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

— We’ve lost all nuance? We’ve lost all nuance? You want to talk about nuance now? What the fuck does this have to do with nuance?

— You’ve brought me here because you assume that because I invited boys to sleep over, that I raped them. But I did not do that.

— So why bring them to your house? That’s the part I don’t get.

— Thomas, tell me something. You’re a single man?

— Yes.

— Are you straight?

— Yes.

— Have you brought women back to your apartment?

— Yes.

— Did you have sex with each one?

— What? No.

— Then why bring them home?

— That’s a stupid analogy.

— Did anyone ever mistake your intentions?

— What do you mean?

— When you got them home, was there ever confusion about your intentions? Did anyone ever think you planned to force your will onto them?

— No.

— I assumed not.

— Fuck you.

— But you could have. That could have been your intention.

— No. It couldn’t have been.

— But maybe something goes wrong. Maybe you brought twenty women to your apartment, and let’s say each encounter was safe and consensual.

— Yes. They all were.

— But what if the twenty-first encounter wasn’t? What if, during that one encounter, you both were drunk and there was confusion about consensuality? And later she accused you of date rape. If you’re arrested, or tried, or even just accused, immediately there’s doubt about the other encounters, the other twenty, right? Who knows what your intentions were. Maybe you raped them all. Or maybe you tried to. To the outside world, and to all the women who had consensual relations with you, your intentions are suddenly unclear, even in hindsight. Suddenly, to everyone, you’re capable of terrible things.

— Not possible.

— But of course it is. An accusation alone puts your entire character in doubt. This is how it works. An accusation is ninety percent of it. Anyone can ruin anyone with an accusation. And people are only too happy to be able to write someone off, to throw them into the pile of the depraved and subhuman. One less person. There are too many people, the world is too crowded. We’re suffocating, right? And clearing some of them away lets us breathe. Each person we throw away fills our lungs with new air.

— You’re getting off topic.

— I don’t think so. You have to realize that you’re a victim of this thinking, too. You heard something about me, and you brought me here, fully expecting me to conform to your idea of a throwaway person. But I’m not a throwaway person, am I?

— I don’t know yet.

— But we put no value on each other, do we? There are too many people. There are too many people in any given city, any given country. Certainly there are too many people on this planet, so we’re so anxious to throw away as many of them as possible. Given any excuse at all, we can erase them.

—

— What if there were only ten of us on Earth? What if there were only ten people you had to choose from who had to help rebuild civilization after some apocalypse?

— Oh Jesus. What’s your point?

— My point is that if there were only ten people on Earth, there’s no way that you would think I was dispensable. If I had wrestled with Don and had kids over to my house, you would never think those crimes so unforgivable that you’d send me away. I would still be useful. You’d talk to me, you’d work it out. But with so many people, no one person is worth so much. We can clear away wide swaths of people like they were weeds. And usually we do it based on suspicion, innuendo, paranoia. Whole classes of people. Including anyone vaguely associated with pedophilia. They don’t get fair trials, they’re sent away, and when they try to come back, they can’t even live. They live under bridges, in tents, huddled together.

— I don’t know what this has to do with you and boys.

— I’m not a rapist. You’re presupposing that anyone I brought into my house I intended to rape. But that wasn’t the case. Just as it wasn’t the case that you intended to have sex with every woman who ever entered your home. Your argument is circumstantial.

— But why bring the kids to your house? Why not just meet them after school?

— Why don’t you meet every woman in, say, a public park?

— Because I might want some privacy.

— Am I, too, allowed privacy?

— Not with kids.

— Is any adult allowed to be alone with any child?

— Yes. Listen. You made whatever point you meant to make. And I don’t care. Now you have to tell me about the tailor game.

— The what game?

— See? Your face just tensed up. You didn’t think I’d remember. Do you remember the measuring tape?

— Yes. The tailor game was also inappropriate.

— Tell me what happened.

— I had a measuring tape and we measured each other’s arms and legs and shoulders.

— You don’t think that’s sick?

— It’s inappropriate.

— I can’t have anyone crouch near me without thinking of you holding that measuring tape against my leg. When people kneel down to tie their shoes anywhere close to me I think of you.

— That couldn’t be my fault.

— Of course it’s your fault! You think I had a problem with all that before you and your fucking tailor game?

— Okay, I’m sorry.

— That’s it? You’re sorry?

— I’m sorry, but tell me this: Did I touch you?

— I have no idea. I assume you did.

— But there you go again. Your mind is filling in what didn’t happen. You’re filling in with what you assume were my intentions. But I never touched any of you kids.

— But you wanted us to touch you .

— That’s not true either.

— You had us measure your inseam, too, you fucker. Why would you have us measure your inseam if you didn’t want us to touch your dick?

— Do you remember touching me there?

— No, but I assume we all did. I remember looking up at you and you were looking at the ceiling, like you could barely contain yourself. You were about to jizz.

— Thomas, I admit it was a little thrill when you would measure my inseam, but I didn’t actually have any of you touch me. I did not touch you and you didn’t touch me. It was all highly inappropriate, yes, no doubt about it. But I was acutely aware of the law, and I did not break any laws. It wasn’t rape. It wasn’t assault. I acted inappropriately, and that’s why they asked me to resign, which I did. And that was the correct punishment. I didn’t belong in a school, and it was decided I should leave, and I did.

— So you went on to do it elsewhere.

— No, I did not. You have to stop making these leaps. I’m not part of some larger narrative. I’m me. I am one person, and my story is absolutely unique. I don’t conform to any established modus operandi. I’m not a priest who was shuffled around from church to church or whatever narrative has been established in your mind. I was asked to resign, and I did, and I was relieved.

— You were relieved ?

— I was. Being around all of you was too much of a temptation. But once I left, the temptations were removed.

— That is really hard to believe.

— But you must believe it. I’m chained to a post, and I’m telling you the truth.

— But it defies belief. It defies all known pathology. A pederast who just reforms himself? It’s not possible.

— Thomas, do you know anything about addiction psychology?

— No.

— Well, this conversation is reminiscent of my time in AA. For a while, probably while dealing with my own proclivities, I was occasionally drinking too much. And my AA friends were convinced I was an alcoholic. They brought me to meetings, and they insisted that I quit drinking for good. But I was not an alcoholic. They couldn’t accept that even though I used alcohol to cope sometimes, it didn’t mean I was out of control or that alcohol was hampering or altering my path through life.