Date: Sat, 10 Dec 2011 22:27:53 -0600
From: michaelpete@hushmail.com
Subject: Promiscuity and Purpose 7

CHAPTER VII

THE MEANING OF LIFE?


	About twenty minutes after Ned's door had closed with boy number
nineteen, a few minutes before eleven, the door bell rang. That usually
meant some kid who'd either run away or been tossed out by an angry parent
or step father. It wasn't either this time. It was a cop, with Jamie
Pazorsky, the tenth boy Ned had brought in that day, in tow. My knees
weakened. I saw Ned and myself being hauled off to a police station lock
up.

	"You know this boy, Steve?" asked the officer civilly.

	A policeman both knew my name and address and had in hand a boy I'd
sucked off. Right then, I was sure Ned and I were going to jail. Heart in
mouth making it difficult to speak clearly, I answered, "Yes, it's Jamie."

	"I was about to take him in for being high the umpteenth time but
then I thought of you."

	Jail seemed certain. The business I'd built since I was eleven was
about to be wiped out because Ned and I, Ned in particular, had been far
too promiscuous. .

	The officer, Sergeant Walter McNally according to his name plate,
just stared at me as though awaiting an answer. Then, "Well, what do you
think, should I take him in and have him locked up until he's eighteen or
leave him here with you."

	The feeling of doom got put on hold like a stuck guillotine
blade. What did he say? Did he want me, a man he probably, almost certainly
knew to be what his ilk called a child molester, to take Jamie in? That had
to be against the law or something. Anyway, he couldn't lock up an eleven
year old until he was eighteen just for huffing airplane glue. I slapped
myself mentally. C'mon, Steve, say yes.

"Okay, uh, okay, but..."

	"Don't worry about his mother, Jamie hasn't been home for a week,
more. She won't notice. If I took him there she'd only smack him around
like before. She'll be just as happy not to have him around."

	None of this made sense. This man was a police officer. I began to
suspect some kind of trap. Cops weren't supposed to be leaving off little
kids with men who were sucking their little cocks.

"Why me? Wouldn't..."

	"It's what you're supposed to be doing," he said seriously and
nudged Jamie toward me.

	That stopped me cold. Jesus, where was this cop coming from? As
usual when high, Jamie became immediately affectionate, wrapping his arms
around my waist. The cop nodded his head down and up twice. He seemed to
approve what he was seeing.

	"I'll stop by tomorrow to see how he's doing." He turned to walk
away then stopped and half turned to me. "What the hell is Ned trying to
do, set some kind of world record?" His expression was cop neutral, hard to
discern.

	That halted some worrisome doubts, questions. He wasn't making any
threats. It didn't even sound like a warning, but, he was a police
officer. I put up one hand and shrugged my shoulders trying to figure how
to answer his prescient question.

	He shook his head. "Never mind. Best I don't know. See you
tomorrow."

With me incredulously watching him go, he walked calmly down the street,
occasionally looking side to side but not back at me. What the hell was
this all about? What I'm supposed to be doing, he said? And did he realize
or care that he'd given me an impossible task? Calm and affectionate as he
was at that moment, Jamie was going to turn into a nasty little bastard the
next day. The kid was a junior version of Jekyll and Hyde. And he'd
leave. Short of tying him up, there was no way I could keep him from
going. And he'd be high again by mid afternoon. The stuff he inhaled was
addictive, psychologically if not physically. Was I going to be locked up
if I couldn't comply, as I was sure was the case? Was that the essence of
the trap?

	It suddenly dawned on me that Jamie was groping my groin. I quickly
brushed his hand away, stepped back and closed the door.

	"He took my glue bag," lamented my impossible charge.

	"Good for him. He a friend of yours?"

	"I like you better." He went for my fly again.

	I squatted and looked the boy over. His unparted hair hung over his
ears and down the back of his neck. His high cheek bones were sticking out
above his sallow cheeks. There was a dark smudge down his left cheek and
dried glue on the tip of his chin. The full lips he kissed so passionately
with were pallid. His normally round eyes were half closed. He was high as
a kite. No sense in trying to talk to him.

With my forearm under his armpit, I led him up the stairs to the living
room, shaking my head at the quandary I found myself in.

His mother was generally nearly as nasty as Jamie would become the next
day. No Jekyll and Hyde with that bitch. She'd already tried to extort
money from a BL who made the mistake of taking Jamie home. If she somehow
learned where her son was, she'd probably come banging on my door. This was
ridiculous, and damned dangerous. Fucking cop!

Jamie noticed the stacked beer cans.

	"Neat. Can I have one?"

	"Yeah, but empty. You need a bath and then into bed."

	"You gonna wash me?" he slobbered.

	"Probably but that's all. Christ, Jamie."

	As I was about to take him to my third floor bedroom and bathroom,
Ned came out with his young friend. He looked at Jamie.

"That was quick."

	"No, it wasn't." I tried best I could to use my hand and mouthed
words to tell him not to bring any more boys back to the house then
silently, "Police, police".

	Ned told the boy to wait for him down by the front door. "What
happened?" he asked, worry all over his face.

	"A cop brought Jamie to me, I think to keep or something like
that. He saw you scoring all over the place."

	"Shit! He in a car or on foot?"

	"He's a sergeant, probably has a car but he was walking when he
left. I thought we were busted. Get rid of him," I nodded toward the
stairs, "and come straight back and park. No more tricks tonight. We'll
talk when you get back. I gotta clean Jamie up and try to get him into bed,
to sleep."

	Ned trotted down the stairs. I took Jamie up to the bathroom and
helped him strip. He tried to put his arms around my neck for some of the
frenching he so enjoyed when he was high. When I turned on the shower and
made sure the tub drain was open, Jamie again grabbed my crotch.

"Not tonight, Jamie."

	He leaned back on the side of the tub. "Then I need my bag. Don't
you got no glue here?"

	He was dirty, head to foot, probably hadn't bathed for a week,
possibly hadn't been home for that long, had probably been high most of the
time. It was partly our fault, no, mostly, those of us who picked him up
for sex then gave him the money we knew full well he'd use to buy the
glue. A wave of guilt swept over me as I lifted Jamie into the tub and
pulled him by the arm into the stream of water.

	"Shit," he muttered. "How come I gotta do this? You gotta give me
some money."

	"No, I'm going to take care of you. If I don't, that policeman is
going to lock you up so just stand still." I said policeman rather than cop
in hopes it would be a weightier term.

