Page 473 - A Little Life: A Novel

feel himself getting hot. “You were right,” he said at last, and yawned,
extravagantly. “Good night, Willem.”
For a minute or two, they were quiet. “Jude,” Willem said, gently. “Are

you ever going to tell me about it?”
What could he say, he thought, as he held himself still. Why was Willem
asking about this now? He thought he had been doing such a good job being
normal—but maybe he hadn’t. He would have to try harder. He never had
told Willem about what had happened to him with Brother Luke, but along
with being unable to speak of it, part of him knew he didn’t need to: in the
past two years, Willem had tried to approach the subject through various

directions—through stories of friends and acquaintances, some named,
some not (he had to assume some of these people were creations, as surely
no one person could have such a vast collection of sexually abused friends),
through stories about pedophilia he read in magazines, through various
discourses on the nature of shame, and how it was often unearned. After
each speech, Willem would stop, and wait, as if he were mentally extending

a hand and asking him to dance. But he never took Willem’s hand. Each
time, he would remain silent, or change the subject, or simply pretend
Willem had never spoken at all. He didn’t know how Willem had come to
learn this about him; he didn’t want to know. Obviously the person he
thought he was presenting wasn’t the person Willem—or Harold—saw.
“Why are you asking me this?” he asked.
Willem shifted. “Because,” he said, and then stopped. “Because,” he

continued, “I should’ve made you talk about this a long time ago.” He
stopped again. “Certainly before we started having sex.”
He closed his eyes. “Am I not doing a good enough job?” he asked,
quietly, and regretted the question as soon as he said it: it was something he
would have asked Brother Luke, and Willem was not Brother Luke.
He could tell from Willem’s silence that he was taken aback by the

question as well. “No,” he said. “I mean, yes. But Jude—I know something
happened to you. I wish you’d tell me. I wish you’d let me help you.”
“It’s over, Willem,” he said at last. “It was a long time ago. I don’t need
help.”
There was another silence. “Was Brother Luke the person who hurt you?”
Willem asked, and then, when he was quiet, the seconds ticking past, “Do
you like having sex, Jude?”