Read The Abstinence Teacher for Free Online

was selling—grimacing, talking in a robotic voice, stressing as often as she could that the curriculum didn’t necessarily reflect her personal opinion—but it didn’t matter much. She still felt dirty at the end of each class, unable to meet her students’ eyes as they filed out of the room.
    “Abstinence is perfectly reasonable in theory,” Gregory said. “It just doesn’t work in practice. It’s like dieting. You can go a day or two, maybe even a week. But eventually that pizza just smells too good.”
    “Just ask Father John,” Randall said.
    “Who’s that?” asked Ruth.
    “The priest who molested him.” Randall looked at Gregory. “What were you, twelve?”
    “Thirteen,” said Gregory.
    “What?” Ruth was taken aback. “You guys are kidding, right?”
    Both men shook their heads.
    “Really?” she said. “By a priest?”
    “Finally.” Randall pumped his fist in mock triumph. “A story we haven’t told her.”
    “Molested is too strong a word,” Gregory said. “I think it’s more accurate to say it was consensual.”
    “Come on,” Randall protested. “Nothing’s consensual when you’re thirteen.”
    “Not technically,” Gregory conceded. “But I did enjoy it. And I certainly volunteered for more.”
    “That’s putting it mildly,” said Randall.
    “Don’t mind him,” Gregory told Ruth. “He’s just jealous.”
    Ruth nodded, trying to look as nonjudgmental as possible. No woman she knew would have admitted to enjoying sexual advances from an authority figure at thirteen, but she had come to believe that certain things really were different for men.
    “He was a cute little altar boy,” Randall said. “The whole thing was such a tawdry cliché.”
    Ruth had no trouble believing this. Even at thirty-eight, with his apple-cheeked face and lank, sandy hair, Gregory still looked like a member of the Vienna Boys’ Choir, despite the weight he’d put on in the past couple of years. At thirteen, he must have been an angel.
    “Father John was a sweet, mixed-up man.” Gregory smiled wistfully at the memory. “He died of AIDS, but none of the parishioners would admit it. To this day, they still call it cancer.”
    “Thirteen’s too young,” Randall insisted. “I agree with the abstinence people on that.”
    “Maybe,” said Gregory. “But the other kids had been calling me a fag since second grade.”
    “So?” Randall said. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
    “I don’t know.” Gregory looked thoughtful. “It was just kind of a relief to make it official.”
    “You were lonely, and he took advantage,” Randall said. “You should at least be able to see it for what it was.”
    “It happened to me,” Gregory snapped. “Not to you. So don’t tell me what it was.”
    “I just don’t think it’s right,” Randall muttered.
    “I guess I wasn’t as lucky as you.” There was an edge in Gregory’s voice that Ruth hadn’t heard before. “I didn’t meet Mr. Perfect on the first day of college and have a storybook romance.”
    “Honey, I’m not criticizing. I’m just trying to make a point.” Randall turned to Ruth. “Don’t you think thirteen’s too young?”
    “Everybody’s different,” Ruth said after a brief hesitation, reluctant to take sides in the dispute. “It’s hard to generalize.”
    “That’s too easy,” Randall shot back. “You’re a mother. Do you want your daughters having sex at thirteen?”
    Ruth shrugged. “I hope they wait till they’re in college. But a lot of people don’t.”
    Gregory pounced. “Did you?”
    Ruth poked at her sag paneer for a moment before answering.
    “I had my first real boyfriend in college,” she said. “There were a couple of weird experiences in high school, but I didn’t really know how to process them.”
    Randall and Gregory traded prurient looks, allies again.
    “Weird experiences,” said Randall. “Now you’ve got our attention.”
    “Come on.” Gregory made a coaxing