He Knew it was Wrong
By Elizavetta Schrijver
10-04-2003
First day of class.
Rita Jones took her seat in the first row
center of the Biology II class. She
rolled her blue eyes as she waited for another boring lecture, which would
start another boring semester at Happy Hope High School. Her summer vacation had been full of
exciting books and personal research assignments. Now that school was back in session she would have less time to
actually learn things.
All of her sixteen years had been full of learning
exciting new things, especially the last few years. She taught herself Latin on her own last year, and this year she
was taking it at HHCC, Happy Hope Community College. Rita used every bit of her 140 IQ by keeping busy. She would graduate next year from both high
school and from college with a two-year degree.
She opened her biology book and had begun
reading it when the professor walked in and wrote something in loud screeching
strokes on the chalkboard. She wondered
when they would upgrade to the new whiteboards that the college had. “This town is so backwards”, she thought,
and she looked up to read what he had loudly written.
Rita had long ago realized the secret to passing any class was to manage the teacher effectively. She not only learned the subject fully, but also became best friends with the teacher. Recommendations from teachers had, and would continue to look good on her resume. She had already been accepted at Yale where she intended on studying in various disciplines until she found the one that best suited her attributes.
Mr. Seymour was talking now. She looked up again to see who her new best
friend would be. He had brown eyes, a
large nose, a pointed chin, and graying brown hair around a small bald
spot. His long-sleeved white shirt covered his protruding stomach and tucked into
his black pants being held up by a black belt.
There was nothing remarkable about the way he dressed. She figured he was 45 or 50. But… there was
liveliness in his eyes, which make her re-adjust his age to 40. She measured him by the chalkboard and he
came out to be 5 feet and 8 inches.
That was barely an inch taller than her. He took a stack of papers from his desk, and he walked past her
dropping a syllabus on the desk in front of her.
His accent, she wasn’t even listening to what the words he was saying meant only how he was saying it at this point, was northern central, maybe Chicago. He must have moved here recently from there since she hadn’t seen him around last semester. She wondered why he moved to the small Floridian town of Happy Hope. She couldn’t think of any reason anyone would want to move here. She finally started listening to the words he was saying and what they meant to her in the context of a classroom situation.
“… lowest test grade will be dropped. There is no curve. My number is on the syllabus and I am available during the marked
times below my number. If you feel you
need extra help with this course I do offer tutoring. But my time is limited.
Please open your books to page fourteen.“
She smiled.
There was something special about this teacher, something hidden and
lurking under the drab exterior. She
wanted to know him and make him like her back.
Making him like her would be her new challenge. She began to pay attention to page fourteen,
which was an introduction to Biology II.
She came in and sat down before him. She was young, pretty, light brown hair in a
ponytail, which ended an inch just below her shoulders, boring gray -not too
tight- shirt and jeans. All the details
were a lost on Jared Seymour. He longed
to be alone which is why he moved to Happy
Hope. This small town in central
Florida seemed the perfect escape from the fast-paced
life of Chicago where he had taught for fifteen years. He was not sure why he still offered
tutoring. He had long ago stopped caring about the young “brains of mush” which
attended his classes.
When she had made the appointment, which raised her above the others because students usually didn’t do that, she said in a perky voice, but not too high to be annoying she wanted a tutor because “Biology was such an interesting subject.” Now she had a big smile and said, “I’d like to have additional tutorage during the week. I’d like to be given extra assignments that I can work on and during our time together you can give me direction and guidance. “
Jared wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or
delighted. He had never met a student
who wanted extra work. He was now
paying attention to this girl.
“What did you say your name was?” he asked.
“Jones, Rita Jones, sir.” She responded without frustration even though she had repeated her name three times during the phone call, and then again when she walked in. She wondered if he even had written her name and the appointment down.
“Well Rita, I have never had to put extra
assignments together. Let’s see how you
do with the normal assignments in class before we give you anymore. “ His voice
was condescending and trite; he still wasn’t sure about her.
