lead her back to her seat. Gill changed chairs to open the adjoining seat for Tony.
«I`m with Tony. I want to help,” said Julius. «We all do. But you`ve got to
let us help you, Pam. Obviously, there`s been history, bad history, between you
and Philip. Tell us, talk about it—otherwise our hands are tied.»
Pam nodded slowly, closed her eyes and opened her mouth, but no words
came. Then she stood and walked to the window, rested her forehead against the
pane, and waved off Tony, who had started toward her. She turned, took a couple
of deep breaths, and began speaking in a disembodied voice: «About fifteen years
ago, my girlfriend Molly and I wanted to have a New York experience. Molly had
lived next door to me since childhood and was my best friend. We had just
finished our freshman year at Amherst and enrolled together for summer classes
at Columbia. One of our two courses was on the pre–Socratic philosophers, and
guess who was the TA?»
«TA?» asked Tony.
«Teaching assistant,” interjected Philip softly but instantaneously, speaking
for the first time in the session. «The TA is a graduate student who assists the
professor by leading small discussion groups, reading papers, grading exams.»
Pam seemed staggered by Philip`s unexpected comment.
Tony answered her unspoken question: «Philip`s the official answer man
here. Put out a question and he answers it. Sorry, once you got started, I should
have kept my mouth shut. Go on. Can you join us here in the circle?»
Pam nodded, went back to her seat, closed her eyes again, and continued:
«So fifteen years ago I was at Columbia summer school with Molly, and this man,
this creature, sitting here was our TA. My friend Molly was in a bad place: she
had just broken up with her long–term boyfriend. And no sooner did the course
begin than this...this excuse for a man»—she nodded toward Philip—«starts
hitting on her. Remember that we were only eighteen, and he was the teacher—
oh, a real professor showed up for two formal lectures a week, but the TA was
really in charge of the course, including our grades. He was slick. And Molly was
vulnerable. She fell for him and for about a week was in a state of bliss. Then one
Saturday afternoon, he phones me and asks me to meet with him about an exam
essay I had written. He was smooth and ruthless. And I was just stupid enough to
be manipulated, and next thing I knew I was naked on the sofa in his office. I was
an eighteen–year old virgin. And he was into rough sex. And he did it again to me
a couple of days later, and then the pig dropped me, wouldn`t even look at me,
didn`t seem to recognize me, and, worst of all, offered no explanation for
dropping me. And I was too scared to ask—he had the power—he did the grading.
That was my introduction to the bright wonderful world of sex. I was devastated,
so enraged, so ashamed...and...worst of all, so guilty about betraying Molly. And
my view of myself as an attractive woman took a nosedive.»
«Oh, Pam,” said Bonnie shaking her head slowly. «No wonder you`re in
shock now.»
«Wait, wait. You haven`t heard the worst about this monster.» Pam was
revved up. Julius glanced around the room. Everyone was leaning forward,
fixated on Pam, except of course Philip, whose eyes were closed and who looked
as though he were in a trance.
«He and Molly were a couple for another two weeks and then he dropped
her, just told her he was no longer having fun with her and was going to move on.
That was it. Inhuman. Can you believe a teacher saying that to a young student?
He refused to say any more or even help her move the things she had left at his
flat. His parting gesture was to give her a list of the thirteen women he had
screwed that month, many of them in the class. My name was at the top of the
list.»
«He didn`t give her that list,” Philip said, eyes still closed. «She found it
when burglarizing his living space.»
«What sort of depraved creature would even write such a list?» Pam shot
back.
Again in a disembodied voice, Philip responded, «The male hardwiring
directs them to spread their seed. He was neither the first nor the last to take an
inventory of the fields he had plowed and planted.»
Pam turned her palms up to the group, shook her head, and muttered, «You
see,” as if to indicate the bizarreness of this particular life–form. Ignoring Philip,
she continued: «There was pain and destruction. Molly suffered tremendously,
and it was a long long time before she trusted another man. And shenever trusted
me again. That was the end of our friendship. Shenever forgave my betrayal. It
was a terrible loss for me and, I think, for her as well. We`ve tried to pick it up—
even now we e–mail occasionally, keeping each other informed of major life
events—but she`s never, ever, been willing to discuss that summer with me.»
After a long silence, perhaps the longest the group ever sat through, Julius
spoke: «Pam, how awful to have been broken like that at eighteen. The fact that
you never spoke of this to me or the group confirms the severity of the trauma.
And to have lost a lifelong friend in that way! That`s truly awful. But let me say
something else. It`sgood you stayed today. It`s good you talked about it. I know
you`re going to hate my saying this, but perhaps it`s not a bad thing for you that
Philip is here. Maybe there is some work, some healing that can be done. For both
of you.»
«You`re right, Julius—Ido hate your saying that, and, even more, I hate
having to look at this insect again. And here he is in my own cozy group. I feel
defiled.»
Julius`s head spun. Too many thoughts clamored for his attention. How
much could Philip bear? Evenhe had to have a breaking point. How much longer
before he would walk out of the room, never to return? And, as he imagined
Philip`s departure, he contemplated its consequences—on Philip but primarily on
Pam: she mattered far more to him. Pam was a great–souled lady, and he was
committed to helping her find a better future. Would she be well served by
Philip`s departure? Perhaps she`d have some measure of revenge—but what a
pyrrhic victory! If I could find a way, Julius thought, to help Pam reach
forgiveness for Philip, it would heal her—and perhaps Philip as well.
Julius almost flinched when the buzzwordforgiveness passed through his
mind. Of all the various recent movements swirling through the field of therapy,
the hullabaloo around «forgiveness» annoyed him the most. He, like every
experienced therapist, hadalways worked with patients who could not let things
go, who nurtured grudges, who could find no peace—and he hadalways used a
wide variety of methods to help his patients «forgive»—that is, detach from their
anger and resentment. In fact, every experienced therapist had an arsenal of
«letting–go» techniques they often used in therapy. But the simplistic and canny
«forgiveness» industry had magnified, elevated, and marketed this one single
aspect of therapy into the whole shebang and presented it as though it were
something entirely novel. And the ploy had garnered respectability by implicitly
melding with the current social and political forgiveness climate addressing a
range of such offenses as genocide, slavery, and colonial exploitation. Even the
Pope had recently begged forgiveness for the Crusaders` thirteenth–century
sacking of Constantinople.
And if Philip bolted, how wouldhe, as the group therapist, feel? Julius was
resolved not to abandon Philip, yet it was difficult to locate any compassion
toward him. Forty years before, as a young student, he had heard a lecture by