| |
9:30 A.M., FRIDAY, Jan. 14, 2022, Goose Hollow apartment — Blair ate toast and coffee for breakfast but made scrambled eggs for Will. He didn’t mention calling about the MRI but did say he was going to class. He didn’t mention his blowup at supper. Did he even remember, she wondered?
Did he remember making love to her? That he’d gotten too aggressive again, and she’d pushed him away this time? He had thought that was funny, she recalled now. She realized she was still furious about it. He’d pinned her. She struggled. Will didn’t work out; he was a tall gawky man who wore glasses and had a sweet smile. That man was gone. Last night, it was obvious that an extra six inches of height and 70 pounds gave a man an advantage.
She felt violated. Felt like she hadn’t had a choice. She hadn’t even participated, not really. And Will didn’t seem to care. He had held her wrists with one hand when she tried to push him away. She freed one and shoved him hard.
“Bitch,” he said. She’d gasped with pain when he shoved his penis inside her. She wasn’t used to this. Her body wasn’t used to this. She’d read enough romance novels to know that some women liked it rougher than she did. And that was fine. But she didn’t like this. And that should be fine too.
Instead she had bruises. Fortunately, they were all where they could be covered by clothes. She was going to have to wear jeans and a long-sleeved top today.
How the hell had she gotten here — where she was dressing to cover bruises?
She’d finished the night on the couch again. It didn’t seem to matter to him. Or had he forgotten that too?
She had dated a number of guys in high school and at the community college, but only one relationship included sex, and it had been good. When she and Will started having sex, she’d actually been the more experienced of the two. Will hadn’t been a virgin, not quite, but he hadn’t had an on-going relationship that included sex. Hadn’t had an on-going relationship, period.
And she liked that they had discovered pleasure together. They’d learned what pleased each other. What they themselves liked. And they’d been well matched, she thought. Lots of foreplay, lots of touching and kissing, then penetration and release, release for them both. And cuddling.
She hadn’t thought Will even knew how to have aggressive sex. Was it innate? Or had that even been sex at all? It felt more like an attack. She shied away from that thought. And even with aggressive sex, shouldn’t both partners be satisfied at the end? She hadn’t come the last two nights; she didn’t think Will cared. She wasn’t sure he’d noticed.
She didn’t go to her morning class, preferring to putter a bit at home. She needed to think. Medieval literature hadn’t changed in a very long time. Skipping a lecture wasn’t going to matter.
When it got close to the time to go to meet with Ryan, she couldn’t say her thoughts had gotten her anywhere. She almost called her mother, but she didn’t. It would require thinking — and feeling — and quite frankly she didn’t want to think or feel. Numb was good.
She hadn’t realized how much of her wardrobe was pink, as she stared at the closet. She did have a Vikings T-shirt — green — with long sleeves, and she decided to wear it with blue jeans. Casual for her, but she didn’t care. She didn’t bother with makeup.
She didn’t want to meet with Ryan; she was afraid he was going to want to talk about Will, and she didn’t want to get in the middle of their friendship issues. And she didn’t think she could tell him about her relationship issues. She flushed. It was embarrassing. She didn’t think she could talk to anyone about what happened last night. Or the night before. One time was bad, two was a pattern. And it wasn’t a pattern she could live with.
But curiosity won out. She wanted to know what Ryan wanted. She actually got to the EWN building early. The apartment itself felt oppressive, she thought. And she bumped into Harmony who was leaving to get some lunch.
Harmony looked at her closely and frowned. “Walk to Safeway with me? I’m picking up a sandwich.”
Blair glanced at her watch and nodded, falling in beside the woman.
“Blair, this is none of my business,” Harmony said. She didn’t look at her. “And you can tell me so, and I won’t be offended. But the look on your face? I remember seeing that look in my mirror.”
Blair swallowed. She hadn’t thought it was that obvious that she was upset.
“I’m a single mom,” Harmony continued. “You know that, right? I was married. And the man wasn’t the man I thought he was. He belittled me. Made me feel small and like I should be grateful that he even bothered with me.”
“You?” Blair was startled. She could only hope to grow up and be as poised and smart as Harmony.
Harmony smiled briefly but she didn’t look at her. “And I almost bought into it,” she said. “Hell, I did buy it. And then one day I happened to overhear him say some mean things to our oldest boy — and I was furious. How dare he put our son down like that!”