She seemed to take this comment in stride
and said, “That’s fine sir. What will
the first class assignment be?” He
turned around and shuffled through a pile of papers, and then he returned with
one.
“This is the assignment sheet. You can get a head start since you are so
motivated,” he said.
“That’s me sir, motivated. That’s what everyone tells me. I have been accepted to Yale,” she said
without showing any excitement or pride about it. He was quite surprised by this fact and wondered what he should
do or say. He didn’t like people and
didn’t like being confronted with situations where he wasn’t in control.
As a teacher his job was controlling all
aspects of his class and which showed in his life outside school. When he was caught off guard it was hard for
him to get his bearings back. He
realized that he felt intimidated by Rita and what she was saying to him. Seeing as he
wasn’t sure how to handle this new situation of a student who was clearly
brilliant and longing for extra work, he decided to do what he did best.
He decided to give orders. “Start on this assignment and when you
finish it, I’ll review it to determine if you are worth my time. Creating more assignments will be difficult
and time consuming. I don’t have time
to waste. Have a good day, Miss Jones,” he said briskly. And he looked back at his computer. She felt confused about what just
happened. No one had ever responded to
her like this. Everyone always loved
her. She first felt a flair of anger,
then of hope. This was a real challenge
she realized. She smiled and left
without a word.
He is tortured by her and wonders what to
do.
After several weeks, Jared had to admit to
himself that she was incredible. Rita
had a tight hold on him. Everything he given
her she excelled at. He gave her
complex projects hoping to regain a sense of superiority, but he could not be
relieved. One day after finishing an
intense hour of deep discussion of the anatomy of the lotus, she told him she
has to go to a Latin class at HHCC.
This interested him even more in her; he wondered what else she had
hidden in that (oh he shouldn’t think like that) pretty head of hers.
A few more weeks of school and he started
having thoughts about her- bad thoughts.
He imagined her as his assistant.
They would go into the dark jungles of South America searching, finding,
publishing and receiving accolades for finding new species of insects and
birds. He dreamed they would be sitting
next to a pale fire in the jungle, all alone, no other humans for miles, no one
to interrupt their blessed conversations.
It would be just them talking deep into the night about everything. When these thoughts started coming into his
head he would push them away by remembering he quit fieldwork because it was
too hard to find funding. But then he
started thinking about how dynamic Rita was.
He figured she would be able to get funding with her charisma. But it was wrong to think about her that
way, he realized. She was only
sixteen! She was a child. No, she was very much not a child, he
reasoned. She was a woman with an intellect far beyond any woman he had ever
met. She was perfect, absolutely
perfect for him, he concluded.
After a few more tortured weeks of wondering
what to do, he decided to talk to her about it. He would ask if she wanted to do field research with him. He would describe the kind of work it was
and the possible glory from it. He was
nervous because he was afraid she would reject him. He was sure she liked him as much as he liked her. She always was excited when she came to his
office and she had made arrangements for them to do things besides biology
together. Last week they went to a
museum together. This week they were
going to attend a lecture on the ancient Inca scientists.
When she came in the
following Thursday, she started talking about the progress she had made. “Rita, I can tell you really enjoy this
field. Can I talk to your future for a
few minutes before we get into the work?” He said.
“Ok,” she said cautiously.
“Fifteen years ago I used to be a field biologist. I camped out in jungles searching marshes for new species. It was the most exciting work you can imagine. I am planning on doing it again in the not too distant future. I sincerely believe that you have the talent that I… that is needed to succeed in biology.” He stopped here and looked at her for a reaction, but she was still looking at him cautiously.
“What would you think about living in the jungle for weeks on end?” he asked.
She was looking out the window behind him
searching for something. He looked but
didn’t see anything but the parking lot.
“Jungles sound interesting. What are you suggesting?” She asked while
looking out into the blue sky. Then she
turned and looked right into his brown eyes and waited for an answer.
He was quiet. His heart was racing. He
couldn’t breath. Why did he feel like
this? Were the feelings he had for her
more than just an appreciation of her mind?