	Jamie was thinner than the last time we'd been together, really
pathetic. It'd only been a couple of months. He hadn't had a particularly
great body back then but it had been thicker, healthier. For sure he'd been
eating nutritionless junk food, spending most of his cash to get high. It
had always been doubtful that he'd received much food at home either. His
mother was on welfare with three teenagers in the house, only one still in
school but on her own initiative. There were rumors that the girl was
prostituting herself to continue her studies. The two older boys ate most
of the food their mother was able to buy. They weren't very brotherly at
all. A couple of times when Jamie was particularly nasty toward the wrong
kids and got beat up badly, neither brother, nearby during one incident,
had come to his defense. Those of us who knew of the family conjectured
that none of the three older children who'd left and had jobs ever gave
their mother anything. It wasn't that they couldn't, she was just one very
unpleasant, demanding woman, abusive and loud. There'd been at least three
fathers of the seven children, none of them sticking around for long. The
father of three, though not successive children, only came around to screw
and never came to visit with his offspring. Jamie hated his mother because
of the fits of slapping he had to endure when she was in a bad mood. He'd
been kicked out of one school at nine for being such an obnoxious, nasty
brat.  He was only in the third grade due to failing twice, mainly due to a
lack of attendance. It was April. We'd all seen him on the streets during
school hours often enough since September to wonder if he was going at all.

	None of us who knew him had any idea how bright he was, or
wasn't. High, he just wanted sex. Sober, he was too unpleasant to talk
to. One BL acquaintance was sure he was sucking off some of his glue
companions. Was he gay? Another mystery.

With him protesting that he wanted to go back out as soon as he was clean,
I began with his mussed up hair. He wanted to know if I had any clean
clothes for him, any glue or some of that beer downstairs.

	I kept reminding him he'd be arrested if he left. I got the
impression the precariousness of his situation was gradually entering his
muddled mind.

	His cock was fairly clean, probably from being sucked. Ned had had
him earlier. So, I made short shrift of it to avoid having him think sex
was in the offing. After drying, I carried him into the bedroom and lay him
naked on the bed, turned down the covers and slipped him under them. He
held his skinny arms out for me to come to him. I sat on the side of the
bed.

	"Jamie, you need to sleep, get sober."

	As I spoke he raised himself up, got his hands around the back of
my neck and pulled himself up to me. I didn't resist the kiss he planted on
my mouth. When he opened his and tried to force his tongue inside mine, I
laid down and let him, rationalizing that this might help him to fall
asleep. It had happened before right on that same bed.

	It was going to take time. He pushed the covers off and climbed on
top of me, looked me in the eye for a moment then lowered his face, mouth
open, to mine. He really was a great kisser, one of the best.

	I felt him grinding his groin into me, then the hard on. He reached
under to get at my cock which was nearly as stiff as his.

	Christ, I thought, I having sex with a kid a cop just brought
around. "Jamie, you gotta get to sleep. We can't go doing this right now."

	He rolled onto his back and began to cry. "You don't care about
me. How come I can't have any a that beer?" The tears and sobs were
real. Of course, it was the glue, but I found it impossible not to take him
into my arms and hold him.

	"I care about you. That's why no beer. Unless I take care of you,
that cop's gonna put you in a juvenile jail until you're eighteen. You
heard him. I love you and I mean that." Nobody loved Jamie. Sober, he
didn't allow it. My love was a lie.

	He embraced me but kept sobbing. "I hate cops," was all he repeated
several times then, "I can't sleep alone. You gotta sleep now too."

	As a matter of fact, the few times he'd spent the night, that had
been the case. He'd always needed my company, well, except one time he was
so high he passed out down in the living room; but that was beer, not
glue. For some reason glue didn't make any of them particularly drowsy.

	I heard Ned come back in. "All right, Jamie. Look, I gotta talk to
Ned for a few minutes then I'll come back up and sleep with you."

	"Why can't I go down with you. I'm scared up here alone." He kissed
me twice on the cheek then the lips.

	"It's only gonna be for maybe five minutes then I'll come right
back up and get in bed with you. I'll leave the light on and the door
open. You'll be okay." I stood.

	Jamie looked very sad wiping away tears but I did need to explain
what had occurred. I went out and downstairs.

	Ned was incredulous when I related the events. "You sure this isn't
some kind of trap, you know, catching you with a kid in the house, in bed,
naked?"

	"I sure as hell hope not but, the way he talked, like when he said
this is what I'm supposed to do. Why would he say that?"

	Ned shook his head. "Maybe, we should go stay someplace else
tonight, some motel, and see what happens."

	"What, and take Jamie like he is, all high, with us? You can but I
gotta stay here. I can always get down the back stairs and out if I see
cops at the door."

	Ned swallowed his fear and went to bed. When I headed back to the
stairs, there was Jamie sitting on the bottom step wearing his dirty
clothes.

	"Oh, Jamie, you can't go out. That cop's gonna arrest you. Let's go
up to bed. I'll get in with you."

	"How much you gonna give me?"

	"Nothing but keep you out of jail." It took a while. He argued he
knew how to avoid cops. I reminded him a cop had brought him to
me. Finally, he elicited a promise to suck him off. I knew that would be
difficult in his condition but hoped he'd fall asleep if I was gentle about
it.

	In bed, he crawled under the covers into a sixty-nine position and
stuck his hand inside my pajamas then into my boxers. I didn't resist,
really didn't want to. He was good at that too though wasn't always able to
get me off. I took in his cock and balls, cock under my tongue and slowly
slid it back and forth. I felt his hot mouth suck in my hardon and slide
better than halfway down. As I caressed his back and head, he began pumping
into my mouth. I let go of his balls and began sucking him hoping orgasm
would help him sleep, or so I convinced myself.

	It wasn't necessary. He gradually slowed his ministrations on me
then stopped altogether though keeping me inside his mouth. The thrusting
into my mouth followed suit. His mouth opened. His breathing got
heavier. It was possible, even likely, he'd gotten very little sleep for
the week or more of his most recent stay on the street. I didn't move for
probably half an hour, waiting until he was in deep sleep before tugging
him around and putting his head on the pillow. He rolled into me and
embraced, likely some kind of automated reaction to my moving him. He was
still in the affectionate mode, one that would change dramatically when he
woke up many hours later. His head nestled into the inside of my elbow and
his one leg dropped over my hip, I tried to go to sleep myself. It didn't
happen for a long time. Worry is stronger than caffeine.

	What had I gotten myself into? Was this really what I, a gay man
who liked little boys for sex, (We hadn't yet learned the word pedophile.)
was supposed to be doing? Other than Henry and, to a certain extent, Kurt
back in Germany, I hadn't really ever been in love with a boy. The interest
had been physical, well, and the fun of being with them, enjoying their
boyish company. My most recent thoughts had BL's as basically immature
individuals having sex with, what were in effect, peers. Other men I knew
had other opinions, some saying we were born this way for some evolutionary
reason, others accepting the psychological community's line that our
orientation arose due to some familial malfunction though they couldn't
seem to agree on which parent was responsible or even in what way. The
problem with that was the variety of familial backgrounds the men I knew
had including some like me who'd had loving, stable, non-abusive parents
and essentially happy families. Others like my sometime partner Herb (We
chased boys together.) had had terrible childhoods with abusive fathers and
weak mothers, right out of the psychiatrist's guide book. Herb liked them
even younger than I did, down to five and six. It scared the crap out of me
when he brought one into my pickup, but not as much as the eleven year old
beside me.