She walked in silence for a bit. Blair waited. They got to Safeway, and Harmony bought a sandwich and Blair got coffee since they were there. “And your son?” she prompted when Harmony seemed to have a hard time getting started again.
“My son is bright, but he’s not athletic,” she said. “And my husband is... well you’d know his name if I told you. He’s athletic. And then I realized that what he was saying to our son was the same things he’d been saying to me for years.”
“And if he was wrong about your son, he was wrong about you,” Blair said slowly.
She nodded. “So I confronted him about it,” she said quietly. So quietly Blair could barely hear her. “And he... and I showed up wearing loose clothes and long sleeves to work the next day. And the next day. It took me almost a month before I realized I had to walk away. The man I married wasn’t the man I thought I knew.”
They were back at the EWN building now and Harmony stopped. “So I see you, and I see the signs, and I know Will’s been injured and maybe that explains it. But girlfriend? You better be very sure that man you marry is the man you think he is.”
Blair nodded slowly. “Thank you,” she said quietly. Harmony nodded and disappeared into her office. Blair sipped her coffee, leaning against the stairwell until she was sure she was in control of her emotions and then she went upstairs for her meeting with Ryan.
She felt like she was dragging herself into the newsroom. She didn’t want to do this. She wanted to think about what Harmony had said. Did she know the man she was living with? And then she stopped at the entrance to the newsroom and laughed.
Ryan had Ruby slung across his chest, and Rafael was playing with a toy by the couch. She squatted down to get a hug from Rafael, and then looked at Ryan with questions in her eyes.
He grimaced. “No one was home. We have four families there, and you’d think there would be someone. But no,” he said. He was laughing and she relaxed. “Teresa will come get them and the car before my next meeting at 2 p.m.”
She grinned, and her heart melted a bit. Ryan was a gorgeous man, who was once the player that everyone gossiped about. Still told stories about — she hadn’t even known him before he married Teresa. And here he was, happily taking his kids to work while his wife was in class. “What’s up?” she said, as she sat down in his office.
“Feb. 1 is the deadline for applications for EIC,” he said. “Since I’ve learned to never underestimate staff cluelessness, I thought I’d be better check. You do realize that the news editor is usually the person who is expected to step into that position? Are you planning to apply?”
Well, that was blunt, she thought, a bit startled. “I hadn’t thought about it,” she said slowly. “Will’s not going to apply for a second year?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Ryan said. “Has he said anything to you? The Board was pretty clear last year that they don’t think a second year is a good idea.”
Tactful way to say they threw a hissy fit, she thought, although that had been as much politics as truly not approving a second year for an EIC. She thought about being EIC. Did she want to do it? Slowly a smile spread across her face. Hell, yes, she did!
“Do you think I can do it?” she asked, a bit uncertain. Really, she hadn’t been on staff that long.
Ryan snorted. “Blair, you’re amazing,” he said. “You’re smart and a cut-throat reporter. You’re easily the best news editor — second only to Emily, and maybe even that’s up for grabs — that I’ve seen in my years here. You have the ability to keep multiple balls in the air. Of course, you can do it.”
She smiled at him. Ryan was good at support and encouragement. She nodded. “Then, yes,” she said with growing certainty. “Yes, I’ll apply to be EIC.”
“Thank God,” Ryan said, and he smiled back at her. “I had no desire to try and find someone else.”
She laughed. “There are others who could,” she pointed out.
“There are,” he agreed. “But no one who could do it as well.”
She grinned at him, collected another hug from Rafael, and went bounding down the stairs. She caught her reflection in the window of their new door and paused. With the ponytail, she looked like she was still a high school cheerleader, she thought, dissatisfied with her hair for maybe the first time.
Her father had liked it like this. He had liked her in pink. He encouraged her to try out for cheerleading, to run track rather than play soccer like she had wanted. She thought a team sport would be more fun, but he didn’t think it was ladylike.
She wondered if his attitudes were a function of his age. He’d been 45 when she was born after all. She shelved that train of thought and glanced at her reflection one more time. And impulsively she went to her hairstylist to see if she had an opening.
“Sure,” Cindy said. “You want your usual trim?”
“No,” Blair said. “I want it cut. More professional. I’ve worn it like this since I was 13. About time I grew up, don’t you think?”
