before. Or vanish into a hole in the wall like she had vanished into the inverted well in the ceiling. Seconds passed, and she did not reappear.

The mind, bent on logic, told him that it wasn’t the same woman. This was the tenant who lived below. How else had she gotten passed the wrought iron gate. It was too tall to scale and had sharp, twisted, ornamental spikes at the tops. She wasn’t crouching. She had dropped her keys and been surprised as he stared at her, so she’d stared back.

Peter tried hard to believe that. He turned and continued to the supermarket still trying to believe it.

(to be continued)