	From experience, it could be expected for him to sleep at least
until noon. Then, however, the boy who'd get out of bed wouldn't be
anything like the one who got into it.  I tried to think of ways to keep
him calm enough that we could have a fruitful conversation, one that
resulted in a full understanding of his situation even though I still had
my doubts that Officer McNally could do what he'd threatened..

In the morning, Ned, generally my idea man, had no helpful thoughts. In
fact, he felt sure there was no way this was going to work out in my
favor. "If that cop gets to thinking you didn't try hard enough to pull
this off, he might decide to bust you, maybe both of us. I really think we
oughta think about moving, today."

	"Ned, I own this house. It isn't salable as it is. You go if you
want, but I've got to stay. Anyhow, that cop's gotta know how Jamie is and
I'm gonna try very hard to help him and not just to satisfy some cop. Maybe
he's right. Maybe this is what I should be doing. Right now, I'm probably
the only chance Jamie has."

	"Christ, Steve, nobody can help that kid. First, there's no way
he's gonna stop getting high until he gets locked up. Shit, he'll find a
way to get something no matter where they put him. That's the way kids like
him are. And, you know damn well what a little bastard he can be when he's
not high on something."

	"So I try. I can at least do that. Maybe, he just needs someone he
can trust, somebody who's not just after his body."

	"Nobody's after that kid, just his blow jobs."

	"And French kissing," I added feeling Ned was right. Why couldn't
that cop have brought around a kid a little less messed up. I knew a
few. Billy whatever up above the park just needed someone to be his really
good friend. He sniffed glue too, just not all the time like Jamie. Shit!
"I gotta try. The cop's gotta see I did my best, and maybe we should slow
down, especially you. Screw your twenty-four scores. Why not pick a few we
like and stick with them, Christ, get to know them. I don't think I know
any of mine all that well and I'm sure you don't, not even Brian you had
last night."

	"Hey, I like Brian and he loves me. And we do stuff together."

	"What's his last name?"

	"You know he doesn't tell anyone that."

	"Yeah? It's Ogden. Most of the other twenty guys he goes out with
know it too. Frank told me."

	Ned frowned and sat in an easy chair. He had a hard time admitting
he was wrong about anything, so, "Something else you're not thinking about:
You get close to a kid, really close, you're gonna end up knowing his
mother. Remember what Jamie's mother did to the last guy was gonna help her
son."

	"Blackmail. I know but this time there's a cop involved. She can't
do nothing like that now. Anyway, maybe I won't have to meet her. I don't
think she cares that much about Jamie. How old is she, like middle forties?
All right, she's not all that old but..."

	"But, shit! If something, anything goes wrong with this kid and the
law gets involved, you're crazy if you think that cop's gonna admit he
brought a kid to stay with some child molester. Shit, they'd lock him up
too. You need to get away from this. Come on, let's take our losses and get
the hell out of here."

	"Our losses, Ned? The losses are all mine. You don't have anything
invested here. I'm the one's gonna lose everything."

	Ned shook his head. "Well, I'm almost up to twenty-four and your
cop protector isn't on duty until four. I'll have six more way before
that. Meanwhile, that kid's gonna leave and so should we."

	I trudged up to my bedroom, sat in a chair by the bed and stared at
Jamie. He looked so innocent, even vulnerable, lying there, well, not
exactly lying. His ass was up in the air and his arms stretched out to each
side, his face in the pillow with just enough nose and mouth free that he
wasn't going to suffocate. His neck was bent back at a nearly forty-five
degree angle. Even his sleep was fucked up.


	By noon, when Jamie came to the kitchen door stark naked, morning
erection pointing up at me, Ned had twenty-four beer cans stacked up in a
pyramid. Two pairs and two singles had made up the half dozen he'd
needed. One pair had included a thirteen year old I'd wanted but never run
into when he was hustling, a rare situation. Herb, who'd had him twice,
told me he rolled over for two dollars.

	Ned was in there with me making a pair of peanut butter and jelly
sandwiches. For my guest, I'd prepared the fixings for a breakfast of
pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice.

	"Where are my clothes? I gotta go," Jamie asked from the hallway
door.

	"I washed `em. They're out back drying."

	"Shit, I gotta go. You always got kids' clothes around here. Get me
some. And I need two dollars. Anyway you owe me from last night."

	"Come on and eat breakfast. We've got pancakes and some really good
syrup, and juice."

	"Shit!" He thought for a moment. "Okay, but then I gotta go."

	He sat by the sink while I poured the mix into my biggest cast iron
frying pan. I sought words to open our discussion about his situation. "You
know a policeman brought you here last night?"

	"Bullshit!" I could see he was groping through fogged memories of
the previous night, probably trying to figure out how he ended up in my
bed. "Nyah ah, you picked me up."

	"Wasn't me. It was Sergeant McNally. Think about it and you'll
remember. He said you either stayed with me or he was gonna lock you up
until you're eighteen."

	"That's bullshit. No cop's gonna bring no kid here."

	"This one did. You gotta know him `cause he knew you pretty
well. Sergeant McNalley, Walter."

	"Shit! That's officer Walter. All he wants to do is lock kids
up. He..." He stopped, lips pursed. "Shit."

	I turned over the three pancakes then, "Remember what he said now?"

	"He' din't say nothin'. You pay him or something to bring kids
here?"

	"Of course not." I smiled. "Anyway, you were here last night with
Ned, remember?"

	"So what if I was. That don'... Shit. I still ain't staying here
and you still gotta pay me," he said with a serious look while waving his
fork at me.

	"You go out and he sees you, he's gonna lock you up and you know
it. Why not stick around here for a couple of days. You can go out with
me. It's Saturday, we can go to a movie or something." It was still too
cold to go swimming, what he'd probably have gone for. There was always the
YMCA pool downtown if they'd let us swim there that day except I knew Jamie
sober didn't like taking off his clothes in front of others when he was
sober. The only way to suck his cock before he was high was with his pants
at mid thigh. Those days, everybody who swam at the Y had to do so naked.

	While Jamie stuffed in pieces of his three fluffy pancakes under
far too much Aunt Jemima syrup, I gave my spiel. "Jamie, you're in a lot of
trouble. You're not going to school."

	"Yeth ah am," he said with his mouth full.

	"No you're not. You've been sniffing airplane glue every day for a
month or two at least. No way they're gonna let you in smelling of
glue. And, I don't think you've been going home much either. That makes you
a truant and a runaway on top of the sniffing the cops know about. You need
help to get yourself back to normal." Jamie normal, I told myself at that
point was hardly normal when compared to the rest of the kids I knew, hell,
the rest of the kids on the planet. "Let me help you. You can stay here and
it'll just be us, no other kids. And we can do things together."