Cindy gave her some magazines to look at and poured her a glass of wine. “Courage for the change,” she said with a laugh. Blair grinned. Finally, she pointed at a picture of what was called a short bob — it swung around just below the chin. She could see herself doing that. She grinned. Maybe a glass of wine on an empty stomach hadn’t been a great idea.
Cindy approved. “That’s a good look for you,” she agreed. “You got a job interview or something?”
“Something like that,” she agreed. An hour later she walked out with a different look. She grinned. She might have to go clothes shopping next. Wait until the spa girls saw this in the morning!
She looked at the time and headed back to the newsroom for the editor’s meeting. She could do it from home, but she liked being in the newsroom. Liked being with everyone. Liked being part of a team, she thought suddenly, remembering her earlier thoughts about soccer vs. track. Huh.
Bianca was ecstatic when she saw Blairs new hairdo. “It looks great!” she exclaimed. Cindy, another of the anchors, nodded. Blair grinned. Will walked in right at 4 p.m., and she didn’t even know if he saw her before he sat down in his office, and motioned for Corey to link them all in.
It was a quick meeting. Friday’s often were. Sports would dominate the newscast. Most everyone had better things to do than linger over a meeting on a Friday. Ryan called in from home, so she assumed he got his childcare situation solved. Ryan Matthews with childcare issues was still considered the punchline for newsroom jokes. She was sending out follow up emails and texts to reporters about stories when she realized Will was standing next to her desk.
“You said something about an evening at home?” he asked. She tensed. She didn’t want to go home with him. She looked around the newsroom and saw the hallmarks of tension. Miguel was watching closely. He sees too much, she thought. Jennifer was focused on editing copy and was keeping her head down, but she was biting her lip. Joe wandered up front from his preferred spot on the photo computer and sat down at the computer next to hers.
Well what did you expect? A bunch of journalists not to notice something was going on? She’ should fire them if they didn’t.
She nodded. “Give me another half-hour, and I’ll be ready,” she promised. He leaned against the wall and watched her. She tensed. She quickly finished giving out assignments and sending feedback on stories, before turning it over to Jennifer. “You’ve got the desk,” she said with a smile. “Call me if you need anything.”
Jennifer smiled at her. “Go,” she said. “He looks impatient.”
Blair laughed. “He does, doesn’t he?” she said lightly, but she was thinking, what the hell, Will?
“You didn’t tell me you were going to cut your hair,” he observed as they walked home, side by side. He had his fists in his pockets, and she didn’t feel like trying to get closer.
“It was an impulse,” she said, keeping it light. “Do you like it?”
He looked at her, and then looked back at his feet. “I liked it long,” he said. “It made you look cheerful.”
“Like a cheerleader, you mean,” she said.
“Nothing wrong with looking like a cheerleader,” he countered. “I’m just surprised you didn’t ask my opinion before you got it cut.”
He unlocked the front door of the apartment building and held the door open for her. She walked in then unlocked their apartment door.
“I haven’t been a cheerleader in years, Will,” she said, ignoring his bit about asking his opinion first. Over her dead body would she become that kind of woman. She wondered suddenly what his mother was like. Would she have asked permission to get her hair cut? Her eyes narrowed. Time for them to visit his family. “I wanted a more grown-up look.”
She grinned at him, suddenly excited as she remembered her good news. “You know what Ryan asked me today? He asked me if I was planning to apply for EIC! He says it usually goes to the news editor — I didn’t know that — and I needed to think about applying. I’m so excited!”
She twirled around the living room, and grabbed his hand, and pulled him into a dance move with her. He pulled away.
“That fucker!” he said angrily.
Blair stopped and looked at him. “Who?”
“Ryan,” he said. “I thought he was my friend. And he undercuts me like that.”
“How?” she asked. “Were you planning to apply again? Because if you are, I won’t.”
“No,” he said. He ran a hand over his head. “Shit. I had this all planned out, and he knew it. And now it’s screwed up.”
Blair swallowed her own hurt feelings and sat down on the couch. She expected him to sit down next to her, but he paced instead. “Tell me, Will,” she said quietly.
“I applied for graduation,” he said. “And I had it planned out that I was going to ask you to marry me on Valentine’s Day.”
She smiled at him. “I love you,” she said simply. “And yes, I want to spend my life with you.”
