A Fountain Filled With Blood

“Well…” Mrs. MacPherson hesitated. “Todd used to have trouble back when he was in school. He was one of those kids who attracts the attention of bullies. He got beaten up a few times. We reported—I reported every instance to the principal. Some kids got suspended as a result.”

“For Chrissakes, Cathy, he finished school six years ago. Todd’s a grown man now. Nobody’s going to go after him because his Mommy got them suspended.” Mr. MacPherson shook his wife’s arm free. “Goddamn it, none of this would have happened if he had learned how to defend himself like I wanted. If you hadn’t stopped me from teaching him how to fight—”

“Dad, Todd was never going to be like that.” Tim’s even voice sharpened to a hard point. “Give it a rest.”

Russ glanced at Clare, then back at the family. “Is Todd gay?”

“No!” Mr. MacPherson said immediately.

There was another collective moment. Mrs. MacPherson glanced at her husband. “Yes,” she said. Russ looked at Trisha and Tim. They both nodded.

Russ exhaled. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Do you think that’s it? That’s the reason Todd was hurt? Because he’s…” Mrs. MacPherson pressed her lips together in a tight line. Her eyes filled with tears.

“There was no theft, no vandalism…. Did Todd sell drugs? Smuggle cigarettes from Canada? Was he a heavy bettor?”

“No!” Mrs. MacPherson said. “Todd’s not like that. He works incredibly hard at his store. He’s doing a lot better than so many people his age.”

Tim shifted and scratched the back of his neck. “He did, you know, smoke pot sometimes.” He shrugged at his mother’s expression. “Sorry, Mom, but he did.”

“Smoking a few joints isn’t what I had in mind.” Russ’s eyes flickered toward Clare, and she caught a glimpse of amusement before he looked back at the MacPhersons. “We’re going to investigate every possible angle in order to find out who did this, then put them away for a good long time. Mrs. MacPherson, if you and your kids could give me a list of those boys who were expelled back when Todd was in school, I’d appreciate it.”

He pulled out a small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. Mrs. MacPherson pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, there was Andy Poccala.” She looked at her other children as if for confirmation. Tim and Trisha nodded. Clare slipped away while Russ collected what information he could from the MacPhersons.

Mr. MacPherson was standing, his shoulders rolled forward in the posture of a usually erect man too tired to stand straight. He was staring with apparent fascination at a CNN reporter interviewing a movie star who was gushing with happiness over her new—and fifth—husband.

Clare drifted next to Mr. MacPherson and came to a parade rest, staring at the screen. “We are totally in love!” the improbably youthful actress was saying. “I’m so totally happy!” Clare waited.

“Your church,” Mr. MacPherson said suddenly. “Do they do anything to help boys like Todd. Any programs?”

“Help him? How?”

“You know. When a boy is confused. Help him see that he can be a perfectly normal man. It’s all conditioning; that’s what I’ve read. You just have to help them make the right connections.” He broke his gaze away from the television screen and looked at Clare. His eyes had a desperate quality to them. “I know he could stop being…that way if he just had some support. Like AA.” He shot a bitter look at the rest of his family, who were clustered around Russ. “They’re no help.”

Clare took a moment before answering. “I have heard of those programs. Attempting to convert homosexuals to heterosexuality. St. Alban’s—and the Episcopal church in general—doesn’t do anything like that, no. And from what I understand, the groups that do have a very poor long-term success rate.” She touched his sleeve lightly. “I do believe there’s a much higher level of success in support groups that help parents come to grips with their kids’ sexual orientations.”

His eyes sparked, hot and hard. “He’s just had the crap beaten out of him because of what he is. Why the hell should I accept that?”

“Because he’s just had the crap beaten out of him for being what he is. If he could have changed himself, don’t you think he would have?”

“I just want my kid to be normal. Is that so bad? They can fix anything in your head these days, between the drugs and the therapy. Why not fix this?”

“Mr. MacPherson,” she said, “what sort of counseling or drug could make you turn from a heterosexual to a homosexual?”