He was shaking his head as he shoveled the pancakes in. I wasn't making any
headway. "Jamie, I care about you. This isn't for sex. We don't have to do
any of that unless you want it and I mean that. Try me. And I'll buy you
some new clothes and shoes and maybe I can find a way to get you back in
school and then I'll help you with your schoolwork, get you caught up so
you can do anything anybody else in your class can."

He pushed his uneaten pancakes into the middle of the table and
chug-a-lugged the juice. "Fuck that. I gotta go. Get my clothes."

"Jamie, look at yourself. You're not eating right, probably not getting
enough sleep and wrecking your body with that glue. It's lucky you haven't
gotten really sick but you will eventually. You go out and that cop's gonna
get you."

"Ain't no cop gonna get me. I know what to do so just get my clothes."

Desperate, I stood up and said, "No, I'll let you put on one of my shirts
but you need to stay here for a couple of days at least."

Challenging him like that was a bad idea. He reached out and grabbed the
plate of pancakes and threw it across the room. It crashed and broke
against the wall, pancakes, syrup and ceramic splinters going all over.

"Get my fucking clothes or I'll break everything you got in this shitty
place of yours!"

That left two options, letting him go or tying him up. Sure the latter
would only make matters worse and might put me in jail for a far worse
charge than sucking premature cock, I told him to clean up the mess while I
got his clothes. He didn't.

When I got back with his damp jeans and shirt and wet socks and jacket, he
was still sitting at the table. "You gotta let me go out the back," he
insisted. I'd locked the door.

Maybe this was an angle. "No way, nobody goes out there but me and Ned."

He took the clothes. "Shit! This stuff is all wet. Get me something dry."

"Don't have anything even close to your size. Don't believe me, go on up to
my room and look."

He stomped upstairs, his boney legs and ass like looking something out of
Auschwitz, and went through all my dresser drawers, tossing clothes and
sheets onto the floor. In the closet, he searched the shelves on one side
then yanked down a couple of shirts on hangars and threw them out behind
him. "Shit! Shit! Gimme my fucking clothes!"

"It's cool out. You'll get sick."

He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, snatched up his pants and
forced his legs through the damp legs. "Gimme my fucking money!"

"So you can buy glue? No way."

"You sucked my cock, faggot. You owe me!"

"You pretty much made me or you wouldn't go to sleep." Mentioning he sucked
me too didn't seem appropriate at the time.

"Don' matter, you still gotta pay!" he almost shouted.

I shook my head. "I want to help you, not hurt you."

"So whatta if I get sick `cause you got my clothes all wet? Then what?"

The anger was being replaced by frustration. The beginnings of tears were
forming along the bottoms of his eyes. He was having trouble getting his
shirt on, not because it was damp. He just couldn't get it straight. "I
ain't never coming back here no more an' I'm gonna tell the other kids you
don't pay so they won't come neither. Where's my shoes?"

	"Upstairs under the bed."

	He stomped out and upstairs again. I followed quietly mainly to
make sure he didn't try to steal anything. As I got to the doorway, his
back was to me and he was running one arm across his face. When he got to
his knees to look for his shoes, he put his forehead against the bed for a
few moments before reaching underneath. He wiped his eyes twice as he
pulled on his shoes. Was he weakiening? I so wanted to hold him.

	When he got up and saw me in the door, he repeated angrily, "Yeah,
I'm gonna tell all the others not to go with you `cause you don't pay." He
pushed past me.

	It's hard to stomp going downstairs but he made the attempt. It
looked like he was using the railing to force his body downward in order to
make as much noise on each step as possible.

	Toward the bottom, I tried to prevent his departure from being
final. "Just remember, I'll be worried about you. You can come back here
anytime you want for food, to sleep, take a bath.

	He stopped and turned, the old familiar nastiness on his slightly
wet face "Yeah, so you can see me naked!"

	"You can shower by yourself. I just want to help you get your life
together."

	As he turned, he raised his right hand and gave me the finger.

	I felt helpless.

	Ned had caught that last scene. "You're an idiot if you think you
can help that little bastard."

	That didn't help.


	Ned, currently working the four to midnight shift with Friday off
one week and Thursday and Friday the next, left for his lab at three
thirty. I had immersed myself in the renovation of the first floor kitchen,
installing the sink cabinet and plumbing in the sink itself, trying to
concentrate on my work and keep Jamie out of my mind. It didn't work very
well. I cut my hand when I thoughtlessly dropped the sink into its opening
with my hand in the way

	I really wanted to escape to a nice restaurant for dinner, not
reheat leftovers but that's what I did. What if Jamie came back?

	I was watching television when the doorbell rang a few minutes past
eight thirty causing me to jump up and rush to the front doors. It was
Sergeant McNally.

	"So how's Jamie? Still here?"

	Shaking my head, I replied, "I did everything I could but he broke
one of my plates and threw my clothes all over the floor. But, I told him
he could eat or sleep here if he wanted but he was giving me the finger
while I said it. I don't think anybody can help that kid."

	The sergeant smiled. "I know he's difficult so I'll tell you
something you probably don't know about him. This one day we'd picked him
up because he was knocking over trash cans in an alley after some kid beat
him up. Well, on the way back to the station, the officer and I were
talking about that puzzle about getting the fox, chicken and seed across a
river without any of them eating anything or each other. We weren't getting
anywhere and Jamie pipes up with the solution, just like that.

	"Then at the station, we cuffed him to a chair beside a desk where
another sergeant was going over expenses, adding them up. Before the
sergeant was done with the second column, the kid piped up with the sum,
again, on the money. Then he did it for the next column, blew the
sergeant's mind.

	"So, the sergeant cleared off half his desk and took out a deck of
cards, laying them all face down for that memory game he liked to
play. Well, by then, everybody's heard about this kid and we're all crowded
around watching. After maybe a dozen or so turns, Jamie started snapping up
cards. He beat the sergeant who played this game a lot forty-two cards to
ten.

	"What I'm telling you is that, aside from all his problems, Jamie
is one very smart cookie. I know how difficult he is. I've run him in a
bunch of times but never for anything all that serious. I don't know why
the school hasn't filed something on him but that's their business. I
talked to his teacher. She didn't know how smart he was either `cause he
hardly ever shows up, nothing the last four months.

"This kid is worth saving. All I'm asking is that you try. Okay?"

	I sighed and nodded affirmatively. Other than amazement, what
occurred to me was, "Maybe that's why he's so screwed up."

	"Exactly, that and his fucked up mother and being really poor and
living around the hoodlums down that way. So Steve, you're his only
chance. If I spot him, I'll bring him over."

	After he'd left, I walked up the stairs shaking my head at the
sergeant's incredible revelation. Jamie sounded like some kind of genius. I
couldn't have done what he did. I never did figure out the fox, chicken,
seed conundrum. But, maybe there was a way to use his intelligence,
challenge it in a way that would draw him in. I cursed myself for not
asking if he could read. Numbers were one thing, words another. Being in
third grade in a public school didn't mean much. I knew kids in fourth who
could barely read a newspaper headline.

