He hadn’t put his laces back in his shoes since jail. They would have taken his laces and belt, kept them safe in a plastic bag. And now he was walking around with shoes that looked enormously silly, the shoe’s tongues flopping out with each step, the shoes themselves almost sliding off his heels as Kurt staggered into the middle of the street.

There was an immediate reaction from the crowd. First, laughter. If you didn’t know what you were watching, it was simply hilarious, this poor vagrant stumbling around like a vaudeville clown. He looked slightly dirty, with dried blood on his nose. Hair and clothes disheveled. The ready-made audience enjoyed their opening act, a warm-up before the parade, the clown in full view, now straddling the road’s center line.

Clara was horrified to see the state he was in. She was no longer talking to Sam, but just holding the phone, her mouth open in horror, her gaze locked on the man who’d done so much damage to her and Molly. She tried to look away. She couldn’t.

But now it looked like he’d finally done some serious damage to himself. He looked half drugged. He looked lost.

Was he even looking for Clara, or was he just out of his mind and headlong deep into a crack binge?

No matter how sad and upsetting the scene was, Clara couldn’t worry about Kurt or herself. Her thoughts turned immediately to Molly. Even assuming Kurt wasn’t dangerous right now, not with all these people about, if Molly saw her father like this, it would ruin her. Unlike the attack, from which she’d bounced back amazingly well, this could do her real damage. Not just some lingering fears that had stayed with Clara since the attack. Seeing her father wandering down the main street—definitely drunk and probably also high—half dressed and covered in dirt and blood. She was too young. It would change something profound in Molly. She couldn’t see him like that. Clara turned to leave, to find her daughter.

“He’s got a knife!”

She spun around, looking back to Kurt, her mouth open, her feet frozen in place. He stood in the middle of the street, swaying, and wielding a small knife. He was saying something, something quiet and incoherent. He was rambling.

“Someone call the cops!”

But they had already arrived, walking slow, guns drawn.

It was pure horror, the crowd’s laughter faded to a silent shock. Parents covered the eyes of their children, those who didn’t try to leave the scene. Older kids struggled free to see, and to fail to comprehend what lay before their eyes, the adult reality in all of its twisted and fucked-up glory. Could they really understand it? They must have thought it was just part of the show. Maybe an example of how not be naughty during Christmas time.

Kurt was certainly being naughty, even to the police as they closed in on him. He wouldn’t put down the knife.

“Drop the knife!”

He wouldn’t drop it. It seemed like he couldn’t.

Could he even hear or understand them?

“Drop the knife and get down on your knees!”

The crowd had backed away, moving faster as they tried to get as far away as they could, far from the knife, the police with guns, and the crazy person. But Clara was glued to the scene. “Don’t shoot,” she yelled out. “Please don’t shoot.”

No matter how awful he was to her, she couldn’t let him just die in front of her. No one deserved to die like that.

Though perhaps that had been his plan all along. Suicide by cop. Fuck! He might be a complete bastard, but she wasn’t going to let him kill himself.

“Kurt,” she yelled. “Kurt!”

His head moved over to her, twisting slowly. Yes, he heard her.

“Kurt, it’s me!”

His shoulders slumped.

“Kurt,” she cried. “Drop the knife.”

He dropped the knife.

* * *

She stayed at the curb, stayed long after most of the rubber-necking crowd had moved on, meandering back to their preferred spot along the parade route. Long after any threat of bloodshed had passed.

She stayed to see Kurt lying on his stomach, hands behind his back, and then behind his head, cuffed. Other hands lifted him and then walked him away. She stayed when peace was restored, and the police left the immediate area, slowly idling away.

She stayed, watching for Molly.