“The way he looked. His hair, it was always falling in his eyes, but did he care? He just threw his head back a little to flip it out of the way. He could do that a hundred times. He didn’t care. He was never changing his hair, cutting it. He didn’t care what anybody thought.”

“And you liked that, that he didn’t care.”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“What else?”

“I also liked his hands, his long fingers. Even though they always had tomato sauce and dough on them. But he acted like … like he was a prince in a castle wearing royal robes. Nobody could look down on him. He looked down on everybody, understand?”

He nodded, staring down at his desk, tapping his pencil.

“He was a joker, too. Made me, all of us girls, laugh. And when he smiled, he had white, beautiful teeth.”

“You liked when he smiled at you.”

She nodded shyly. “I liked that he liked me.”

“And he knew you liked him?”

“Yes. I was there all the time. So he started to send me notes. When I ordered a pizza, there would be a piece of paper underneath the crust.”

“Clever. What did they say, the notes?”

“Times and places where he wanted to meet.”

“And this didn’t upset you, frighten you? You weren’t insulted, a good Bais Yaakov girl?”

“No. Why should it? To tell you the truth, I was happy. Excited.”

“What did you think would happen at these meetings?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t think about it. I was curious. I just wanted to be with him. To feel what it would be like to have him to myself.”

“And for him to have you to himself,” he murmured, not looking up. “Tell me about it, about the meetings. That is, if you want to.”

She liked this new Yoel Grub, who put her completely at ease, making her feel no pressure at all, making her feel that whatever happened in this office, she was in control, and it was what she wanted. Maybe she had dreamed the last session? A nightmare?

And so, she began to tell him what had happened.

“At first, we just talked. He made a lot of jokes. I didn’t even notice he had an arm behind me on the park bench, like he was just resting it there. And then somehow, his arm moved, and his hand … it was resting on my shoulder. That was it, for a while. But each time we met, he got closer to me.”

“Physically, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“He touched you?”

She nodded, ashamed.

“And you didn’t tell him to stop?”

“I did sometimes, but then he would get angry and get up and threaten to leave.”

“So you gave in?”

She nodded.

“And then what did he do?”