Dave Eggers - Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever?

— No one asked you to quit?

— No one did. We all discussed it, though, and I was the first to bring up the possibility of me resigning.

— You brought it up.

— I believe so.

— You “believe so.” Hansen, your mouth keeps making mistakes. Okay though. I want to get back to all that. But let’s walk through this first. Do you remember me coming to your house?

— No.

— God. I feel like hitting you so badly.

— I don’t remember. Did you come to my house?

— I did.

— Okay.

— It’s not okay, Mr. Hansen. What the fuck is a “math party”?

—

— See. Now you’re scared. You fucking sick fuck.

— Stop. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

— Don’t get ahead of myself?

— I’m sorry for my tone. But you said we would stick to facts, and what happened, and what you personally saw.

— Right. It was 1989. I was eleven. I was with Don Banh and Peter Francis. Do you remember inviting us over to your house for a “math party”?

— Yes.

— Yes?

— Yes.

— Well shit. That is fascinating. You said yes! That is amazing. Well, that’s the first time you’ve demonstrated some spine. So you do remember it.

— I remember it. But I don’t specifically remember you being at my house.

— Okay, fine. But what the fuck is a math party, Mr. Hansen?

— I fed you kids, and we did math homework.

— Really? That was it?

— That was the primary purpose.

— Well now you’re a liar again. That was the primary purpose? That was the primary purpose? Don’t fuck with me. You’re saying that your great idea was to invite sixth-grade boys over to your house and teach us math? That this couldn’t be done after school or in a classroom or anything vaguely appropriate? That it had to be at your house, at night, and we had to sleep over? That this was a great idea? The primary purpose was math?

— Yes. I taught math, and this was a way for some students to catch up on concepts they didn’t understand.

— Why did we sleep over, Mr. Hansen?

— I don’t know. Probably because you all were having fun.

— How many beds were in that house, Mr. Hansen?

— In the house I lived in then?

— Yes.

— I don’t know.

— I’m about to kick you in the head.

— Three.

— Good. Do you remember where we all slept that night?

— No.

— Don’t make me get up.

— I’m assuming you’re upset because you slept in my bed.

— Why the fuck did we sleep in your bed, Mr. Hansen?

— I don’t know. I’m guessing we fell asleep watching a movie. That’s the real reason why you kids wanted to come over, because I’d let you watch scary movies.

— I didn’t like scary movies.

— Well, then I don’t know why you came over. Why did you come over?

— I came over because my crazy mother heard Don was going, and she thought you’d help me with my math. She thought it was some honor to come to your fucking math party. Did you rape us, you sick fuck?

— No.

— Mr. Hansen, I haven’t harmed anyone out here. But you’re making a strong case for getting your head kicked in.

— I didn’t hurt you. I didn’t even undress you, any of you.

— You didn’t undress us.

— No. I promise you. I did not.

— Okay. I want to table that for a second. We’ll come back to the clothes. First I want to get back to the beds. Don told me he came to four of your math parties. And each time he remembers being carried to your bed and then to another bed where he woke up. Why did you move him around?

— He probably remembers wrong. The kids typically fell asleep in my bed.

— Watching movies.

— Right. And then I’d carry them to the guest room.

— Well that sounds positively innocent.

— I know it doesn’t sound innocent.

— How do you think it sounds?

— I think it sounds inappropriate.

— Did you know it sounded inappropriate then ?

— Yes.

— So why did you do it?

— Why did I invite you over for movies?

— Yes.

— I was lonely.

— That’s it?

— Thomas, are you planning to harm me?

— No. I don’t know. Maybe. I’m vacillating between wanting to harm you and feeling bad for you. Why?

— Thomas, if you give me your word that you won’t harm me, I can fill in the details of the night you spent at my house. I understand why you’d want to know what exactly happened. I can do that. But I won’t do it if you’re going to kill me irregardless.

— That’s not a word. You should know that. You’re a teacher.

— What’s not a word?

— Irregardless. It’s just like saying either with the long i . You think you sound smarter, but you sound stupider. You should just stick to regular words. Don’t stretch.

— Okay. Sorry.

— Don’t be sorry. Just be smarter. You want to know whether I’ll guarantee your safety. Well, let’s see. I have to say … no. I can’t guarantee anything. I don’t owe you that.

— Thomas, I didn’t harm you. I didn’t harm Don.

— I don’t believe you. And don’t say my name.

— Okay. Then why did you bring me here?

— What do you mean?

— You went to a lot of trouble to get me here. But you’re rejecting my offer to fill in the gaps in your memory. I want you to have peace with this. You’re not the first former student to come to me wanting to know about those nights.

— And what did you tell them?

— The same thing I’m telling you. That what I did was inappropriate but that nothing terrible happened. You were not raped.

— See, this is what I don’t understand. Why risk your job and going to jail and everything else to bring boys to your house if you weren’t going to rape us?

— I told you. I was lonely. And it wasn’t just boys.

— You brought girls, too?

— Thomas, I need your assurance you won’t harm me, and that you’ll let me go. I have people in my life who count on me and who need me. My mother lives with me. She’s ninety-one. I feed her. I’m guessing it’s the afternoon now, so she’ll already be wondering where I am.

— You know, Mr. Hansen, you just made a tactical mistake. You fucked up, you fucked with the minds of however many kids who were under your care, and now you’re making demands of me.

— I didn’t mean it to come off like a demand. I was just trying to give you a sense of the other people in my life. You had an experience with me twenty years ago, but much has happened since.

— Okay, I understand you were trying to humanize yourself there. I know. If I know about your ancient mother, it supposedly makes it harder for me to harm or kill you. But in this case that’s stupid. I already know you’re a human being. And I know that you’re a monster. And now I know you have a ninety-one-year-old mother, who we both know has lived a long life, and besides, she raised a twisted man. So I’m not overflowing with sympathy.

— You won’t guarantee my safety.

— No. But I will say that if you tell me everything, and if what you tell me seems credible, then I’ll be more likely to leave you alone than if you keep telling me about your ninety-one-year-old mother who raised a pederast.

— I’m not a pederast.

— You invited boys to sleep over and you’re not a pederast?

— I acted inappropriately, I know this. But there are degrees to everything.

— You’re so sick.

— Thomas. You’re a smart guy. And given you’ve chained me to a post, I know you understand moral choices that are a bit off the beaten path. So I hope you’ll understand what I mean when I say that there is a good deal of grey in the world. It’s not a popular belief, I know, but most of the world is grey. I know that if a man touches a boy’s ass once, he can be labeled a pedophile forever, but that’s not fair, either. We’ve lost all nuance.