He paused. “Really?” he said.
“Really,” she assured him.
He closed his eyes, as if he was relieved. She laughed at him, and he smiled. “So, you won’t apply for editor?”
She frowned. “I don’t understand?”
Will sat down beside her. “I applied for graduation,” he repeated. “There are some good internships that have early deadlines. But there are good newspaper positions I can apply for too. Medford and Grants Pass, for instance. We could move down near your parents. I really liked your dad.”
No way in hell did she want to move near her parents, Blair thought coldly. She watched him as he laid out this plan. He’d given it some thought.
Suddenly she heard Harmony saying, be very sure the man you marry is the man you think he is. Then she wondered, do I know this man at all?
When Will paused, she said, “Will, I’m only a junior. I have a whole other year. Can you find something in the Portland area?”
He shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “I’m not going to get the sweet offer from the Oregonian that Emily did. Don’t get me wrong, she deserved it. But there really aren’t other daily newspapers here. The traditional path is to start out in a rural area, and three or so years from now, the Oregonian — or the Seattle Times — might look at me. But you’re a junior in name only, Blair. I know the kind of credit loads you carry. You could graduate with me, go with me. If not by spring, then summer. Or maybe take a few online credits next fall to finish up.”
No, she couldn’t, she thought very clearly. That wasn’t what she wanted at all. She liked school. She liked taking classes. She was looking forward to the next year, maybe even a year after that. She was in no hurry. EWN staff rarely were. Will would be 24 if he graduated this spring. She had only turned 21 two months ago.
“Blair, don’t you see? I don’t want to go to a strange place by myself,” he said, and he took her hand. “I need you.”
“And what do you think I’d be doing?” she asked, wondering how far he’d gotten in this daydream of his. A daydream without consulting her. And he criticized her for not asking his opinion about her hair?
“You could get a job anywhere,” he said. “You’re so good with people!”
“I want my master’s,” she said slowly. Get a job? Doing what? Teacher’s aide? Nothing wrong with that. But she hadn’t gone to college to get just any old job. “And then maybe a PhD. How does that fit in?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Reporters don’t get paid much,” he said. “It would probably take two incomes to make it work for us. Advanced degrees might have to wait a while.”
Will might not be able to read people well, but she didn’t think she was particularly hard to read right now. “Isn’t that the kind of marriage your parents have? Isn’t that what you want for us?” he asked.
“You met my parents for less than a week,” she said. “There’s a lot you don’t know about them. But to start with, they met when mom was almost done with her law degree, and dad was back at the University of Oregon to do an EdD for his administration certificate. And yes, she followed dad to Medford. But, Will? I don’t want a marriage like my parents. Not ever. I love you. I love you because you’re this sweet man, who would be my partner, and we could grow together. Remember?”
He nodded shortly. She’d told him that when they first started dating.
He stood up and started pacing again.
“So you’re saying you won’t marry me? You want me to hang around here waiting on your schedule?” he asked. She studied him. He looked tired and in pain. A lot of pain. And it was making him irritable again.
“Did you call Dr. Clarke?”
“Stop nagging me!” he shouted at her. “You’re not my mother.”
Blair stared at him. He had never raised his voice at her. Never raised it at anyone in her presence until this week. “Listen to yourself,” she said. “Will, something is wrong.”
“What’s wrong is I just proposed to my girlfriend, and she’d rather be EIC than marry me,” he said bitterly.
“I can’t think of anything I want more than to marry you,” she countered. “But not now. I’m not ready to get married anytime soon, Will. When I do? It’s you I want. But I’m only 21. There’s plenty of time.”
“You don’t get it,” he said bitterly. “You just want to show me up, don’t you? Prove you can be a better editor than I am. And Ryan’s giving you the chance to do that, the fucker. I thought he was my friend.”
She looked at him puzzled and hurt. “You’re not making sense!” she protested. She stood up. “Will, what are you talking about?”
Will grabbed her arms and shook her. “You know what I’m talking about! You think you’re smarter, a better editor, and you can’t resist the chance to prove it. And you’ll sacrifice our future together to do it. I didn’t think you were like that, Blair.”
She rubbed her arms. There would be bruises, she thought numbly, more bruises. “Go away, Will,” she said tiredly. “You’re not making sense. And if you aren’t going to go talk to the doctor about your concussion and pain? I don’t know what to tell you.”