	I stayed up until Ned came home from work in hopes Jamie would come
by after hustling his little body on the avenue which he might not have
done for fear of McNally spotting him. However, hustling was his way of
earning money to buy his model airplane cement.

	Ned told me I was nuts.

	Surprisingly, Jamie, dirty faced again, came to my door around
noon, relatively sober with that fuck the world sneer on his face. "I'm
hungry. You said you was gonna give me food."

	There was no humility of any stripe in his words, just a demand for
compliance.

	I ushered him upstairs. An attempt to put my arm over his shoulder
was brushed off. He refused to wash his hands.

	"You gonna stick around for a while?" I asked as I served him the
pancakes he insisted on.

	He just shook his head.

	"You really oughta take a bath. You can do it alone, undress and
dress inside the bathroom."

	Another head shake.

	I sat down across from him and said, "Jamie, you're a very
intelligent boy. You could go to college one day, have a really great
career, make some serious money. I'll take care of all your expenses. All
you've gotta do is do your school work. You can stay here if you want. No
sex. I won't bring around other boys. It'll just be you and me."

	"I'm kicked out of school," he asserted after swallowing a
mouthful.

	"No you're not. You just don't go. Sergeant McNalley talked to your
teacher. You can go back and I'll help you with your school work, get you
caught up. You're smart enough you could probably skip grades."

	Jamie appeared to be ignoring me. He emptied his glass of juice and
asked if I had any cookies.

	I did but I wasn't going to stick more sugar into him. He'd used up
most of the bottle of syrup in just two sittings.

	Minutes later, he was gone, again with me trailing him down the
stairs with entreaties to stay.

	After more abuse from Ned who'd been watching our little scene, I
went back down to the kitchen I was fixing up.

	My expectations for a nighttime appearance of my problem child went
unfulfilled. Desperate for physical comfort, I got in my car for a midnight
cruise. It had warmed up a bit providing a late night temperature around
sixty. Sure enough, there were two preteens on the park corner, one a fat
kid who loved to rim hairy assholes. It wasn't what I was looking for so I
continued up the avenue to the commercial area, almost missing Buddy
Anderson, a less than well endowed twelve year old in front but an
affectionate sleepmate, exactly what I was looking for. I drove around the
corner and walked back. Buddy was deep into his glue bag. I smelled it well
before he saw me.

	Worried I was going to go rejecting what little was available, I
drove quickly around the park, passing two fourteens sitting on the church
steps, neither of whom were of interest. If Ned were to come by as he
sometimes did after work when he was on the evening shift, he'd take them.

	The two on the park corner were talking to a man in an old
Pontiac. I drove up past Buddy into the commercial area. There were three
teens at the hustling corner so I turned left and headed down the street,
eyes open for something smaller but there was no one. A few more turns and
I headed back toward the park. Buddy appeared to be asleep in a
doorway. The two boys on the park corner had apparently found their
overnight customer.

	Farther ahead, near the corner of my boulevard, two boys, both
known, both with brown paper bags over their mouths, were leaning against a
parked car. The one waved at me to stop. I pointed ahead and waved my hand
indicating I had someplace to go, something they were unlikely to believe,
and turned toward home, parking two houses down. I got out of the car with
a slim but fervent hope that Jamie would be sitting on the stoop. He
wasn't.

	As I'd suspected, Ned found the two church steps teens and brought
them home, fed them and disappeared into his bedroom where conversation
ended shortly and silence ensued.

	I lay in bed awake for at least an hour imagining the cock sucking
and maybe even fucking that was going on just below me.

	It took days for hunger to send Jamie back to me. Rather than stuff
more sugar in him, I claimed not to have the flour needed for pancakes and
made him a ham and cheese sandwich with the extra mayo he demanded. I
considered it a victory when he washed his hands while I prepared his
lunch.

	"You can take a shower if you want. I'll stay down here."

	He frowned wordlessly but, when he'd finished his glass of milk and
the two Lorna Doone cookies for dessert, he went upstairs only to come back
naked a few minutes later. "I can't work that fucking thing."

	In the bathroom with the water as he wanted it, I asked if he
wanted me to wash his back.

	"Fuck no and stop looking at my ass!"

	"I was looking at your dirty back," I said as I left.

	When he'd been up there with the water running for twenty minutes,
probably about to run out of the eighty gallon heater's supply, I went back
up. He was sitting with his back to the water, asleep.

	He awakened the moment I tried to lift him out of the tub. It took
him a few moments to say, "Get the fuck offa me!"

	"You were asleep. You can get in bed and take a nap if you
want. I'll stay downstairs."

	"I gotta go somewhere anyhow you just wanna...I gotta go."

	"Whatever," I sighed and went back to the living room in hopes of
getting in a few words once he was dressed.

	Again, he didn't come down so, concerned he was seeking something
to steal, I went back to see what the holdup was. He was in the bed sound
asleep, his clothes in a trail on the floor where he'd taken them off.

	There were three new windows I'd built waiting to be installed in
the front room on that floor so I closed the bedroom door and got to work.

	Two windows were in at a quarter to five when I heard his shoed
feet come out of the bedroom. "Wanna help me put this last window in?" I
asked with a hopeful smile.

	"Fuck that! I gotta go." He raced down the stairs, all the way to
the front door and out before I could put down the tools and follow.

	Worried that he'd left with something, I went into bedroom but
nothing seemed disturbed but the bed covers he'd slept under.

	The sergeant came by to see how things were going. He'd spotted
Jamie late the night before on the avenue west of the park with two older
boys. "If he'd've been alone, I'd have brought him here."

	Jamie appeared again the next day, earlier at a quarter to ten. He
said nothing, just walked in and up. Ned was in the living room sprawled
across the sofa clothed only in a bathrobe reading the newspaper,

	Jamie approached him, "Wanna do something?"

	I gave Ned a stern look. Ned said, "Sorry, just screwed one of your
bigger friends."

	"Who?"

	"Aha! That's a secret but I can screw you in an hour if you want."

	Jamie frowned and sat in my easy chair and stared up at me. "I'm
hungry. I wan' one them san'wiches like yesterday."

	"At your service, sir," I said with a smirk. "First, I've got to
check something downstairs." There was a patch of concrete in the backyard
walk that needed finishing.

	When I came back ten minutes later, Jamie was sound asleep. A not
too loud "Jamie?" didn't stir him so I went back to work.

	By the time he awakened after two, Ned had come and gone with a boy
who was on the verge of becoming a full grown man. I'd known him back
when. He'd smiled and groped himself as he passed by.

	As usual, it took Jamie a few moments to locate where he was. I was
seated on the sofa making up a material list for the front window trim on
the third floor and a ceiling liner to replace the plaster which was
missing sections.

	Eventually, "Where's my san'wich you said?"

"Not made yet. You've been asleep for three hours."

