But he had discovered something else, as when from perilous heights of diving he had discovered he loved not the sport but the coach, now he saw not in a blinding flash but in a calm recognition that as he had watched the contempt of the renderer for the pain and mutilation he was inflicting on him, he loved Roy Sturtevant in the same way he loved his coach, who had also commanded him to accomplish the impossible.

In almost the blinking of an eye then Roy Sturtevant had become his coach. There was no scissors-­grinder or renderer anymore, with blackened fingers and dirty ears, there was merely the young man bleeding and nailed to an old Pennsylvania-­style barn who was waiting for his pupil’s return with Brian McFee whom they had both loved equally.

So the wheel had come full circle, his past was blotted out along with most of his memory, all that remained to him therefore was this new coach bleeding and heroic against the barn door. So, he would show him Brian McFee, he would take the nails out, and then hold him in his arms for he would be his, they would both be one another’s forever. Roy would guide and keep him, he would not let him go wrong again, they would not part from one another ever after having only at last been united pursuant to so many devious detours and windings, as souls long separated from each other by the world’s vicissitudes are said to enter paradise linked arm in arm.

It was about an hour and a half till daybreak when Sidney went upstairs to Gareth’s room. Gareth was sitting up, which gave Sid a shock for he resembled so very much Brian McFee who was also sitting up by the driver’s seat down below waiting for Sidney to drive him back to Roy and the unnailing.

“Did you kill him? You’ve been gone long enough to kill a army.”

Sidney kept staring at him, marveling at the resemblance, and feeling dizzy by reason of the teeter-­totter effect of his running now to Roy, then back to Gareth, and then all over again from one to the other.

“It’s all settled,” Sidney spoke in the dreamy manner which had become habitual with him of late. He slumped down into the armchair and his hat fell off at his feet.

“What’s the meaning of all that earth on your shoes and pants?” Gareth wondered.

Then after studying his lover: “Did you kill and bury him already?”

Sidney’s lips began to form the word Yes, but then coming up with a start he answered, “Roy ain’t dead yet, no.”

Then panicking at Sidney’s peculiar behavior and his flushed cheeks, Gareth cried: “Where did you leave him then?”

“He’s nailed to the barn door.”

Gareth let out a sound like a balloon being burst, then jibed: “You’re stoned, ain’t you, you dumb shitass. . . . You didn’t do nothing to him I bet.”