Best Served Cold (22 page)

“All right.” Dr. Turner smiled and tilted her head. “Shoot.”

“This is a story that’s going to be recognizable to most students on campus. But the submitter wanted us to use names, too. Make it clear exactly who the guy was. Is, I mean. Lose the anonymity.”

“Aha.” She pursed her lips. “Go on. Why does this person want to be open about the names? Keeping it private was one of the conditions of your site, I thought.”

“Well, it is. But she wanted—or needed, maybe—closure, and she thought this might be the way to get it. The guy who did it, who hurt her, he hasn’t ever apologized or even admitted he was wrong. I guess maybe she thought this was a way to show him how she felt. Make him feel her pain.”

“Mmmmhmmm.” Dr. Turner tapped her fingers on the desk. “So we’re talking revenge here.”

I flushed and kept my eyes to the carpet. “I suppose so.”

“Ah.” She sighed, running her hands over the neat bun of black hair at the back of her head. “Well, I don’t think that’s unexpected, given the name of the blog. It was only a matter of time. It’s a fine line between providing a forum for people to share and giving them an outlet for...well, retribution.”

“So do you think I shouldn’t do it?”

“Ms. Cole, I’m not here to be your journalistic conscience. I’m teaching you, or at least I hope I am, to develop your own.” She looked into the distance, over my shoulder. “It’s hard when it’s personal, isn’t it?”

My heart beat a little faster. “Um, I’m sorry?”

She smiled, her eyes full of understanding. “Students tend to think the gossip stays within their own body. But we professors hear a good deal more than you give us credit for. Maybe I’m making a leap, but I know what happened in December. Unless I am far less perceptive than I credit myself, I don’t think you’re discussing someone else’s story here. I think you’re talking about your own.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Dr. Turner. I wasn’t trying to lie to you, I just wanted to have a little distance--”

“Then take a look at that distance. If this were in fact another submitter, writing to you with the request that you publish her story complete with names, what would you tell her?”

I took a deep breath. “I guess I would tell her it’s not our policy, and ask her why she felt it was important.”

“Which is what I asked you. And you mentioned the need for closure.” She rolled her eyes, and my mouth dropped.

“I happen to detest all that psychological babble at times, Ms. Cole. Not that I don’t think some of it has merit, but in this case, as in many others, we use the idea of closing a chapter of our lives to justify questionable action.”

“So you don’t think people should be held accountable for their actions? Even when they hurt others?”

“Of course I do. That’s why I went into journalism, after all. Remember I came of age in the Watergate era. Holding people responsible was our rally cry. But in this case, what’s the best possible result to telling your story with names, for publishing it with Mr. Bailey’s name included?”

“That’s what I was thinking this morning. Liam would be embarrassed, sure, but I don’t think he’d learn anything. And I might hurt friends of ours, put them in the middle.”

“Let’s not ignore the elephant in the room, either. Publishing your own story that way does call your journalistic integrity into question, and it would also jeopardize the reputation of your blog. If getting your own revenge was the only reason you decided to tackle this issue, Ms. Cole—and I don’t think was—you’ve let down your readers.”

I stretched my neck against the back of the chair and sighed. “No. I mean, it gave Kristen and me the initial idea, but it’s not the only reason. And I didn’t even intend to use Liam’s name in my post until last weekend. He made me really mad. Again.”

Dr. Turner shook her head. “Julia, Julia...writing from a place of strong emotion is not the role of the journalist. We write to evoke response, but not out of our own passion. You know better than that.”

“You’re right.” I clinched my eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I just needed to hear it, I guess.”

“Don’t apologize. You did what any good journalist would do when she realized she needed distance: you took it outside you, and you asked for input.” She paused for a beat. “You remind me of myself, but I’m happy to say you are far more mature than I was, even when I was a bit older than you.”

The chair creaked as she leaned back. “I was fresh out of college and working in DC. I met a man through my roommate—she had known him in New York when they both worked there—and I fell madly in love.

“I know, you look at me now and think that’s impossible, I’m a dinosaur, but in those days, I was exotic and adventurous and very driven. Men fell at my feet, but I wanted this one. And for a brief time, he wanted me, too.”

“I can see that.” I smiled. “I can imagine you setting the world on fire.”

“Ah.” She quirked an eyebrow. “It was a long time ago. But I made a fool of myself over this man, because I thought he loved me as I did him. In the end, I was wrong. I had a choice, after he humiliated me, broke my heart: I knew things, you see, things he wouldn’t have wanted to get out. I had a golden opportunity to break a huge story, and by way of that, I would have had my revenge.”

I listened, mouth opened in anticipation. “What did you do?”

Dr. Turner closed her eyes. “I wrote the story. I did it in haze of righteous anger, and I took it to my editor, and he read it. And then he said to me essentially what I am telling you. He killed the story. Oh, it came out later, as it should have, in the right way, broken by someone else who didn’t have an axe to grind.”

“Did you regret it? Do you think he ever knew that you could have done it and didn’t?”

She laughed. “I regretted it every minute for years. I second-guessed it, and I raged at my editor. But ultimately, he was right. My ex went on to break a lot of other hearts, and publishing the story wouldn’t have changed that. Something happened to him many, many years later, and I think, as they say, karma is a bitch.”

“Did he ever tell you he was sorry?”

“Never. He probably didn’t even remember the whole episode. I was just one in a very long list of conquests.”

I reached out and touched the top of her hand where it lay on her desk. “I’m sorry, Dr. Turner.”

She took a breath and sat a little straighter, smiled just a bit. “Thank you. Life goes on. But if it’s any consolation to you that I’ve been in your position, then I’m glad my story helps.” She began fussing with the blotter on her desk, and I took that as my cue to wrap up our meeting.

