We Need to Talk About Kevin_ A Novel - Lionel Shriver [186]
“It’s gone too far,” I said.
“What’s gone too far, Eva? Cut to the chase.”
I licked my lips. “It used to have mostly to do with us. My wall of maps. Then later, it was little things—eczema. But it’s bigger now—Celia’s eye; a teacher’s career. I can’t keep looking the other way. Not even for you.”
“If that lady’s career is on the line, she has only herself to blame.”
“I think we should consider sending him to boarding school. Somewhere strict, old-fashioned. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe even a military academy.”
“Whoa! Our son has been sexually abused, and your answer is to banish him to boot camp? Jesus, if some creep were interfering with Celia you’d be down at the police station right now, filling out forms! You’d be on the phone to the New York Times and ten victim-support groups, and never mind a school in Annapolis—you’d never let her leave your lap!”
“That’s because if Celia said someone had messed with her, the situation would be far more grave than she let on. Celia is more likely to let some dirty old geez finger her for years because she doesn’t want to get the nice man in trouble.”
“I know what’s behind this: typical double standard. A girl gets pawed at and it’s ooh terrible put the sicko away. But a woman paws all over a boy and it’s gosh, lucky kid, gets his first taste, bet he really enjoyed it! Well, just because a boy responds—from physical reflex—doesn’t mean it can’t be a degrading, humiliating violation!”
“Professionally,” I said, pressing an index finger patiently to my forehead, “I may have been fortunate, but I’ve never thought of myself as all that bright. Kevin came by his intelligence from somewhere. So you must have at least considered the possibility that this whole thing was a sadistic frame-job.”
“Just because Lenny Pugh’s horning in on the show was bogus—”
“Lenny didn’t ‘horn in,’ he just didn’t learn his lines. He’s lazy, and a lousy drama student, apparently. But Kevin clearly put the other boys up to it.”
“Balls—!”
“He didn’t have to call her ‘ugly.’” I shuddered, remembering. “That was twisting the knife.”
“Some nympho seduces our own son, and the only person you care about—”
“He made one mistake, did you notice? He said she locked the door. Then he claimed he ‘ran out’ after she had her way with him. Those doors don’t even lock, you know, from the inside. I checked.”
“Big deal she didn’t literally lock it! He obviously felt trapped. More to the point, why in God’s name would Kevin make that story up?”
“I can’t say.” I shrugged. “But this certainly fits.”
“With what?”
“With a wicked and dangerous little boy.”
You looked at me clinically. “Now, what I can’t figure is whether you’re trying to hurt me, or hurt him, or if this is some confused self-torture.”
“This evening’s witch trial was excruciating enough. We can knock out self-torture.”
“Witches are mythical. Pedophiles are real as sin. One look at that loon and you could tell she was unstable.”
“She’s a type,” I said. “She wants them to like her. She courts their favor by breaking the rules, by choosing racy plays and saying fuck in class. She may even like the idea of their ogling her a bit, but not at this price. And there’s nothing illegal about being pathetic.”
“He didn’t say she spread her legs and begged like Lenny Pugh, did he? No, she got a little carried away and crossed a line. He even kept his pants on. I could see it happening. That’s what convinced me. He wouldn’t make that part up about through his jeans.”
“Interesting,” I said. “That’s exactly how I knew he was lying.”
“Lost me.”
“Through his jeans. It was calculated authenticity. The believability was crafted.”
“Let’s get this straight. You don’t believe his story because it’s too believable.”
“That’s right,” I agreed evenly. “He may be scheming and malicious, but his English teacher is right. He’s sharp as a tack.”
“Did he seem as if he wanted to testify?”
“Of course not. He’s a genius.”
Then it happened. When you collapsed into the chair opposite, you did not come to a dead halt only because I