Why was he so nervous when he was around her? Why did he think about her constantly? Why did he look forward to her coming in to his classroom and
into his office with such excitement?
Why did he care so much? He was
unable to speak anymore about it and decided to change the subject.
“How did those samples come out?” he said in
a voice above a whisper. He realized his vocal cords must have tensed up.
“No, what did you want to ask me?” she said. She was very curious. She had never seen him sweat like this. She could tell that whatever was on his mind was very important to him. She was nervous too, but she didn’t know why.
“Tell me.
It’s ok. We are friends right?”
she said reassuringly.
“Rita, I think that you are the most amazing
woman I have ever met.” He
stammered. She started to say
something, but he held up his sweaty palm and she stopped. He continued, “I think you’d be a wonderful
assistant to me in my fieldwork. We
could be a team. You could help me get
funding and we could sit under the stars and talk. We could learn new things together.”
Rita flushed red. It was the most flattering thing anyone had ever said to
her. She had come to greatly admire Mr.
Seymour and enjoyed their conversations immensely. She found in him a person she could talk to about her ideas and
he would give her honest feedback. Her
future held so many possibilities. She
wasn’t sure what she should do. She had
to think about this new development seriously.
Rita is torn up
and can’t figure out what to do.
The grass along the highway was short but
still offered some resistance to her bike tires. She pushed harder and felt the burn in her thigh muscles. The people in the cars driving by her on her
right did not know the anguish she was in.
She pedaled harder as if to escape from the decision she had to
make. She was glad for the physical
activity. It was real; she could feel
it; she could do something about it; there wasn’t any uncertainty in it. Up ahead was a boardwalk she had seen many
times from the car. She knew she had to
go there and sit down till she figured out what to do.
The knot in her stomach tightened every time
she thought about what he had said.
Could he possibly have realized the effect his words had on her? A new flush of acid ran though her abdomen
when she remembered the conversation.
He had been so hard on her, and now he was different. He really liked her and he thought she had
talent. It was a thrill to her to be so
well thought of by a man so clearly brilliant.
Winning his admiration was her goal from the start. It was the best prize she had ever
imagined. For so many weeks she had
thought it was impossible. But he
really did like her. She felt
butterflies. Doing field research would
be an experience of a lifetime. She
totally enjoyed her time with Mr. Seymour and she knew she could learn so much
from him. Then her stomach turned sour as she thought about Yale.
Yale had been her plan for a year. Once she had something in mind she didn’t like letting go. Determination and perseverance had gotten her this far. Making impulsive decisions was not something she did. Going to Yale and studying under their superior instructors excited her just as much as going to the jungles. She was well a head of other people her age so taking some time off wouldn’t be that bad. She started to allow the possibility of not going to Yale immediately after high school creep into her mind. Doing the field research would give her the experience to make the academic study at Yale even more rewarding. She smiled and then realized the boardwalk was closer.
Then another thought struck her and she started to pant for air. What if Mr. Seymour had other intentions? What if his intentions were romantic in nature? She could barely breath. She gasped and pedaled harder going down a gentle slope from the highway to the boardwalk. The wheels rolled through the thick grass and up onto the side walk. What if he meant he wanted her as a wife when he said she was the most amazing woman? This new thought had to be processed. It was one thing to spend several weeks with him in a tent as scientific partners, it was quite another to spend those weeks together as scientific lovers.
She needed to evaluate how she thought about
him romantically. Never having a
boyfriend before she wasn’t experienced in romance. She tried to think about this rationally. Boys had always been a source of irritation
to her so she never paid attention to them, but she did like a boy now and then
secretly hoping he would smile at her.
It never went further than that. It’s not that she was shy; she was just
too busy. Romance was a waste of time
in her mind.
Occasionally she would watch a romantic
movie and feel that love would be something nice to have. The girls around her were in cycles of going
out with a boy then being dumped or dumping him. They would cry on her shoulder and she would try to comfort
them. It was totally ridiculous to her,
but she kept that thought to her self.
