“Call me Bruce.”
“Yeah . . . To be brutally honest with you: I don’t want to be Jordan’s advisor. It makes it look like I’m on his side. And I’m not on any side, you know? I don’t know what went down, and I don’t want any part of it.”
“Believe it or not, Richard, I know exactly how you feel,” Uncle Bruce says. “But here’s the fact: you are involved. You got involved the second Jordan confided in you.”
Richard sighs. He doesn’t like this guy. But he’s right. The stink of this is all over him, whether he wants it or not. Damn Jordan. Damn this whole freakin’ house. What a complete and utter fail. He wishes he had sucked it up with a random basement single somewhere. “How much of a time commitment are we looking at?”
“Not much. You don’t even have to go to every meeting or hearing. Just a few, show the flag a bit. It’ll all be over before the semester ends.”
Richard glances out the window. The afternoon sun slants low; he’ll have to skip either his run or dinner if he’s going to make it to tutoring on time. Damn.
“All right. I’ll do it,” he says.
“Thank you,” Uncle Bruce says. The relief is evident on his face. He stands. “I’m meeting Jordan for dinner before I head out tonight. He’ll be pleased.” He shakes Richard’s hand. He also reaches into his pocket and produces a card, which he thrusts at Richard. “I’ll be in touch. But in case you have any concerns or questions, you can reach me at these numbers.”
Uncle Bruce turns to leave. Richard thinks of something.
“You said I’m one of two. Who’s the other person Jordan told?”
Uncle Bruce smiles. “I thought you said the less you know the better.” He turns on his heel and walks out of the building.
. . .
Tamra measures a shot from the bottle and pours it into a plastic cup. She tops it with Gatorade.
“Here.” She hands it to Jenny. Green liquid. Jenny sips. It tastes like lime with something else. It’s sweet.
In the long mirror adhered to the back of the door, Jenny glimpses a girl. She wears eye makeup. Her hair is loose.
For a moment, she doesn’t recognize herself in someone else’s dress.
. . .
11
Haley
It’s Haley’s favorite time of day. Always has been, but especially now, with the light soft, the sky streaked salmon, purple, and blue. The chapel carillon chimes late afternoon.
She decides to go for a walk along the river path. She hasn’t been cleared to exercise yet and imagines a new softness around the waistband of her jeans. She also needs a break. From her room. Her roommate.
Because he responded today. Jordan. He finally has a name, although her learning that was an accident. Jenny was so upset, she actually thrust the paper with his response and his name on it into Haley’s hands the moment she walked into their room.
“In response to the claim of sexual assault made against me by Jennifer Louise James, I, Jordan Joseph Bockus, attest that I am innocent of the charge,” Haley read aloud while Jenny paced. She placed the sheet on the desk.
Jordan Bockus. Haley didn’t know him.
“Uh . . . okay,” Haley said quietly. “What did you expect? That he’d fold and say, ‘Yup. Guilty as charged’?”
“I didn’t expect nothing!” Jenny exclaimed. “I wrote two full pages, single--spaced, explaining exactly what happened that night, and he basically responded, ‘She’s lying.’ As if what I claim doesn’t even deserve an answer!”
“Jen. He’ll answer. He has to. There are going to be plenty of people asking him tons of questions.”
“You should have seen the look on Carole’s face when she gave this to me! I could tell she was pretty pissed.”
“Carole Patterson expresses emotion? What’s that like?”
Jenny was not in the mood to pick up on humor cues. “I asked, ‘Is this unusual?’ and she just said the respondent can say as much or as little as he wants, as long as he answers the charge. But I could tell she was surprised. And not in a good way.” Jenny paced faster, which was no small thing in their tiny double.
Then her phone rang. Jenny grabbed it off the windowsill where she’d left it. She glanced at the caller ID, then slid her thumb across the screen to answer.
“Hey. So, he responded. You’re not going to believe it.” Jenny’s eyes darted, searching. “I’ll read it to you. Trust me, it won’t take long.”
Haley pointed to the desk.
Jenny snatched up the paper. “Carrie? Here, I’ve got it.”
Haley didn’t stay to listen. The perfect sunset beckoned. She grabbed her Windbreaker and headed out.