Sophistry
By Jonathan Marc ShermanIn this scene, Jack describes the night that he was sexually molested by his philosophy teacher, Whitey McCoy.
JACK:
This is how it happened... Thanksgiving break, most everybody away from the campus, at home, visiting friends, anything to escape the empty cold of this place during a vacation. Some stayed behind to do work and some stayed behind... just because. I wasn't getting on well with my folks then, I didn't want to go back home. I took Whitey's philosophy course that term. I wanted an extension on a paper. The paper wasn't late yet, I just thought I could do a better job on it if I had a little extra time, another week or so. One night, walking alone down the road, I saw the light in his apartment on. I headed over there. He always told a bunch of us guys to stop by whenever we felt like it, told us he'd give us stuff to eat and drink, whatever. Yeah, it was weird, him being our teacher, but a few times we took him up on it, and it was fine. He'd play music for us and give us beers and grill us sandwiches, fancy, not something simple like peanut butter. We'd always leave early. It could get really depressing. Whitey would get this sad look in his eyes, lonely, and he'd be soused, way drunk, which didn't help. But Thanksgiving night, his light was on, and I figured it was a good idea to ask for an extension. I mean, it was Thanksgiving, you know? I rang his bell, and he came to the door, wearing pajama bottoms and an enormous T-shirt. He'd been drinking. I could smell that, so I said maybe I should come back some other time. But he closed the door after me and locked it. He tried to get me drunk, bring me down to his level. Then he started cursing at me, telling me to take off my clothes. He was very intimidating... I was terrified, the door was locked... He said he'd kill me if I tried to leave. Finally, I obliged. I took off everything but my underpants. I couldn't believe what was happening. I wanted to scream, but I was petrified he'd kill me. His kitchen was fully stocked with sharp knives, hanging and gleaming, the same knives he used when he'd cut our grilled sandwiches. I thought he would cut me. I should have screamed. But who would have heard me? I just kept thinking: How can I live? How can I survive this? Will I have to figure out a way to kill him? Am I going to die? Whitey, please...
I don't know if I can continue talking about... I... this is... you have to understand, this is very hard for me. Very difficult. This was... this is... this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me. It's still... very tough to put it into words. It still makes me ashamed. (Beat.) He... he blew me. He performed oral sex upon me. He wanted me to reciprocate. I wouldn't. I couldn't. I brought him to orgasm... Manually. With my... with my hand. With this hand. It was a compromise. I don't know how I was even able to do that. I was sickened. Once he... finished, he fell asleep... passed out... in a drunken stupor. I was able to escape. And I didn't know what to do. I hated myself. I hated him. I avoided him. Never handed in my philosophy paper. He passed me anyway. He would keep trying to talk to me, keep trying to get me alone with him, but I never let it happen again. I kept my distance. And I kept my mouth shut. Until - until I couldn't keep it inside me any longer. Until now. (Beat.) This is how it happened.
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