Page 96 of Talk to Me

I thought about that for a moment, then shook my head.

“No,” I said. “Who’s Alice Fortner?”

“Socialite. She’s not famous or anything, but she’s rich as shit,” Arthur explained, leaning forward in his chair. “Well, her father died of some type of cancer a couple years back. I can’t remember which kind. Doesn’t matter. So, she announced on her social media and in press releases that she was starting a foundation at a hospital to build a wing for doctors to treat patients with that particular kind of cancer. In honor of her late father. I think it was kind of a rare one, you know?”

I nodded.

“Well,” Arthur said, shaking his head, “some asshole got on that internet and was asking why she didn’t care about all cancer patients. Their mother had died of some cancer and it was a personal attack on them that Alice didn’t care about the cancer their mother had and wasn’t going to be donating money that would benefit those patients, too.”

I rolled my eyes.

“People—probably white ones—you folks just can’t help but jump in on this shit. You want to find ways to be oppressed so badly,” Arthur said with a sigh, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Anyway, people joined in with this online heifer, getting mad at Alice and her efforts to make the world a better place. It was a big dogpile.”

Arthur sighed and sat back in his chair. When he didn’t say anything for a minute, I spoke up.

“Well,” I said, urging him on, “what happened?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said. “Alice didn’t donate that money, the hospital wing never got built, and the world didn’t get any better. It got worse.”

My shoulders fell.

“My point is,” Arthur said, “people are going to run their damn mouths. And since you refuse to resort to violence, the least you can do is to just do whatever the hell you want. Do what you know is right—and ignore the lies and bullying and harassment. People are going to want to see you fail. To fall. They’re going to want to talk about you because you’re happy and they’re miserable. Let ‘em talk. Maybe that’s your way of making the world a better place—giving them an opportunity to forget how damn insufferable and miserable and ugly they are for a moment.”

I snorted a laugh.

“You and Theo being miserable and unhappy—and not hiding the sausage—doesn’t make the world a better place,” Arthur said. “And it certainly doesn’t make either of you happy. And people are still going to run their mouths. You may as well be dating and happy if the mouths aren’t going to stop running. Agreed?”

“Well,” I said slowly, “yeah. That makes perfect sense.”

“Good,” Arthur sat back, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Now explain it to fucking Theo,” I said, throwing my hands up.

“I can’t do everything.” Arthur laughed. “You go tell him. Talk to him. I’ve done my part.”

Sighing, I slid from the bed and stood, staring across the room at Arthur. He was looking at me expectantly.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll try talking to him again. But don’t expect much.”

“Well,” he replied, “whatever happens, I expect you to bring chocolate next Monday and to not talk about this bullshit again. I’m too old to be worrying about this kind of nonsense.”

Laughing, I went over and bent down to hug him, which he pretended to hate. Then I said my goodbyes and left, hoping that I could figure out how to get Theo to talk to me.

Leaving Arthur at Spice House and getting back to the dorm, the last thing I’d expected to find was Collin sitting at his work desk, writing in a notebook. Especially since it was beginning to get dark outside and he’d been spending every night with Dylan, as far as I knew. A duffel bag was on the mattress of his bed that had been stripped bare since he’d last been in our room. His backpack was beside his chair at the desk, unzipped, baring the books and school supplies inside. As I entered the room and caught sight of Collin, I slammed the door behind me, my mood instantly changing.

Smartly, Collin spun in his chair to face me. If the sound of the slamming door hadn’t tipped him off that keeping his back to me was a bad idea, the sound of my voice should have done the trick. Without thinking, I glowered over at him, my hands balling into fists at my side.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” I barked.

Glowering at Collin, I expected him to shout back. I expected my former best friend to tell me that he had every right to be in the room since, technically, it was also his room. By refusing to use it while I was present, his rights weren’t negated. That’s not how university housing worked—especially when it came to the dorms. Collin barking back that I needed to mind my business was what I anticipated as I loomed menacingly by the doorway.

What I got surprised me.

“I…I came to apologize,” Collin said sheepishly. “When I showed up and you weren’t here, I sat down and started on some homework to wait on you.”

Unable to formulate a response, due to both my anger and surprise, I simply stared back at him, my hands clenching at my sides.

Collin’s eyes dropped to look at my clenching fists, and he held up his hands defensively.