JAMIE: Your delivery is…frighteningly crisp. All that stuff about women—how did you read that and think it was empowering?
SHAY: Don said the truth was, men and women were wired differently, and there was no greater power than knowing your true purpose. Accepting your ontological limits was the highest form of freedom. He talked like that, like our professors. I think it made it easier to believe him, because he sounded familiar and confident. I started to think maybe there was a reason for everything that happened to me before college. What if my whole life, I’d been trying to be something I simply couldn’t? Maybe if I accepted my limits, I would be happier.
I can still hear those dead men whispering in my dreams.
JAMIE: What do you mean, “everything that happened before college”？
（Silence.）
JAMIE: Sorry. This is your story.
（Throat clearing.）
What happened next?
SHAY: Clem said she didn’t like the readings, that they reminded her of what her parents’ pastor used to say about women’s duty to obey their husbands. As soon as she said it, a chill went through the room. I could barely bring myself to look at Don, I was so embarrassed. When I did…his face was calm, but that was worse than if he’d yelled, because I had no idea what he’d do next.
He said, “Clementine, this is your old self talking, the one that alienates people. The one no one really loves, if we’re being honest.”
My first instinct was to protest. Because of course I loved Clem. But then I thought—she had almost ruined last weekend, and here she was, at it again. What if Don decided he didn’t want to see us anymore because of her? There was a pit in my stomach, like maybe he was right.
So I didn’t say anything, and neither did Laurel. We let the silence stretch, even though I could tell Clem was waiting for one of us to defend her.
After a moment, Don said, “I promised I’d help you become someone better, but I can’t do that with you questioning me. Do you understand?”
Clem tried to say, “I wasn’t questioning you,” but Don cut her off and said, “Do you understand?”
Clem’s body tensed, and she said, “Yes,” in a quiet voice.
He said, “You need to experience consequences. Do you agree?”
And she actually nodded. I could tell she was frightened. I was scared, too, but there was something else, like a curiosity. This desire to see it happen.
I’m not proud of myself. I hope that’s obvious, but I’m saying it now, before I tell you the rest.
JAMIE: Okay.
SHAY: Don said, “Rachel, go get it from my closet.” She left quickly, but the rest of us sat in silence. I couldn’t look at Clem.
Rachel came back with a belt. Brown leather, worn. He took it and beckoned Clem. At first, I thought she wouldn’t go to him, but she did. He bent her down over his knee. My heart was racing. I looked at Rachel, and her cheeks were flushed. I’d never seen her more excited.
Don lifted up Clem’s dress and pulled her panties down until she was exposed. That by itself was humiliating. But then he looped the belt around his hand and said, “This is how we rewire you. Slowly, over time. Show humility. Tell me you’re sorry.” But before she could, he struck Clem so hard she cried out.
She said, “I’m sorry,” but he hit her with the belt again, and again. I thought he would keep going, but he stopped and looked across the room at Laurel.
He said, “Now you.”
I wanted Laurel to protest, but she took the belt from Don and sat in his chair, waiting for him to settle Clem over her lap. It looked so wrong, like Laurel was playing dress-up, pretending to be her father again. Clem’s face was bright red, and she was crying, but Laurel wasn’t moved. She said, “Tell Don you’re sorry.” And then she struck Clem—again and again, until Don said, “Enough. It’s Shay’s turn.”