Boys would ask her out from time to time, but she always turned them
down thinking it was an insulting for them to even ask. But this was different; this was a man she
greatly admired. He was someone who
seemed to understand her. Perhaps this
was the kind of man she could love.
She got off her bike and sat down on the boardwalk letting her legs dangle off the sides. There was a little bit of water but mostly mud about ten feet below her. A squirrel ran across the trunk of a fallen oak. The oak’s root system was right beneath her. She climbed over the balustrade and onto the thick hard dirt, which clung to the exposed roots. It held her and she carefully walked down the roots to the trunk. Balancing on the trunk she walked along it until she found a place to sit. Against a large branch that rose half way up the trunk she leaning her back and relaxed.
Ants of various sizes and colors were busy looking for food. She studied them. Could she love him? What else did they have in common besides science? Could they have a relationship based on purely intellectual intercourse? What about food, music, relaxing? What else did they have in common? Also he was so much older. What kind of energy level could he have being so old? Could he go biking with her? Did he go to bed early? She had to decide what love could be based on. She wondered if the butterfly feeling she had when she thought of him was love.
She thought about living with a man such as him. Waking up each morning looking into his
bright brown eyes. She could tell him
all her thoughts and he would tell her this.
The idea excited her. She would
like that. Right then her mindset
changed. This was it. He was to be her love. She blocked out the doubts of compatibility
and rode her bike back home.
“We don’t have an appointment today,” he said. She wondered why he was being so formal. He did love her right? He had to. He wanted to marry her. Her heart was racing wildly. She tried to control her breathing, but it wasn’t working.
“I wanted to talk to you about something we talked about yesterday.” She said slowly. She had never been this nervous in her whole life. She began to fiddle with the buttons on her green blouse. She hoped if she didn’t look at him it would be easier.
“Ok,” he said calmly. Last night he had decided to back off and let her decide things on her own. She was only sixteen he was thinking over and over. In two years she would be legally available for, perhaps, oh he shouldn’t think like this, for a romantic relationship. But in the meantime they could work together. He’d have to be very careful so that, nothing inappropriate would happen. He hadn’t given much thought, because it was a dangerous subject, the idea of a romance. But he realized that it was what he wanted, shame on him. Now here she was, obviously very nervous, and looking very pretty, he thought, no bad thought, bad bad thoughts. He looked at the pretty green blouse with buttons. There were lots of buttons.
She wasn’t saying anything. He noticed this after some time. He took a deep breath. “Well, why don’t you just tell me what is on
your mind, Rita?” he said in his professor voice. He hoped it would detach him from this situation because he could
feel himself loosing control.
“Umm... Mr. Seymour. What you said yesterday. Well, I’ve been thinking about it. Umm… it’s a super opportunity. Umm… I’d really like to go with you. But I wanted to tell you something else.”
She wasn’t looking at him. Instead she was playing with the button on her jeans. Why was she doing that? It was very wrong of her. He tried to control his breathing by thinking about… what could he think about? What did she want??
“I really like you, Mr. Seymour. And I think you are the most amazing man I
have ever met,” she said quickly. “What
I want to tell you is that I, that I, umm… I love you.” She quickly got up and leaned over the desk,
and before he could push his chair back she kissed him. He put his hands firmly on her shoulders and
pushed her away. She opened her closed
eyes and starred at him confused.
“No, you are only sixteen. We cannot do this. I’ll go to jail for a long time. No no no.” he continued to say but he didn’t let her go. She was still leaning towards him with the
full weight of her body now.
“I will never tell! It will be our
secret. I promise. When I graduate next spring you and I will
go to the jungle. No one will know!” she said desperately.
“You are only sixteen; you are but a
child.” He said his voice weakening as
he gazed into her watery blue eyes.
“I am not a child, and you know that.” She pushed his hand away from her and climbed on the desk. Paper scattered on the floor, and she sat down in front of him. She stared at him, her feet dangling over the edge of the desk. He put his hand over his face. She reached across him and pulled the Venetian blinds cord to let the blinds down. When she did she fell off the desk into his lap. She was thin and felt light in his arms. He clasped her and hugged her tight. She hugged him back. Then they were both on the floor under his desk panting. It was over fast.
