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“Is Nate here?”
“He’s not up yet. ”
“I’d like you to wake him up. ”
“You shouldn’t be here. ”
“I am here. ”
“You ought to let the college handle this, Caroline. ”
I’m tired of the word this. I’ve heard it a lot since I first heard it from my dad—a word employed as a refuge, a little piece of slippery language that can be pulled over the head and hidden behind. This situation. This trouble. This disagreement.
I’m a prosecutor. I won’t allow her to hide behind words.
“Did you see the pictures?”
She can’t look at me. “Caroline, I don’t want to talk about this. ”
“Did you see them or not?”
“Yes. ”
“Did you recognize Nate’s comforter in the background?”
She crosses her arms. Stares at a spot on the ground by her foot.
“It’s me in those pictures,” I say. “But it’s your son, too, whether he likes it or not, whether he wants to admit that he’s the one in them with me. And I didn’t tell a single person they existed, so the fact that the whole world knows now? That’s on him. Nate has things to answer for. I’d like you to wake him up. ”
For half a minute we stand there. I think she must hope that I’ll go, change my mind, but that’s not happening.
Eventually she turns and ascends the carpeted staircase. She leaves the door open. I stand on the threshold in the gray light of morning. An unwanted gift on the doorstep.
I can hear the radio on in the kitchen. From upstairs, a murmur of voices, a verbal dance between Nate and his mother too muffled to make out the specifics of.
A complaint. A sharp reply. Then the conversation gets louder—a door has opened.
“Why are you taking her side?”
“I’m not. But if I find out you did this, don’t expect me to support you just because you’re my son. It’s despicable, what happened to her. ”
“What she did is despicable. ”
“What she did, she did with you. Now, get dressed and get down there. ”
Footfalls. Water running in the upstairs bathroom.
Nate comes down barefoot in a red T-shirt and jeans, smelling like toothpaste.
He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not supposed to talk to you. ”
“Who says, the dean of students? Please. ”
“I could get expelled. ”
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you tried to ruin my life. ”
His eyes narrow. “Melodramatic much?”
