by Dave Eggers
—No. I don’t.
—Okay, now you’re defiant again. I heard that about you. I heard you were good. You passed lie detector tests and everything. And the thing is, you really might be innocent. No one knows for sure. That’s why you’re here.
—
—Now you’re not talking. Does it feel weird to be chained to a post?
—
—You really should answer. I haven’t had to use the taser yet, but I would use it on you. You’re the first one I would not mind using it on.
—Sir, what are your plans for me?
—Again, I love the Sir. I really do. But I have to say, that penitent tone makes you seem more guilty. You should consider that.
—Please, will you tell me what your plans are for me?
—My plans are to ask you questions and for you to answer them.
—Okay. And then what?
—And then I let you go.
—You’ll let me go?
—You and the astronaut and everyone else will be let go. I have a real astronaut three buildings over. He’s an honorable man. And I have a former congressman. He gave me the idea to find you, indirectly at least. He’s an honorable man, too. You, though, I don’t know. Well, I do know. You’re not an honorable man. I know that much. At the very best, you’re just sad and twisted. Maybe just lonely. But I think you’re more than that. I think you’re a monster. Now do you know why you’re here?
—I think you should just explain it. I don’t want to guess.
—You don’t want to guess. Okay. Now you just painted yourself into a corner. That means you did other terrible things. You did so many terrible things that you don’t know which of them this is about. That’s what you just revealed to me. You said that you don’t remember what you did to me. That it could be any number of crimes.
—I didn’t say that.
—You didn’t need to.
—Please. Let’s stay specific here. I don’t remember you, but I trust now that you were a student at Miwok Middle School. Were you one of the students who filed a complaint against me?
—Ah, now suddenly you’re all business. Good. You acknowledge that complaints were lodged against you.
—There were seven complaints. Nothing was proven.
—But you left teaching.
—Yes. It was impossible to stay under those circumstances.
—Circumstances you created.
—There was no trial and there was no hearing.
—God, it’s like you have it rehearsed. I guess you have to. If you talk to a cousin or nephew and they ask you why you left teaching, you have to recite this stuff about “allegedly” and “no hearing” and all that. What did you tell your parents?
—My father is dead. But my mother knows the truth.
—“My mother knows the truth”! Wow. That is a revealing comment. What is the truth, Mr. Hansen?
—The truth about what?
—Yes! You are brilliant! You know how to turn it back to me, to make sure you don’t say anything too broad. You don’t want to say, for example, that you didn’t mean to touch that one kid in the bathroom, because maybe I don’t know about that one kid in the bathroom. This is fun, Mr. Hansen! You’re more fun than the others. I have to draw this out. I have to make sure I don’t rush it. Okay, let’s see. Do you remember the late eighties, Mr. Hansen?
—Yes, I remember the late eighties.
—Watch the attitude, Mr. Hansen. You’re tied to a post. You’re ten miles from the nearest highway. I could bludgeon you and you’d never be found. You know this?
—Yes.
—And you’re really the first one in this whole process I would actually hurt. I’m guessing you can tell I don’t have much to lose, right?
—Yes. I can sense that.
—“I can sense that.” That is great. Yes. I’m risking a lot here. Having you and the astronaut and everyone out here. But Jesus, so far, it’s been so worth it. I’ve learned so much. It’s like all the pieces are coming together. The one thing I’m kicking myself about is that I didn’t do this sooner. You should have been brought here sooner. Twenty years ago. You don’t belong with people just like I don’t belong with people.
—I trust you have someone you’re seeing? A professional?
—Don’t talk to me that way. You know I’m making sense. I’ve done an unusual thing here, but I’m not irrational. You know that. Your undergraduate degree was in psychology. But I guess that never means anything.
—No. Not in my case.
—Isn’t that funny, the undergrads who major in psychology? It’s like half of every college, these psych majors. They have no idea why they’re studying psychology. It’s like majoring in faces, or people. “I’m majoring in multiple-choice questions about people.”
—Right.
—See, still with the attitude. You have a smarmy way about you, you know that?
—
—Were you always that way? I can’t remember.
—I don’t know.
—You should be making yourself more appealing, not less, don’t you think?
—I suppose so.
—But even your phrasing is smarmy. “I suppose so.” Who talks like that?
—I can’t help the way I talk.
