In the Wake of Wanting (21 page)

“Don’t ever assume that a victim has. But you need to encourage your friend to, Trey, and you need to find out about Lucy.”

“Asher’s my best friend, Zaina.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s a good person.”

“I’m a good judge of character, though.”

“You didn’t pick him to be your friend. He singled you out. You even told me when you met him that he wasn’t like any other friend you’d ever had,” she says. “This isn’t about you or how well you can or can’t identify a person with good character. It’s about your friend first. The one who was raped.”

“I know.”

“So why are reporters there?”

“Coley’s brother came by and essentially accused me of raping Pryana, our friend.”

My girlfriend’s jaw drops. “That bitch and her brother need to stay the hell away from you.”

“It’s not like that, Zai. Things are really messed up right–”

“You stay away from her.”

“You know I can’t do that. I’m her editor, and I have to be professional about this. Coley didn’t say it.” I leave out the part where she did actually insinuate it. I know her brother didn’t concoct that idea from thin air. “Everyone’s rightfully scared. There’s a rapist on campus and until someone has some clues, everyone is a suspect.”

“You’re a fool if you keep her around. She sounds like trouble to me.” I wonder if she sees it in my eyes that I agree one-hundred percent with that second statement. Our eyes are locked for eight seconds. I count them.

She’s trouble to my relationship to Zaina. She’s been a handful today, but I know in my heart this is temporary. I know in my heart she’s comfort and peace and happiness and liveliness. She’s been that every other day that I’ve known her as a friend.

“I love you,
Tria
. Good luck.”

“I love you, too, Zai. Bye.”

My next call is to Coley. I expect to leave a message and am surprised when she actually answers.

“Trey, I didn’t know he was going to go over there, and I had no idea he would say such a thing out loud.”

“
Very
loudly,” I add.

“He can’t hear himself,” she explains.

“I understand, but I have a lobby overflowing with reporters and news crews who want to know who I raped.”

“Trey? It’s Pryana.”

“How are you?” I ask her. “I mean… I know… I don’t know, but… you don’t have to answer that. I just hate that this happened to you, Pree.”

“I know you didn’t do it, Trey,” she says.

“I’ll have proof of where I was all night, after I left Coley at the hotel.”

“But
I
know. I know deep down. I’ve worked with you for a year and a half. You’re the perfect gentleman.
Always
. Coley’s just being protective. She knows you better than that, too.”

“God, I hope she does.”

“She told me you saw me and Asher going into
The Wit
offices. I didn’t remember being there, but after she said that, I do… I do remember a
few
things. Just flashes of things.”

“Pryana, did you report this?” She’s silent. “You need to.”

“And say what? I was so drunk that I passed out and don’t even know who I was with? What can be done?”

“There’s no way you were
just drunk
unless you kept drinking after I left. You were okay when I left you. Happy, but fine. And you were walking into the offices on your own. You were
leading the way
, in fact. This has to be… more than alcohol. You need to go to the hospital. There are tests for these things, but I don’t know how long something like that stays in your system.” I hop on my computer and do a quick search for Rohypnol. “Sixty hours, it says. It’s possible a test could detect Rohypnol for up to sixty hours after ingestion.” I do another search for another drug I’ve heard of people using to put in drinks. “If it was GHB, it wouldn’t show.”

“It’s only been about thirty-six hours.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“We’ve seen the gossip sites. Can you even get out?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“They’ll follow you, and then they’ll know it’s me–or think it’s Coley.”

“That probably
will
happen. Look, then I’ll send over a car. Can you go now?”

“Yes.”

“When you tell them you were raped, Pree, they’ll probably get the police involved. I want you to understand that.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t be ashamed of this. It’s not your fault, and I’m going to do anything I can to help.”

“Thank you. Coley wants to talk to you.”

“Trey?”

“Coley, if she still has any of her clothes or sheets from that night, anything she was wearing that may have any DNA evidence on it, you need to tell her to take it with her. Put it in a bag or something.”

“Okay, but listen to me.”

“What?” I ask her.

“I just need you to consider the possibility that it could be Asher. That’s all I need you to do.”

“I am, Coley. I will also be sending you the most boring DVD you’ve ever seen, and I expect you to watch the entire thing so I can clear my name with you. It’s the security camera footage from my hallway. It records twenty-four-seven. And although I do have a balcony, there’s no way I can rappel down that thing sober, much less in the shape I was in that night. I’ll take a picture of it to show you.”

“I don’t need to see any of that.”

“
I
need you to. I also need your help interviewing someone. It’s a girl I know… I just want another woman present for it to make her more comfortable. Can you make yourself available one evening this week?”

“
Any
evening. I told Pree she could stay with me and Teri for as long as she needs to. I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“My parents have extra rooms, too. They just don’t live very close to campus. It’s a ten-minute cab ride.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“If she needs some time away, it would be good for her. And as someone who’s been babied by my mother, there’s no one better. She would be more than happy to help.”

“Thank you. One more thing. My brother is signing that he’s sorry. That it was a knee-jerk reaction… he and I both tend to have those at times.”

“You don’t say…” She laughs on the other end of the line. “The car service should be pulling up now, according to the app. Please call me and let me know how she’s doing,” I tell her.

“I will. Have you talked to Asher again?”

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know before I do.”