"No I ain't! What time is it?"

.I looked at my watch. "Two twenty."

"Lemme see."

I held out my wrist at the same time wondering if he could tell time. The
way he scrutinized my old Bulova augured no.

"I still wanna eat."

Once again, I indulged in the same tired, so far fruitless, effort to get
him to stick around, including buying him clothes and shoes. He actually
didn't reject the idea but I suspected it was due to fear that doing so
would eliminate the clothing offer.

We walked down to the avenue and took a street car. I was and still am, a
cheap bastard. Why take a car and spend gasoline when forty cents would get
us there and back with no parking meter worries.

The chosen clothing outlet was the same one I used whenever purchasing for
some of the poorer kids I took out on a regular basis. Though I told Jamie
the price range I was willing to pay for each item, he always wanted
something more expensive and became combative when I refused. Finally, I
sat him down and laid down the law. Wonderfully, it worked.

The shoes were complicated because he wasn't wearing socks and his feet
stunk. The salesman allowed me to take him into their bathroom and wash the
stink off. It didn't entirely work so I bought socks over which the shoes
could be fitted.

Then came what shouldn't have been a surprise. When we walked out of the
store, I turned left up toward the streetcar stop. He ran right, new
clothes and old shoes in his arms, I immediately cursed myself for being
the dumbest rube in the city. Still cussing under my breath, I took the
streetcar home and went to work on the long delayed re-wiring of basement
lights.

When Ned got home that night with another too old for me trick, this one
known to be able to take tree trunks up his ass, I was still up, still
angry with myself, but at least down from furious.

Ned noticed my mood, easily figured out why, and said, "I told you so."

I could have busted a two by four over his head, worse when I heard the
rhythmic squeaking of his bed springs.

Two days later, finally accepting and actually relieved that Jamie was
gone, I hit the street early to find some company. The pickings were
great. I took home a curly blond headed, thirteen year old still
prepubescent with a wonderfully solid body named Billy Wisniewski. The sex
was great and I got off between those powerful smooth thighs, but he wasn't
allowed to be out overnight. So, after taking him to a submarine house and
buying us both one of their delicious cheeseburger subs, Jelly Krimpets and
a pint of chocolate milk then eating it all in my car parked on a side
street well away from Billy's house, I went looking for an overnighter,
someone who cuddled but didn't smell like a glue factory.

There were a number of candidates, boys I knew would sleep with me but I
kept driving around, gradually realizing that the boy I was looking for was
Jamie Pazorski. Disgusted with myself, I stopped at the park corner and
picked Stanley Lang, a small fourteen, hairless where it counted, who
smoked but didn't huff and for two dollars would roll over and easily take
my average sized organ.

He'd also learned to kiss but it cost another quarter. It was to be my
first fuck in at least a month.

Stanley had small buns making penetration fuller and more
satisfying. Better, he had a hard on the entire time and grunted
occasionally when I thrust forcefully. When I sucked him off after
unloading my balls, he came quickly, proof that he'd been turned on by
having his prostate massaged.

For three days in a row, I scored, different boys each time, enjoying a
wide variety of body types and sexual pleasures including two blow jobs and
getting off between slick boy thighs all but once. That number was one of
those `don't touch my ass' tricks though he did beat me off.

On the fifth night, I rested. It was good I did because Sergeant McNally
came by at a quarter to six with shocking news. "Jamie's in the
hospital. The doctor's afraid he's going to die."

He explained that, three days before, Jamie had run in front of a street
car which tossed him against another car heading in the opposite direction
which knocked him back into the side of the streetcar which spun him around
and back into the same car. Both legs were broken, his left in several
places and dislocated at the hip, his left shoulder had also been
dislocated and that arm broken along with at least three ribs. Fortunately,
there hadn't been any serious head injury since he was bounced about, head
up in the air. There were scratches on the side of his face from the final
fall onto the asphalt but that was it.

No one had known who he was for over forty-eight hours until his picture
was passed around the police station and several officers identified him,
one notifying McNally on his arrival that evening.

"They didn't bring his mother over until the next day because no one seemed
to know where Jamie lived. A kid finally showed an officer his house. I
knew where it was but I didn't say anything `cause I was afraid she'd make
things worse which she did. Right after they took her into his room in
intensive care she started in giving him a bunch of crap. The nurse pushed
her out with Jamie screaming `bitch, bitch'.

"Now, here's the bigger problem. I don't think Jamie was high when he ran
out there. I think he was trying to get himself killed. The doctor's all
say he's not fighting to stay alive meaning he wants to die. He won't eat
anything. They even tried chocolate pudding.

"I know it wasn't much but you at least were communicating with him, I mean
he came back how many times?"

I shook my head. "Last time I was stupid and bought him clothes and
shoes. The minute we walked out of the store, he took off, probably to sell
them for glue."

"Still, Steve, you're the only option I've got to save that kid. I need you
to talk to him, try to get him to wanna live. The kids I've talked too all
like you. I'll bet Jamie does too. Forget the stealing. That's just part of
being what he is."

"And if he lives, what happens? The same old shit. Back to that mother he
rightly called a bitch or into some home he'll just run away from often
enough he'll be locked up in some place that'll make him worse.

"Am I really gonna be doing him a favor keeping him alive?"

McNally's shoulders slumped. He sat on the stoop. I joined him. There was
sadness and frustration in his voice when he said, "It's just that he's so
bright. The kid could have a fabulous future if he could just get his act
together. I don't know, Steve. Maybe you're right. Poor kid."

It was a few minutes before he spoke again. "Look, the fact that he kept
coming around with you not giving him anything but food..."

"How'd you know that?"

"C'mon, Steve. I know the kids. They don't necessarily trust me but they
will tell me things that don't compromise anybody. A couple knew Jamie
pretty well, better than you'd imagine, well, probably.

"Let's give it a try. Maybe I can arrange for him to do his recovery here,
after the hospital, of course. He's in a body cast right now and probably
will be for months, give you time to get close. You won't have to worry
about any withdrawal problems. They're taking care of that at the hospital
and he's going to be there for at least a few weeks.

"Steve, he dying. You can save him, make him be what he can be. Like I said
before, that's why guys like you exist. It's why I'm a cop with a wonderful
family and not in prison."

I looked at him. "Somebody helped you? Some guy like me?"

"I'm gonna tell you something but this is between you and me, clear?"

I opened my hands in agreement.

"When I was ten, I was mixed up in all kinds of crap, thieving, smoking,
staying away from home for days on end, and hustling but on the other side
of town. Then one of the guys I went out with decided to make me
special. He didn't stop picking up other boys but not all that many and
lots of times so I had a playmate when we went places like camping and this
lake he goes too. He worked with me on my schoolwork, talked to me about
behaving myself. He really loved me and I knew it, still does. Most
important of all, he made me feel good about myself, made me feel important
to somebody if not my parents who probably considered me a pain in the
butt.

