The Corn Maiden and Other Nightmares by Joyce Carol Oates Page B

guards would turn him away.
    “But why? What have I done? What have I done that is anything more than rumor?”
    Not what Zallman had done but what the public perceived he might have done, that was the issue. Surely Zallman understood?
    He compromised, he would meet Dr. Cory on neutral territory, 8 A.M . Monday in the Trahern Square office of the school’s legal counsel. He was told to bring his own legal counsel but Zallman declined.
    Another mistake, probably. But he couldn’t wait for Neuberger, this was an emergency.
    “I need to work! I need to return to school as if nothing is wrong, in fact nothing is wrong. I insist upon returning.”
    Dr. Cory murmured something vaguely supportive, sympathetic. She was a kind person, Zallman wanted to believe.
    She was decent, well intentioned, she liked him. She’d always laughed at his jokes!
    Though sometimes wincing, as if Zallman’s humor was a little too abrasive for her. At least publicly.
    Zallman was protesting the decision to suspend him from teaching without “due process.” He demanded to be allowed to meet with the school board. How could he be suspended from teaching for no reason—wasn’t that unethical, and illegal? Wouldn’t Skatskill Day be liable, if he chose to sue?
    “I swear I did not— do it. I am not involved. I scarcely know Marissa Bantry, I’ve had virtually no contact with the girl. Dr. Cory—Adrienne—these ‘eyewitnesses’ are lying. This ‘barrette’ that was allegedly found by police behind my building—someone must have placed it there. Someone who hates me, who wants to destroy me! This has been a nightmare for me but I’m confident it will turn out well. I mean, it can’t be proven that I’m involved with—with—whatever has happened to the girl—because I am not involved! I need to come back to work, Adrienne, I need you to demonstrate that you have faith in me. I’m sure that my colleagues have faith in me. Please reconsider! I’m prepared to return to work this morning. I can explain to the students—something! Give me a chance, will you? Even if I’d been arrested—which I am not, Adrienne—under the law I am innocent until proven guilty and I can’t possibly be proven guilty because I—I did not— I did not do anything wrong .”
    He was struck by a sudden stab of pain, as if someone had driven an ice pick into his skull. He whimpered and slumped forward gripping his head in his hands.
    A woman was asking him, in a frightened voice, “Mr. Zallman? Do you want us to call a doctor?—an ambulance?”
    U NDER S URVEILLANCE
    He needed to speak with her. He needed to console her.
    On the fifth day of the vigil it became an overwhelming need.
    For in his misery he’d begun to realize how much worse it was for the mother of Marissa Bantry, than for him who was merely the suspect.
    It was Tuesday. Of course, he had not been allowed to return to teach. He had not slept for days except fitfully, in his clothes. He ate standing before the opened refrigerator, grabbing at whatever was inside. He lived on Tylenols. Obsessively he watched TV, switching from channel to channel in pursuit of the latest news of the missing girl and steeling himself for a glimpse of his own face, haggard and hollow-eyed and disfigured by guilt as by acne. There he is! Zallman! The only suspect in the case whom police had actually brought into custody, paraded before a phalanx of photographers and TV cameramen to arouse the excited loathing of hundreds of thousands of spectators who would not have the opportunity to see Zallman, and to revile him, in the flesh.
    In fact, the Skatskill police had other suspects. They were following other “leads.” Neuberger had told him he’d heard that they had sent men to California, to track down the elusive father of Marissa Bantry who had emerged as a “serious suspect” in the abduction.
    Yet, in the Skatskill area, the search continued. In the Bear Mountain State Park, and in the Blue Mountain