Wrecked(24)

She still wasn’t right, she explained. She felt . . . third person--ish. Detached. Like she was an observer rather than a participant in her own life. She had tons of work: reading, papers, math she should be knocking out but instead took her hours. She’d read a sentence only to realize she couldn’t repeat back to you what it meant. Worse yet, reading gave her headaches. She kept falling asleep in the library, falling asleep in lectures. And even though her deans had given her plenty of accommodations, she was more and more stressed over the growing mountain of missed deadlines.

And then there was Jenny. She told her about Jenny. She had no idea whether that was forbidden or not, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t as if her mother were going to spread the word around campus. So she spilled: from the night it happened to Carrie and Gail and right on down to Carole Patterson. She told her about the advisor thing. She told her about Jenny always being in the room now. Needing to talk.

For once, her mother didn’t interrupt. When she finished, there was silence. Haley wondered if they’d been disconnected. But then her mother spoke.

“I’m going to say something and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way. But I’m your mother, and my primary concern is you.

“First: you need a room change. A single. I’m going to call your dean and get the ball rolling on that. You need sleep and rest, and while I’m terribly sorry about what’s happened to Jenny, the last thing you need right now is a roommate in crisis.”

Haley sniffled. “Mom, no—”

“Second,” her mother continued, oblivious to the interruption, “you need to contact that Carole person and tell her under no circumstances can you be involved in this case. You are not well and cannot make this commitment. Besides, it’s ridiculous. That girl needs an adult from the college to help her!”

“Mom, it’s not like that. She already has adults involved. Plus her parents, which is a whole other issue. I think she just needs a friend. She doesn’t know a lot of people.”

“Well, can’t that rape crisis person be her friend? What’d you say her name was? Casey?”

“Carrie. I don’t know. Frankly, I think Jenny could use a break from Carrie.”

“Sounds like you need a break from Jenny.”

“Mom. She’s been raped.”

“I know this sounds cold, but that’s simply not your problem. Your health needs to be your focus right now. Promise me you will extricate yourself from this.”

She had called for conversation and support, and instead got directives. Typical.

Why did she think talking to her mother was a good idea? When it came to their relationship, Haley felt like a dog that eats its own vomit. She knows it will be awful, but she keeps returning for more.

“Fine,” Haley said. “I’ll talk to Carole as long as you promise not to contact housing. I want to handle that myself.” They ended the call soon after that.

She never called housing. And her only contact with Carole Patterson was to sign the confidentiality forms and leave them at her office. She doesn’t know what to do about her growing mountain of work, lingering pain, and lack of privacy, but ditching Jenny is not the solution.

Of course, finding Carrie Mason in her room when her head is pounding sure makes her think twice about a single.

Gail sits up. The tiniest pinhead of a diamond pierces her nose, and her lips are glossed Ripe Raspberry. Her kohl--lined eyes, Cleopatra--esque, are a dramatic yin to Carrie’s makeup--free yang. “Hey, Jenny told us you’re going to be her advisor at the hearing. Good for you!”

“Have we heard there’s definitely going to be a hearing?” Haley drinks from her bottle. “I didn’t know he’d responded yet.”

“No, not yet, but we’re kind of assuming.” Gail looks at Carrie.

“God, I hope so!” Carrie says. She bounces up. “It’d be anticlimactic if the creep just ran away.”

“Got away, more like,” Gail says. “If he withdraws voluntarily, he can enroll in another college and prey on other victims. He needs to get taken down.”

“But isn’t it better for Jenny if he leaves? She wouldn’t have to go through some trial,” Haley says. I wouldn’t have to go through some trial.

“It might be easier for her in the short term, but is that closure?” Carrie asks. “Is that justice? Months or even years from now, will she regret that her attacker never had to own up to what he did? That he might have even gone on to rape again?”

“See, that’s why she really needs to go to the police,” Gail says. “I’m with her father there. If he slips through the college process, they can go after him another way.”

“That train has left the station,” Carrie says, not bothering to hide the disappointment in her voice. “Without a rape kit there’s not much the cops can do. And it’s too late for that.”

Buzz saw. That’s how this feels. Haley’s been in her room less than two minutes and the whirl of words sounds—and feels—like a saw in her head.

She really can’t handle it right now.

“You know, guys, I’m sorry to interrupt this little strategy session, but I was hoping to get some shut--eye.” Boundaries, she thinks. You’re not being a bitch; you’re setting boundaries.