	"I graduated from college, for Pete's sake. He paid for it all but
the money wasn't the most important thing he gave me and that was self
respect. With time, I'm betting you can do the same for Jamie."

	"You were as messed up as him?"

	"Not really but his problem is the same. He needs someone to love
him, make him feel important, help him with his schoolwork. I'll bet that
kid could skip grades easily, get where he should be in a year or two and
you can make it happen."

	I chuckled, "Christ, McNally, you should have been a salesmen, or a
politician."

	"Who knows? So, you gonna give it a try?"

	"I don't know. I'll bet there's a social worker attached to
this. What if she checks me out, gets suspicious?"

	"Let's cross that bridge if and when we come to it. You convince
him to live and they've got to go with you."

	We went in his patrol car to the hospital a few blocks up the
boulevard from my house. He introduced me to one of Jamie's doctors and
suggested I might be able to lift the boy's spirits.

	Shrugging his shoulders, the doctor said, "He's probably not going
to make it through the night as he is so I'm ready to try anything."

	Jamie was in an intensive care ward, a great white cast toes up on
both legs connecting to a cast that went around his middle, up his back and
over his right shoulder to more cast down to his fingers. Only his neck and
head, upper chest, and groin back to his anus were uncovered.. A tube came
out of his penis and off to a bag on the side of the bed. The saline
solution bottle went to a needle stuck into his right arm just below and
inside the elbow. There was a broad ugly scrape on the left side of his
face.

The sergeant asked if he could be moved to a private room for a while so I
could talk to him without all the fuss going on there in the ward. That
required a call to administration but they had one available. Jamie was
wheeled down the corridor and into the room with a heart monitor on his bed
and saline bottle on its post. The monitor was placed on a table. The door
was left open so they could hear the alarm if it went off.

	He seemed asleep all the way. I worried I was too
late. Nonetheless, I pulled a chair alongside his bed and began speaking
softly. "Jamie, Jamie, it's me, Steve. I'm sorry I wasn't here before but I
just found out a little while ago and came straight here to see you, be
with you."

	Was he hearing me? There was no way to know. I continued in hopes
some of my words were making it into his brain. "I know you're hurt and
probably in pain but this will pass, be over one day. It's gonna take a
while but I'll be with you all the way. I love you and want to take care of
you. Don't worry about the clothes, that's over and not important
now. What's important is that you get better."

	I went to take his hand. I noticed it was tied down with a soft
leather strap. I took it anyway and gave it a gentle squeeze. That's when I
saw the tears seeping from his closed eyes and starting to drip off the
sides of his head.

	I teared up myself. He could hear me. At least he knew I was
there. "In a week or so you, you won't need the glue and the doctor's here
are going to make that as easy as possible for you then we can start
everything all over, you and me, get you back in school. I'll help you
every night. You can sleep in a bed. I can get one for you if you want,
even give you your own room. You'll be able to eat good food. You'll feel a
whole lot better and I won't let you down."

	Was I making promises some social worker and/or his mother were
going to make impossible to fulfill? Like the sergeant said, cross that
bridge later. Now I had to be here with him. He squeezed my hand. I stood
and kissed his head, dripping my tears there.

	He tried to lift his arm but the strap wouldn't let him. Why was he
tied up like that? A nurse went by. I called to her. She noticed my tears
and looked quickly at Jamie, possibly thinking something was wrong.

	"Nurse, do you know why his arm is tied down like this?"

	"You need to speak with his doctor about that."

	I leaned in to Jamie. "Jamie, son, I'll be right back."

	The moment I was out of the room, the nurse told me, "I didn't want
to say anything in case he's awake."

	"He is."

	"Good. The problem is he yanked out his saline feed yesterday." She
stopped, tight lipped, then said, "You really need to talk to his doctor
about that."

	She pointed me down the hall where the sergeant was seated against
the wall. The doctor I'd spoken to was inside a small office beside
him. When I asked, he explained, "Yesterday, he pulled out his saline
feed. I'm worried he doesn't want to live. I don't know why he's so
unhappy. Do you?"

	"A really crappy life, very bad but I think he's listening to
me. He squeezed my hand. Can I release his arm while I'm in there?"

	"Of course. Just keep an eye on him."

	I rushed back to his room, sat down and untied the strap. He slowly
opened his eyes, already looking in my direction. Looking right back, I
lifted his hand and kissed it. He reached up and touched my face then
reached behind my neck and pulled me to him. "I'm sorry," he half
whispered. They were words he probably hadn't uttered in years.

	"There's nothing to be sorry for with me. Everything starts new
right now. Everything that's happened before is forgotten, gone. You let me
and we'll start your life over." I kissed his forehead again.

	"It's just that, how come I do that stuff I do?" he whined.

	"You don't have to do any of that anymore. Like I said, everything
can start over now. Everything that happened before, anything, everything
you did doesn't matter." I wondered what he thought of me crying. There was
no way to stop it. This was a new boy speaking to me, speaking in a way he
never had. Was it just his condition, the drugs they'd put into him, or was
this something sustainable. Right then, I'd never loved a boy more than I
did Jamie. This wasn't a Billy Turner or Henry Schaeffer love, it held far
more dedication, commitment, an obligation. Somehow, someway, we had to be
together.

	He pulled me close again. "I mean, why do I, you know, like I done
with you?"

	"You mean sex? I don't know. It probably just feels good, and being
with someone." I suddenly felt very guilty about all my sex with boys. Had
I hurt this child with it?

	"But I done it lots, with, not just you or the others..." He began
to cry. "How come I like it?"

	"Like I said, it feels good is all. Don't worry about it. You don't
have..."

	"But I like to do it. I done it with some other kids too. I don'
wanna be no fag." He turned his face away. The crying grew stronger. There
was a terrible pain in his face, probably from the strain he was putting on
his damaged ribs

	"Son, I don't think you're anything but normal, Lots of kids like
sex, do it with men and other boys and then they start to like
girls. Anyway, I love you no matter what you do or don't do." I was blank
on how to deal with this surprising admission. Was he gay? I'd heard
stories about him sucking other kids. I'd thought it was just something he
did when high. However, there hadn't been such stories about any others. A
lot of them did things with their men friends like Whale's rimming but not
with other kids. "Don't worry about that now. Just get well and we'll talk
about it when you better. I'm here no matter what."

	He was sobbing, making himself hurt. "But I done with some a the
kids too `cause I liked it. How come? I don' wanna but..." The crying broke
off his words.

	I leaned down and touched my forehead to his. "It's not important
to me, son. Anyhow, it might just go away one day and if it doesn't there's
lots of boys and men who like it and they're happy. They hang around with
others like themselves, like me with some of the men you know like my
friends Herb and Bob and, of course, Ned."

	His crying wasn't abating. His not understood, unwanted sexual
desires were what had made him try to kill himself with that streetcar.