“It’s my apartment too,” he said stubbornly. “You don’t like what I have to say? You leave.”
Blair rubbed her arms again. “OK,” she said.
She grabbed a sweatshirt and her purse and headed for the door. Will swore, startling in itself, and then he swiped at all the dinner dishes, throwing them to the floor. They shattered. She looked at him open-mouthed.
But the sound seemed to please him, and he looked around for something else to throw. He picked up a vase on the bookshelf in the living room.
Blair ran. She slammed the door behind her.
“Shit!” she heard him yell, and then she heard something smash and break against the door she’d just closed.
She took a deep breath and swallowed. She could stay in the Crow’s Nest, she thought numbly. A bit of breathing time for them both. She looked at her watch, it was early yet. She didn’t want to walk through the newsroom with everyone there. She’d go for a long walk first. Calm down a bit.
I just got a marriage proposal from the man I love, said yes, and now I’m homeless, she thought with a half-laugh. She thought about Turk and their offer of a place to land. Guess it was good to have a back-up plan. A woman never knew, did she?
It was dark out, but that didn’t worry Blair. It was only 7 p.m. People were still out; downtown was busy, by post-COVID standards at least. People were going to movies or out to dinner. She wandered toward Pioneer Square. There was music again at the Schnitz, and people were going inside in their suits and fancy dresses. And then, because it was Portland, a scattering of people dressed in blue jeans were mingled in. She could go in, and no one would think twice about what she had on. She smiled.
She walked on, and then she found a bench in the Square to watch people. She knew — she knew — Will was ill. He needed to be back up at OHSU. But she also thought that all this poison that poured out of him wasn’t a lie. He really thought this. He just usually wouldn’t say it. Be sure he’s the person you think he is, she repeated to herself.
So, she watched people and thought about her parents. About her father. About growing up.
No one likes a smart girl, Blair, she could hear him say with disapproval if she showed any signs of standing out. She wondered now what her mother thought every time she heard him say that. Her mother was most certainly ‘a smart girl.’ But she never talked about her cases at the dinner table. Never mentioned her work at all. Blair only knew what she read in the newspaper. She smiled at the memory of her younger self reading the Medford Mail Tribune every day. Thrilled when she found her mother’s name mentioned in an article. She wondered, now, if her father had even bothered to learn that much.
Her mother often drank wine before her father got home. Blair would find her sitting on the patio, sipping a glass, when she’d get home. It wasn’t that she thought her mother had an alcohol problem. It wasn’t that. But she thought her mother had a glass when a case went bad. She represented a lot of abused women, Blair knew. She was an advocate for safe houses, for funding them.
She remembered reading a newspaper quote from her mother once. “There are waiting lists for spaces in shelters,” her mother had said. “Do you know what happens when there are waiting lists for shelters? People die!”
She’d never forgotten that.
But she’d never head her mother talk about things like that either. Instead, dinner talk revolved around her father’s work. Or worse, her father would grill Blair about how she was doing in school. And he didn’t want to hear about a book she was reading or a class she was excited about. He wanted to know was she fitting in? Did she make an effort to belong? To blend in?
She assured him she did. He’d found that taking away her reading privileges was an effective way to control her. She would do almost anything to prevent that. Even be a cheerleader.
She’d forgotten that. She hadn’t wanted to be a cheerleader at first. She had been on the dance team in the eighth grade — at an all-girl Christian academy? She snorted. But her father thought being a cheerleader would be a good thing for her. She’d wanted to be on the school council because she thought that would look better for college admissions.
“Nothing wrong with the schools here,” he said. “Being a cheerleader? You’ll learn a lot.”
So, she tried out, and to her dismay she made JV. And then varsity. By that time, she did like it. It was just one of the things she did, like clearing the table and loading the dishwasher after dinner.
She had wanted to be on the school newspaper, but he disapproved. “You’re a smart girl,” he said. “And people don’t like people who look smarter than they are. Reporters aren’t likeable people, Blair.”
So, she just didn’t tell him about the journalism class she took when she went to the community college. She took another class the next term, and then the next. She couldn’t work on the school newspaper, although the teacher had wanted her to, because the hours were erratic and her father would notice. And that’s when she knew she had to get away. Had to get away from her father’s control. So, she’d gone to her college advisor for help. Her counselor had listened. Really listened.
