The Schopenhauer Cure(60)
Then, when Pam’s glance fell on Philip, darkness descended. Her smile and the cheery crinkles around her eyes vanished. Thinking she was jarred by the presence of a stranger in the group, Julius quickly offered an introduction, “Pam, this is our new member, Philip Slate.”
“Oh, it’s Slate?” said Pam, pointedly not looking at Philip. “Not Philip Sleaze? Or Slimeball? She glanced at the door. “Julius, I don’t know if I can stay in the room with this asshole!”
The stunned group members looked back and forth from the agitated Pam to the entirely silent Philip. Julius stepped in. “Fill us in, Pam. Please sit.”
As Tony pulled another chair into the group, Pam said, “Not next to him.” (The empty seat was next to Philip.) Rebecca immediately stood and guided Pam to her seat.
After a brief silence, Tony said, “What’s going on, Pam?”
“God, I can’t believe this—is this some monstrous joke? This is the last thing in the world I wanted. Never wanted to see this rodent again.”
“What is going on?” asked Stuart. “What about you, Philip? Say something. What’s going on?”
Philip remained silent and shook his head slightly. But his face, now flushed, said volumes. Julius noted to himself that Philip had a functioning autonomic nervous system after all.
“Try to talk, Pam,” urged Tony. “You’re among friends.”
“Of all the men I’ve ever known, this creature has treated me the worst. And to come home to my therapy group and find him sitting here—it’s beyond belief. I feel like bawling or screaming, but I won’t—not with him here.” Lapsing into silence, Pam looked down, slowly shaking her head.
“Julius,” said Rebecca, “I’m getting tense. This is not good for me. Come on, what’s going on?”
“Obviously, there’s been a former life between Pam and Philip, and, I assure you, that comes as a total surprise to me.”
After a short silence, Pam looked at Julius and said, “I’ve been thinking so much about this group. I’ve been so eager to come back here, been rehearsing what I would tell you about my trip. But, Julius, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this. I don’t want to stay.”
She stood and turned toward the door. Tony jumped up and took her hand.
“Pam, please. You can’t just leave. You’ve done so much for me. Here, I’ll sit next to you. You want me to take him out?” Pam smiled faintly and let Tony 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.”