	I partially broke a confidence. "You know Sergeant McNally, Officer
Walter, well he likes people like me and he's got a family and he likes
you. I'll bet you anything he won't care. I know he won't. Hell, I've got
friends who aren't homosexuals. Anyway, this may just be something you like
now `cause you're a kid. In a few years you might go crazy over
girls. Whatever, it doesn't matter to people who love you just because
you're Jamie Pazorski."

	He pulled me down again. When he did, I noticed McNally peering
around the edge of the door. I waved him in.

	"Jamie, I whispered in his ear, look who's here. Don't worry, I'm
not going to say anything to him but he's the one who told me where you
were and brought me here. He was, is, really worried about you. He cares
about you a lot and wants to see you get better."

	The sergeant went to other side of the bed, reached out and
caressed Jamie's hair. "Hi pal. You're one tough kid. You beat that old
streetcar."

	Jamie tried to control his tears, wiping them away with his free
hand.

	"We're all thinking about you and not just me, a lot of the other
officers. I didn't know you'd been hurt until today or I would have been
here right off. The other officers want to come see you too but the doctors
don't want too may people in here yet but they'll come and see you when
they let them."

	I couldn't imagine there was any truth in his words but he was a
sergeant. He could order them to stop by and certainly would after making
what amounted to a promise.

	He went on, "I'm really happy you're gonna be okay. I'm gonna leave
you alone with Steve now so you two can talk, okay?"

	Jamie nodded shallowly at him. McNally smiled, mussed his hair,
nodded to me and left.

	Jamie seemed in thought for a few minutes then, "But everybody's
always callin' fags names and sometimes beating on `em and the cops don't
do nothin'"

	"Jamie, you shouldn't worry about that now, okay, let's talk about
it." This was the subject that was so depressing him. It was as important
to deal with this as it was to heal his battered and broken body. I
repeated some of what I'd said, that it just might be something he'd get
over one day but if it wasn't, homosexuals could be just as happy as anyone
else. "Look at me. I have lots of friends. I really love the work I do and
make decent money at it."

	He said, "But you can get busted if the cops find out, me too." He
sniffed twice then muttered, "Shit."

	The discussion went on for about twenty minutes until the doctor
followed by a nurse with a pushcart. There was soup and crackers on it.

	The doctor smiled and said, "Hi. Well, you're looking better. I'll
bet you're hungry. Your friend can feed you if you want."

	Jamie looked away then at me. The doctor, pushing the nurse ahead
of him, left. Getting food into him was up to me.

	I picked up the bowl and held it near enough that he could smell
the chicken soup. I dipped in the spoon and put it to my lips to see how
hot it was. "You know the story of the three bears?"

	His slightly distorted expression answered that. I felt stupid
bringing it up but the soup was `just right'.

	With the half full spoon at his mouth, I said, "Here, try this."

	His eyes on me instead of the spoon, he opened his mouth. I put the
spoon inside and tipped it forward. He closed his mouth and seemed to
swallow. Without asking, I scooped up more soup and put it back at his
lips. Once again, he opened up. Again close to crying, I said, "Good, isn't
it."

	Halfway through the bowl, I asked if he'd like a cracker
too. "Okay," he answered.

	That was when I felt confidant he was going to make it, that the
suicidal thoughts had been at least been suppressed.

 	It was another half hour or so before a nurse came and said she had
to give him some medicine and he needed to sleep. I needed to speak with
the doctor regarding when I could come back.

	After promising Jamie I'd be nearby and come see him whenever it
was allowed, I kissed him on the forehead and squeezed his hand. `You're
not gonna touch this anymore, are you." I was pointing at the IV entering
his arm.

	Jamie nodded affirmatively and waved goodbye as I left.

	When I told the doctor how Jamie had finished off his soup and
crackers and now seemed ready to live, he told me I could come whenever he
was awake, something they were controlling with drugs that kept him asleep
most of the day in part to avoid glue withdrawal problems. He had a nurse
give me approximate times when he'd be conscious, the next opportunity
around six the following morning.

The sergeant was gone so I walked home feeling the best I had in years,
buoyant would be a good term.

I hit the hay at nine to get up at six, missing Ned returning and getting
up. The good news would have to wait until I got back.

Once again, I fed Jamie, still in the private room, this time a soft boiled
egg, toast and some kind of juice that he sucked out of a straw without
complaint. He was willing to talk about going back to school. I promised to
bring a couple of books for him to read.

Homosexuality didn't come up.

Ned was still asleep when I got back. I woke him up with the news.

"You know," he said, "sooner or later some social worker's gonna get
involved. She'll grill the kid. If he admits anything or they have even a
hint that he's not telling them everything, maybe covering something up,
you're toast. You really gotta find a way to get out of this. Shit, this
could come down on me too. I told you not to get involved with the kid, any
kid that close."

I rationalized the sergeant and the Intensive Care staff would insist I was
good for Jamie, that they didn't suspect anything wrong was going on.

So it was off to find some reading material. It took hours driving around
to three book stores to find a couple that weren't too difficult but with
stories I thought he might enjoy.

The midday visit again coincided with his mealtime. When I was allowed back
to feed him dinner, the pattern became obvious. They were leaning on me to
get food into him and, most of all, to keep his spirits up. The doctor
admitted that when we spoke.

Jamie read one of the books while I sat there feeling ignored but then
correctly predicted the ending. They were supposedly his grade
level. Something better was needed.

It was after my midday visit the next day that a social worker approached
me. At first, the questions were about him. Did I know why the accident
happened? "I suppose he was playing around and didn't look." I worried she
knew his real reason. That could engender psychotherapy of some kind. Then
what did I know about his family situation. "Very little. The only one I
knew is Jamie. He was just a street kid I got to know feeding him a few
times. I asked him about his family but he just said he had a bunch of
sisters and brothers. I don't think he's got a father at home but that's
just a guess."

She got into his glue sniffing, how often, how much, how high was he when I
saw him. "I only saw him really high a couple of times but the glue was
always on his breath."

There were a couple of behavior questions then she got to me. "What made
you think he needed to be fed?"

"He was filthy and skinny as a rail, a street kid."

She mulled that over then, "If you were so interested in him, why didn't
you go tell his mother, inform her that you were allowing him into your
house?"

There was an accusation imbedded in that query. "To be honest, I didn't
want to get that involved, not much more than feeding him."

"What did your wife think about you bringing a dirty street child into the
house?"

"I'm not married and the house is being remodeled so a dirty street kid
isn't going to mess it up much. Wouldn't you feed a hungry street child?"

"I think I'd refer him to the proper agency to look into why he was on the
street?"

"Well, I've got to work during the day so I don't have a lot of free time
to go looking for agencies." I smiled as I spoke but worried the answer
might ruffle her feathers too much.

She smiled back but it was what back in my old neighborhood was called a
shit eating smile, one paper thin with no warmness.

She thanked me for my time and strutted off. Not once had she said anything
about how nice it was that I'd saved the kid's life. Maybe agencies were
supposed to do that too.