They were both still lying on the floor
starring at the underside of the desk.
It had bubble gum stuck in one of the corners. In the other corner were the words, “Mr. Johnson sux ass.” Rita concentrated on those words. No, she couldn’t. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She tried to stop them.
“Are you ok?” he asked. He got up on
his side and looked at her.
“I, I am fine. It was my first time.” She stammered wishing she was far far
away. He touched her hair which was
damp with sweat. He looked into her
eyes. Something had changed. She had been a virgin. He had, in five minutes, stolen her
purity. The weight of that idea
suddenly hit him. He felt filthy. He was totally disgusted with himself. He had to get her out of here. He never wanted to see her again.
He got up and zipped up his pants as fast as
he could. “You should go. I am really sorry about this.” He said coldly trying to figure out how to
make her leave. Her presence was painful for
him.
“Ok...ok. I’ll go.” She said as she slipped into her jeans, which were at her knees. She dried her eyes and looked into his. She could tell something had changed. He wasn’t smiling. She suddenly felt the coldness coming from him, and she wanted to be away from him. “Well, I love you?” she said questioningly.
“Ok, good bye.” He said not looking at her.
At the door she looked back at him.
Then she left.
Rita sat in her room crying
incessantly. Her mother could not do
anything to comfort her only daughter.
It had been a week since Rita and Mr. Seymour had sex on the floor of his
office. She had gone to class the next
morning as usual, but he did not look at her.
She would raise her hand in class, but he did not call on her. After class she went up to him and said,
“How are you today?”
“Class is over now. You are dismissed.”
“Why are you being like this?” she said in
desperation. She watched the last boy
leave the classroom then she said, “I love you so much. You are everything to
me. Don’t act like this.”
Mr. Seymour stared at the quizzes in front
of him and did not look up at her.
“You should leave.” He said.
“Why don’t you love me?” she asked as tears rolled down her face.
“What did I do wrong? I thought everything was going to be wonderful. What did
I do wrong?”
Tears welled up in his eyes. He could not look at her. When he did he saw the carnal knowledge he
had given her. He saw how he had
violated her absolute trust of him. He
was the adult, and she was the child.
He had lost control, and now a young life was ruined. A tear rolled down his cheek.
“You should go and enjoy your
childhood. Stop studying so much. Go to a movie with one of the boys from
school, someone your own age. “ He said
while another one dropped.
“No. I only want you.” She said sobbing.
“I don’t want to see you anymore. You need to forget about me. Have some fun.” He said this as he got up and left the classroom. She watched him and broke down into hysterical sobs. She ran home and locked herself in her room and cried all night.
A week later she was still crying. She decided this was the end. He didn’t love her. For a while she was hoping that he’d come back
and tell her that he was sorry. Now she
knew it was really over. All her life
she had worked so hard to be good enough.
Now she knew she wasn’t good enough.
She had failed. He told her to
be a child. No. She wasn’t even a child. She was worthless. Life held nothing for her now.
Over and over she had thought about this since then. But now it was
time, time to end it. She had to end
the misery. The failure was
unacceptable. He did not love her.
She went into the bathroom
with the knife. Tears ran down her
tired face. Her eyes were so sore. She
sat down in the full bathtub. As she
cut she watched the water turn bloody red, and she sat back with the
satisfaction that she had finally done something right.
He resigned from the school the morning he
heard she had been admitted to the hospital.
He had called the nurse and told her he was an uncle to find out that
she was there because she had attempted suicide. After finding out that she was in stable condition he wrote a letter
to the principal telling him that he could no longer stay, and he packed his
office. He knew Rita would never tell
anyone, but he wished she would. She
would keep it inside. Feeling so much
guilt and agony, which was now compiled by the suicide attempt he went home and
called the moving truck.
One day, he reassured himself, one day she’d
be ok again. He’d never be ok
again. No, he wouldn’t be ok.