Seduction

I keep thinking of being on that bus with Jessica, Dr. Kelley, and dozens of others. Coming back from hearing a choir of boys in a chapel near the place the queen of Scots was beheaded. Twilight there was 10:30 pm and Jessica and I sat next to each other, happy that we were sitting behind Dr. K. I sang "Hey Jude," tried teaching J. the lyrics.

Hey Jude
Don't make it bad
you were made to
go out and get her
Remember to let her into your heart
then you can start to make it better

I hoped he was listening to us, but I soon forgot any self-consciousness, just enjoying whispering the song with Jessica, the darkness, the peace from feeling. Back then, when I was young and carefree (five years later seems an eternity) I felt things so much more--everything was enflamed by virtue of my sensitivity & innocence. I had all these dreams that I was certain would happen--my neck had been cupped by gentle hands, I'd been called a swan--all men were interesting to me, but especially Dr. Kelley.

Just before I left, the day the picture of he and I was snapped, he told me that many things had happened that summer, but the one moment he would never forget was sitting in front of me, listening to me sing Hey Jude on that bus.

I didn't know he was listening, that he'd remembered that. At the moment he said it, I thought it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me. I left England heartsick. I had found the one I wanted, but he was married and time passes on.

A year later, I was killing myself trying to find myself. Love was lost. I gave Professor X. a lapdance, kissed him and unbuttoned his pants. I was still in his class. I led him to a dorm room. I fondled him. I wanted to have sex with him, to finally let my virginity go. I was desperate for power, and I felt I held the power of seduction over him, over many men. This feeling led me to some bad behavior. Manipulation, lies.

And all the while, the person I really wanted played dumb. I still want him. It's infuriating, this powerlessness. I don't know that I believe in love like I used to, at least not for me. I have an almost bottomless capacity for love, and I'm not sure that anyone can handle this. People are afraid of love. It obligates them. It traps them. This man I want is stuck in his world. I'm stuck in mine. If I ever had the nerve to tell him how much I care about him, as I did once before to someone else who threw my love away, wouldn't he do the same thing?

Are you reading this? Don't you know who you are?