“What do you want to do, Blair?” she’d asked. “I mean what is it that you really want to do?”
Blair had thought about it. No one had ever asked her that before. “I want to learn things and tell other people about them,” she said honestly. “Maybe as a journalist? Maybe as a teacher. But that’s what I want.”
The advisor nodded, and she had Blair apply to Portland State University. “You can do either,” she said. “You’re very intelligent. And Portland is completely different from these towns that you’re used to. You need that, I think.”
She’d gotten accepted and applied for every scholarship she could find. And then she went home and told her parents she was going to PSU in the fall.
Her father refused to speak to her. But her mother helped her pack what she would need, and even gave her a credit card. “This is enough for living expenses,” she said quietly. “Find yourself a job — try the student newspaper, you’ve a knack for writing. And God knows you’re curious. I’ll add to the card every month. This is from me to you. Your father doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
Which Blair knew meant don’t tell your father. Her mother’s mother had given her some things to make her dorm room a home, and she’d taken the bus to Portland. She hadn’t gone home until this Christmas — a year and a half later. EWN needed her, she told herself. She told her parents, it was COVID keeping her from visiting. But truthfully, she plain didn’t want to go.
When things were getting serious with Will, she knew if she was going to build a life with him, she needed to repair things with her family. And maybe things would be easier if there was a stranger to keep things polite.
Will and her father hit it off, and she’d been glad. She’d been trying to figure out how to get Will to take her to meet his parents. But he just said they were awful, and she’d hate them — especially compared to her parents.
She’d laughed at that. As if having money made a family better. She thought Ryan Matthews might know a thing or two about that.
She glanced at her watch, startled to see how much time had passed. She started back up toward campus. It was 9 p.m. — she’d go watch the newscast, and then go upstairs. Tomorrow, she’d get a ride up to the spa day, and maybe she could figure out what she was going to do next.
It was a plan, she thought. Not a particularly good plan, but a plan. She walked faster. It was starting to rain — not just mist — and it was getting colder. Great, she’d be spending the night in the Crow’s Nest, both cold and wet. She thought about crashing at Bianca and Ben’s, but that would just bring the problems into EWN. And Ben was likely to go down and give Will a piece of his mind. That wouldn’t be good for the newsroom.
This is why you shouldn’t date someone you work with, she thought. Especially someone you work for. She let herself into the EWN building and walked up the stairs. People looked up in surprise when she appeared in the newsroom.
“Thought I’d check in and see how things are going,” she said lightly. Act as if. No one likes a smart girl. Learn to fit in, Blair, you’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.
Miguel smiled at her. “Is it raining harder?”
She nodded. “Roads will be slick tonight,” she said. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”
No one asked questions. No one asked where Will was. She caught Miguel studying her, and she smiled at him. He smiled back, but it didn’t quite go to his eyes.
She called up the news queue and started reading the last of the stories about the symposium’s workshops. Jennifer stretched. “Do you mind if I take off?” she said. “Some of those stories will make your eyes bleed.”
Blair laughed. “Go,” she said. “You’ve been reading them for hours! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“She means that too,” Miguel said. “We are all grateful. Otherwise she makes us all pitch in. How can people be in college and not know how to write a complete sentence?”
“It’s a mystery,” everyone chorused. Blair laughed. That was an Emily saying.
It was one of the things Blair liked about EWN. It was full of smart, creative, intelligent people who had never fit in anywhere else. And here they did. There was a long history of that. They had some of the most loyal alumni of any program — only music rivaled them. There was this sense of history — of heroes like Kevin Tighe who had gone to war with the administration and won, and that’s why they had this building. Of Emily Andersen, editor extraordinaire who had saved them from both COVID and cops who planted bombs. Of Sarah King, who died in the COVID flare but saved J.J.’s life one night, and famously said it was appalling how much of this place was run by young men who thought with their stomachs. A lot of good quotes came from Sarah King, the copyeditor. Or Bill the Copyediting God who had taught Emily and Cage to write, and Ryan to hold his liquor — and wasn’t that a thought? And Ryan Matthews, the man who earned them an FCC warning celebrating his EIC award by having sex in the Green Room and cut it a bit too close on the exit — half clothed.
Which is why they now had the warning announcements.