—Of course you can. Now stop being so smarmy.
—I will try.
—Now that: “I will try.” You really should just say “I’ll try.” Use contractions. Contractions will make you sound more like a regular human being.
—Okay.
—Are you one of those assholes who says either with the long i?
—No.
—That wasn’t convincing. I bet you are. You know who says either with the long i? Assholes.
—Sir, I want to do whatever I can to help you. Why did you bring me here?
—But how can I be surprised that you’re an asshole? I brought you here because you’re an asshole.
—So you were one of the complainants?
—No.
—But you were in my class?
—Yes. Remember me?
—I might if you give me your name.
—No, asshole. But I remember you being the fun teacher. Was that your goal, to seem like the cool one, the fun one?
—I don’t know.
—You dressed like us. Or tried to dress young at least. I remember you wearing Jordache jeans. Do you remember wearing Jordache jeans?
—I don’t know.
—You wear Jordache jeans and don’t remember? That’s not something you forget. That’s a full commitment. They were made for women, so when a man wore them, it was all-out. There was no halfway to those pants. That’s a major life decision you wouldn’t forget. Now tell me if you wore Jordache jeans.
—I believe I did.
—See, where does a worm like you come from? First you wear Jordache jeans. Then you deny it. Then, when you admit it, you say, “I believe I did.”
—Sir, what does this have to do with anything?
—It has everything to do with everything. You were trying to insinuate yourself. You were trying to garner our trust. You were trying to seem like us, our age, harmless, cool.
—I don’t know about that.
—Then you could get the babysitting jobs.
—
—Right?
—
—Do you remember babysitting for Don Banh?
—Yes.
—Good. That was good. A straight answer. You did overnights.
—Yes.
—When their parents were gone for a week or whatever, you would stay with the kids, feed everyone, tuck everyone in at night, sleep over. You remember?
—Yes.
—What were the Banh kids’ names?
—Don, John, Christina, Angelica.
—So you remember them.
—Of course I do.
—Funny how selective your memory is.
—
—Do you remember me coming over
while you babysat?
—No.
—You liked to wrestle. I remember coming over one night and walking into the basement and you were there wrestling with Don and John. You were all sweating.
—
—So why the wrestling, Mr. Hansen?
—Were we clothed?
—What?
—Were we clothed?
—Yes. You were. So what?
—I just want to stick to what happened and what you saw. If we’re going to do this, I want to stick with facts, and not conjecture and insinuation.
—I can’t believe this. You’re on the offensive.
—I’m trying to keep us factual.
—Good. Good, motherfucker. I want to be factual, too. Good.
—So let me ask you a question.
—You’re going to ask me a question?
—May I?
—May you? Mother may you? Fuck yeah, go ahead.
—Did your father ever wrestle with you?
—You weren’t their father.
—But did your father wrestle with you?
—Yes. Probably. I didn’t see him much after I was six.
—And where was the Banhs’ father?
—I don’t know.
—He was gone. I was the primary male presence in their lives.
—So you thought, These poor fatherless boys need a grown-up man to take them into the basement for some sweaty wrestling.
—I did everything a parent would do. When they were in my care, I fed them, got them ready for school, made sure they brushed their teeth. And we played any number of games, including just horsing around.
—You know what? You shouldn’t say that. Horsing around implies things you don’t want to imply. You sound guilty with words like that.
—Thomas, what is it that you think I did?
—Wait. Now you know my name?
—I’ve been scanning my mind, and I found you.
—Oh shit. You are terrifying. The way you said that. “I found you.” Do you know how you sound? I don’t want you using my name.
—That’s fine. But again, what do you think I did?
—The same thing all the complainants said you did.
—Did you ever read the complaints, Thomas?
—I told you not to use my name.
—I’m sorry. Did you read the complaints?
—I read about them.
—What do you think they said?
—That you diddled kids. That you’re a molester.
—Do you really think the complaints said that?
—Yes.
—And if the complaints said that, they would just let me walk away? No charges? No prison?
—It was a different time.
—It might have been a different time, but if I’d been accused of molestation, they would not have allowed me to just retire and live in the next town over.
—So why did you quit teaching?
—I had to quit. The insinuations were distracting to everyone.
—So you quit on your own volition? To save everyone from distraction?
—That’s correct.
—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 c
an 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.