“Okay.”

Later that night, I just have to straighten up around the apartment since Jenny had cleaned the place from top to bottom while I made myself scarce for a few hours yesterday. Sitting in Starbucks, doing homework while I was hung over, wasn’t where I wanted to be, but I never like to be in Jenny’s way. I hadn’t expected Lucy to say yes to an interview tonight, but when she did, I had to make it happen. Having thought about where I wanted the conversation to take place, I figured a private residence was the best idea. I told Lucy that another reporter would be here, but she seemed comfortable enough coming over to my apartment without knowing that, anyway.

I wasn’t completely honest with her about the topic of our interview, though. I wasn’t honest at all, actually. I told her I was writing a story on the History department at Columbia. She’s a History major, so I told her she would be an ideal candidate. I didn’t think she would come if she knew what I really intended to ask her. I don’t think my means of getting her to come over would meet the ethical standards I’m bound to, but it was all I could think of in my rushed and unprepared state. I spent the rest of the afternoon thinking of questions I wanted to ask and the conversation I would have with Coley before Lucy arrived.

Fortunately, after about three hours, the news media got tired of the non-story. When they could find no claims of anyone being raped (thanks to the discreet work by NY Presby and the NYPD), they decided to leave my building. This cleared the way for my guests. I’d warned Jerry and asked him to send up the women after I gave him their names. Coley shows up promptly at seven.

When I open the door for her, she’s looking down the hallway. I peek out to see what she’s pointing at. “Is that the camera?” I wave at it, which prompts her to do the same. “Your doorman-guy gave me this to bring up to you. He said your dad’s lawyer dropped it off.”

She hands me an envelope I’d been expecting. I open it up, finding some paperwork and two copies of a DVD. I hand one to her. “Enjoy this masterpiece.”

“I wonder if you can hear things from your apartment on here,” she says.

“Shit, I hope not,” I say, scratching my head. Fortunately, my bedroom’s on the wall opposite the hallway. I don’t think there’s any cause for worry, even though I may have muttered her name aloud a few times as I thought about her after our phone call. What I was doing isn’t worth mentioning to her. “Come in.”

She carries a pillow under one arm, and her duffel bag and backpack are both slung over the other shoulder.

“Guest room is this way,” I tell her, showing her to the bedroom next to mine. After we got off the phone earlier, I thought I remembered her saying she was sleeping on the floor of her dorm room. I’ve seen those dorm rooms. I never thought she’d accept the offer to stay in my spare room, but she did without hesitating. It gave me a sense of relief, because now I really do believe that she doesn’t actually need to see the DVD I just gave her. Now I really do believe our trust was never truly broken.

“Everything is so tidy,” she says, dragging her finger along the dresser and checking it for dust. “Oh, my God. Are you a neat-freak?”

“I like it when things are clean, yes. Did I make it this way?” I shake my head. “I have a maid.”

“Of course you have a maid. Did you ever have to clean your room when you were little?”

“Always. My parents don’t have housekeepers. They never have. That’s my luxury. And Livvy’s luxury. They say we’re lazy. I would agree.”

“No, your sister’s busy. You’re lazy.”

“That’s fair.”

“So… are you going to tell me who we’re interviewing?”

“Put your stuff down. I have a story to tell you.”

“Tell me while I hang up some things.”

I sit down on the bed that’s only been slept in a couple of times and watch as she unpacks enough clothes to last the rest of the week. I told her she could stay as long as she needed–as long as Pryana needed to stay at her dorm. I’m glad she took it to heart.

I recall the night of the first frat party of the semester and what I walked up on in the backyard.

“Now, it could be absolutely nothing. I left the party thinking I was way off-base. I never thought about it again until I talked to Zaina today.”

Coley stops unpacking when I mention my girlfriend’s name. It looks like she’s overcome with guilt, and she sits down on the other side of the bed. I continue with the story.

“She thinks something was going on. She thinks Asher was at least
trying
to force himself on her.”

“So what exactly is the plan?” she asks, following me into the kitchen.

As I tell her what I’m thinking, she looks through my refrigerator and sees what we can put out to snack on, trying to make the setting as comfortable as possible for all of us.

“Lucy, this is Coley Fitzsimmons. She’s a first-year reporter on the paper.”

“You write the poetry articles,” she says, nodding her head in recognition of her name. “I love those. They’re my favorite part of
The Wit
.”

“Thank you. Wow. I wasn’t sure anyone was reading them,” Coley says.

“Are you kidding? My friends and I love them. You’re onto something special.”

I look at my friend, proud of what she’s done.

“Trey puts polish on them all–”

“Don’t give me any credit. I never would have thought something like that would have worked. Anyway, why don’t we all sit down in the living room. Lucy, do you want something to drink? We have some crackers and stuff out, if you’re hungry.”

“Just water, if you have some. Wait… are you writing my article?” Lucy asks Coley. “Am I going to be the subject of a… what do you call them?
Poeticle
?”

Coley looks at me, unsure how to answer. “I don’t think this story works with that format,” I say from the kitchen. “But hang around Coley a little… maybe she can come up with something.” I bring ice water for everyone and sit on the floor, even though there is plenty of seating for all of us. I just want to seem as non-threatening as possible to our subject.

“So,” she says. “What do you want to know about the history program?”