“Thirty minutes,” Ben said, as if he could read her mind. He saw her. “Didn’t know you were here.”
She nodded. “Always more copy to edit,” she said with a smile.
You want to know what Mona Lisa’s smile means? she thought as she had pondered once before. She’d been astounded to find out in her art appreciation class that there was any question about it. Any woman could tell you — it was a smile that said I’m being a good girl — can’t you see? Are you pleased? Do you like me? But maybe not all women had that smile.
Or maybe it just wasn’t something women shared with men — and it was men who wrote art history books after all.
Maybe she’d ask her friends at tomorrow’s spa day. Do you know why Mona Lisa smiles?
“Live in five,” Ben called out.
There was just Miguel and the sports crew. But the sports editors were deadly earnest over in the sports corner. Friday nights were tight for them. She had to assume they had it under control — they had their own copy editor, wouldn’t let news people touch their copy. She didn’t tell them, but she occasionally went in and touched things up a bit online.
Corey came up the stairs and headed to his Cave. She smiled. Another wonderfully creative, super intelligent person — who didn’t blend in, not with those braids. Not with that brain. But then, why would he want to? Wasn’t it better to stand out?
She didn’t have to blend in either, she realized. Or rather, here she fit in, no matter what she did. No matter what she wore, or how she cut her hair. She was an accepted part of the team. And God willing, and the Media Board approved, she’d be the EIC starting spring term.
Glad I got that much settled, she thought ruefully. She swiveled around so she could watch the anchors. Cindy had a lot more confidence than she did a year ago when she first started out — and she was probably why Miguel was still here, now that she thought about it. Ellison Lee was gorgeous. He didn’t seem to know it either, which struck all the women funny. So far no one knew anything about him.
“Is he straight? Gay? Asexual? Bi?” Kari had asked at a spa day. “Does anyone know?”
No one knew. Remembering that made her think about Kari and her new relationship with Joe Castro. Things were going well there, she was told. Easiest breakup in the history of EWN, gossip said — Kari had decided that she and Corey weren’t right for each other, and he should dance with Becca from advertising, and she’d switched at the New Year’s Eve party and danced with Joe. And they hadn’t been apart since.
She smiled. Joe was a nice guy. He had accepted responsibility for his younger siblings as if there was no question that he should.
So many wonderful, quirky people, she thought.
Her people. And hell yes, she finally found a place where she fit in. Turned out that she hadn’t been the problem at all.
“Good job, people,” Ben said, indicating they were now off the air. The techs were removing mics from the anchors.
“Want to walk home with us?” Bianca asked.
Blair shook her head. “No, I’ve got a reflection paper to write,” she said, lying easily. Lying to make things smoother. Lying so people — men — wouldn’t be angry. Just little lies, really. She should think about that, sometime — think about telling the truth. She snorted at that thought. She wondered what happened to the kid who pointed out that the Emperor had no clothes — she bet it was bad.
“Will still has a headache; I thought I’d give him some peace and quiet,” she added.
Bianca didn’t buy it, but she nodded. “You still going to spa day tomorrow, right?”
“Of course!” she said. “Can you pick me up here, and we’ll take up donuts?”
“Sure,” Bianca said. God bless her for not asking questions.
Corey had his earphones on and was completely absorbed in whatever he was doing. Blair smiled and closed down her workstation. She went upstairs, and passed through the elevator, into the Crow’s Nest.
Now that she was here, it was hard not to remember. She and Will had practically lived up here during spring term last year. He’d had nightmares from what happened. With both of them living in dorm rooms, they’d come here where they could be together. Where she could take care of him. It had been hard times, but it was also where they learned to please each other. Where they finally got to spend an entire night together — something not really possible in the single beds of their dorm rooms. Such a contrast to the last few nights. She mourned for their passing, because she didn’t think there was any going back. There might be a way to go forward, but those gentle loving days were history.
Blair took a deep breath and let it out. She refused to cry. Another breath. Inhale, pause, exhale, pause. She would not cry.
And then because there was no telling who had been sleeping up here, or what they’d been doing besides sleeping, she found clean sheets in the storage cabinet and changed the bed. She’d have to take them home and wash them, she thought absently.
She blocked open the door to the elevator so that no one could use it to get up here.
And then she lay down and curled up.
I belong here, she thought, here at EWN. And she found falling asleep wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be.