“Thanks for listening, and for the good advice. I hope someday I can pass it on.” I stood and shrugged into my coat.

“Oh, you will. Keep up the good work, Ms. Cole. I’ve been following your blog. You and Kristen have done a nice job putting it together. I’m glad you’re not going to let down your readers or your partner.” She gazed at me meaningfully over the top of her glasses, which I understood was a not-subtle reminder that my grade and reputation were not the only ones at stake here.

“Understood. Thanks again.”

“Any time.” She smiled as I closed the door behind me.

Out in the sunshine, I felt another layer of stress fall away, and I drew in a deep, cleansing breath. It was one of those rare moments when my world felt peaceful and possible.

It lasted until I was right outside the dorm and spied Liam, who was standing in the courtyard, looking up at the windows as though he could see into them.

I wondered if I could walk past without him noticing me. But in my new spirit of peace and love, I decided to try something else.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” Okay, so it maybe sounded a little hostile, but the way I said was more curiosity and less accusation.

He jumped as though I’d hit him. “Julia? My God, don’t sneak up on me.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t sneak up. I was headed into my room. I live here, remember? And I thought it would be nice to say hello. You look like Spiderman about to scale the wall. Are you waiting for someone?”

He squirmed. I never thought I’d see the day, but cool and collected Liam Bailey was decidedly uncomfortable. I remembered Rachel, the freshman girl he’d brought to his birthday party, who now lived in this dormitory, and my stomach turned just a little.

“No. Not really. Just was hoping to run into someone. Maybe.”

I smiled, saccharine sweet. “Not me, I take it?”

“No, not you.” He said it so definitely that I had to laugh.

“Thanks. I guess you gave up on stalking me? Taking your offer off the table, huh?”

“My offer?” He frowned.

“You know. Booty call without strings. Keeping me off the street. No leftovers to the rabble, right?”

His face turned red, and my mouth dropped open.
Was I really embarrassing him?

“Julia, I’m sorry. I was wrong to say that the other day. You just—I was dealing with crap, and yeah, seeing you with other guys worried me. It freaked me out a little. Giff jumped all over me, and I know I need to just leave you alone. Okay?”

My world, so peaceful moments ago, suddenly felt off-kilter.

“I think I must have stepped into an alternate reality. One where Liam Bailey actually knows how to apologize. And shows remorse.”

He made a face at me. “What are you talking about? I apologize. The whole time we were going out, I did nothing but apologize to you. I could never do the right thing.”

“No, you always just asked if I were still pissed at you and then played the—no. You know what, Liam? I’m not doing this. You just did a decent thing, and I’m not going to ruin it by second-guessing everything. Thank you. And now, before any other bizarre world shit goes down, I’m going upstairs to lie down until class.”

I turned to push open the door, and Liam called to me.

“Are you--” He cast his eyes up again at the windows. “Is Ava waiting for you up there? Are you going to lunch with her?”

I shook my head. “No, she’s in class all day. I have the room to myself. Why?” Suspicion crept into my voice as I wondered what game Liam was playing now.

“Nothing. I, just, uh, was going to ask her about a class. A question I had. I’ll catch her later. No problem. See you, Julia.”

He turned and sprinted down the walkway before I could say anything. I shrugged and went inside, shaking my head.

This had been the oddest day.

Ava was already sitting down when I got to Beans a little after four. She waved to me, and I cut around several people in line to get to the table.

“I ordered you a mocha latte on ice. Even though I think you’re nuts to drink cold drinks in the winter.”

“I’m quirky, what can I say?” I sank into the chair across from her. “Thanks. And it’s not that cold outside today. The sun was really warm.”

“Yeah.” Ava picked up the paper wrapper from her straw and began folding it into tiny squares. Her eyes focused on the task, but I didn’t think she was really seeing it.

“Ave.” I reached across to squeeze her hand. “What’s going on? Come on, this is me, Jules, who knows everything about you and loves anyway. And who’s been driving you nuts being needy and insane for the last three months.”

“Only the last
three
months?” She lifted an eyebrow at me, and I grinned.

“Thanks, I love you, too. But seriously, tell me what’s going on.”

Ava licked her lips and sucked in a breath through her nose. “Jules, I do love you, and you know that, right? You’re my best friend, ever, and we might joke about that or whatever, but you know it’s true. I would never, ever hurt you for anything in the world.”

My heart was beginning to pound a little bit. I sat back in my chair. “Okay, yes. I know all that. Ave, you’re freaking me out.”

She pushed away her drink toward the middle of the table. “That Friday night, when you first went out with Jesse, Liam came over just as you were leaving.”

“Right.” I frowned. “You said he talked to you about me being out with all those other guys, and you told him to mind his own business.”

“Yes. That’s what happened. To a certain point. You left, and he was standing in the hallway. I didn’t want to let him into our room. He said he needed to talk to you about how you were acting, that people were talking about you, blah, blah, blah. And I kept saying it was none of his business, and he should leave.

“And then that girl Rachel, the freshman? She was walking down the hall. And she saw him there, and he saw her, and so he asked me if he could come in. She looked upset, and I didn’t want to deal with their drama, so I let him in.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “I swear, Jules, I never thought—I figured he would come in, finish what he was blabbing on about, and then leave. I just wanted a quiet night to do my homework.”

“Okay.” I was still lost, still confused.

“So he sat down on my bed, and I sat on my chair, and he told me Rachel was giving him a hard time, calling him, texting, and he couldn’t shake her loose. I laughed and said he seemed to have a hard time knowing how to end relationships, and he said she wasn’t a relationship, she was just big mistake.”