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SHAY:Oh. Okay. Well, he never paid for what he did. He went on to have two more great years at college. Probably raped more girls, too. Andrew, if you’re out there, fuck you with all my heart.
(Silence.)
Sorry. I guess that wasn’t a safe subject after all.
JAMIE:You were saying going through that experience made you, Laurel, and Clem really close.
SHAY:We were like sisters. I can’t remember being apart for anything, except for class sometimes. Even then, we tried to take the same ones. I’ve never been that close to anyone, even you and Clara growing up.
It was funny, because the three of us were so different. I doubt I would’ve been friends with them if we hadn’t been thrust together. Clem was a radical. Loudmouthed, sometimes abrasive, but so confident, and so knowledgeable about politics and history. She was kind of a genius. If you got her drunk, she could go a full hour without taking a breath about the demise of labor unions and the mistakes of the counterculture movement, like she was a host onThe Young Turks. You could tell it was stuff she’d just taught herself. She was the perfect Whitney student in every way. Ironic, because she came from a huge family in the Midwest, like, seven siblings or something, and they were all religious conservatives. Her parents did not understand her. I used to picture her as this alien creature they adopted. From the stories she told, it seemed like her dad was even a little afraid of her. Which was kind of fair. Clem could be intense. But if you dug down, she was the most loyal friend.
Laurel was the opposite. Just as kind, but deathly shy and soft-spoken. She liked being behind the scenes as much as Clem liked being in the spotlight. You already know Laurel loved working in the theater. She was the epitome of a theater kid, and also an amazing seamstress, which sounds old-fashioned but was kind of cool, actually. She even used to make us clothes. Every holiday and birthday, Clem and I would get a Laurel original. She’d make us these wild things—shirts with fairy wings attached, long, droopy hats, like she was daring us to wear them. You should’ve seen the look on her face when we did. Incredulous, like a kid.
But the most important thing to know about Laurel, I think, is that even when she was happy, she was sad. It was a constant undercurrent. It wasn’t just because of what happened freshman year. It was her dad. They’d been really close until he died in a car accident on his way to pick her up from band practice when she was fifteen. His death sent her mom into a tailspin, and Laurel felt like she had to take care of her. It’s weird to say, but I think going away to college was a reprieve, because she didn’t have to be the adult anymore.
I remember this one time, she brought us backstage after hours. She wanted to show us the costumes she was working on for an adaptation ofA Doll’s House. You remember that play.
JAMIE:Ibsen. We had to read it in high school. I hated it.
SHAY:Well, we were the only people in the theater, and we brought beer, so we were being silly. We got the idea to try on Laurel’s costumes. I dressed up in this three-piece suit—one of the characters was a rich man—
JAMIE:(laughing) You dressed up in a three-piece?
SHAY:I couldn’t stop staring at myself. I tucked my hair and I swear, I looked like a man. I remember getting goose bumps, imagining walking outside, no one watching me or making comments. I could be invisible. I could even walk around at night. Imagine not being scared all the time. You could travel the world in a three-piece suit.
JAMIE:Are you really scared all the time?
SHAY:I’ll say this: when I’m outside, there’s always a hum in the back of my mind. A little thread of anticipation. I think most girls are the same.
(Throat clearing.)
You know, I can’t believe I’m telling you all of this.
(Rustling.)
Anyway. Laurel tried on men’s clothes, too. A sweater with elbow patches and slacks. And then she started crying. When we asked what was wrong, she said she looked like her dad. We tried to comfort her, told her to take off the clothes, but she said no. She wanted to remember him, even if it meant feeling sad. That was just the way she was. She really missed him.
JAMIE:Was it hard being friends with someone that sad? Seems like a lot for a college student to handle.
SHAY:Sometimes, yes. But most of the time, we were happy and carefree. We stuck to each other. Became roommates, ate every meal together, studied together. If we went to a party, we hung out together, left together. At the time, it didn’t seem weird. Looking back, it was probably a little codependent. But it was important to Clem and me to make Laurel happy. I think ever since the day we met her, we were trying to shield her. Take care of her, make something up to her. It was this shared mission.
(Laughter.)
I used to tuck her into bed, sometimes. I’d lie on the floor and tell her stories until she fell asleep.
JAMIE:That’s very maternal of you.
SHAY:Yeah… Who knows where I learned it. It’s funny, what you have hidden inside.
(Silence.)
Sophomore year, we had to choose which dorm we wanted to live in the following year. Laurel wanted Rothschild because it was closest to the Performing Arts Center, and she could stay late at rehearsals without being scared to walk home. Of course Clem and I said yes to that. The problem was, Rothschild only offered four-person suites. Our other friends all had plans. So we needed to find a fourth person to live with, someone who wasn’t already attached. It was surprisingly hard.
JAMIE:You found Rachel Rockwell.
SHAY:Yes. She was in one of Laurel’s classes, I forget which. Laurel told us Rachel was shy and didn’t talk much. Didn’t seem to have many friends. Laurel felt bad for her. Plus, she figured it would be nice to have a quiet roommate. So Clem and I agreed to meet her.
JAMIE:What was she like?
