Page 85 of The Summer I First Saw You
They’re about to lose that boredom.
They’re about to get real fucking nervous.
The head of the disciplinary committee begins reading from a sheet of paper in front of him. “Miss Doherty was on scholastic probation during the fall semester and then proceeded to drop all her classes in the spring after failing toever attend most of them. This appears to be pretty cut and dry unless there’s information we’re lacking.”
“There is,” I say, rising, shoving the shitty chair backward because I’m furious with them and with the situation and with myself. “You don’t seem to have it anywhere in those notes that Miss Doherty was repeatedly victimized by this institution, and by one of your cherished professors most of all. She has texts and photos documenting all of it.”
Suddenly, no one’s thinking about whether they can go to the fucking store.
I begin to detail the treatment Daisy received at the student health center and the way no one ever inquired about a family history of mental illness before quickly tossing her a prescription. When I name Christian Cooper, there are glances shared. I’d guarantee it’s not the first time they’ve heard a story like this. They’ve let him get away with it because he’s someone the university could brag about in the admissions brochure, and that makes them even more culpable than they already were.
When I get to the things Cooper said to her when told she was pregnant, the university’s counsel cuts me off.
“This is obviously a very serious allegation,” he says. “One that exceeds the purview of this committee. I need to discuss this with outside counsel before it proceeds further.”
Daisy stiffens. I place a hand on her shoulder, silently telling her not to worry.
“Before itproceeds?” I snap. “I really hope you’re not about to tell me that a student who was repeatedly abused by this institution and flew across the country for this hearing is going to leave here without an answer when the semester begins in three weeks.”
The man’s eye twitches. He glances at the woman heading the committee.
“Obviously, Miss Doherty is invited to return,” she says promptly. “We’ll ask her to provide documentation of the relationship, but I see no issue with her returning to school. Ifit’s as described, the last semester will be wiped from her transcript and any tuition she paid will be reimbursed.”
It’s the least they could do, and they know it. Christian Cooper used a position of power to leverage a sexual relationship with a significantly younger female without giving a damn who he hurt when he did it.
And I did the same goddamn thing.
44
DAISY
When someone loses interest in you, it’s like a light switch has been turned off by someone insisting the lights are still on. You wonder if the problem is you. Perhaps you are deeply insecure. Perhaps you need more validation than other girls, or you’re a narcissist who makes someone else’s bad mood all about you.
And so you don’t push back when he tells you the lights are still on because asking about the lights too many times will make you soundcrazy. It will drive him away. But it always, always turns out that the lights were off, and it was done, and he just didn’t want to say it to your face.
On that final drive back to DC with Christian, I fought myself to stay silent. He’d given me an excuse that sounded like bullshit, but what was I supposed to do?
I couldn’t keep asking without sounding needy. I wanted to bring up winter break again. I wanted to apologize for bringing up winter break at all. I wanted to tell him I hadn’t meant to pressure him—I’d just needed to book my flight—and I also wanted to say something, anything, that would tell me he wasn’t ending this.
And now I’m reliving it. As Harrison and I walk out of the hearing—a hearing I justwon, a hearing I should leave feeling ecstatic—he can barely meet my eye. He acts as if he’s just busy calling us a car, checking on our flights, but he does it as if I’m not even standing beside him. Or as if he wishes I wasn’t.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.Why are the lights off?
“Nothing,” he says.The lights are on. You’re crazy.
I squeeze his hand, urging him to look at me. “Harrison, I know what you’re thinking. I don’t have an older man fetish.” I simply like guys who are confident, and that tends to be found in men, rather than boys. Nico, the guy I dated before Christian, was my age, but being a senator’s kid and having a lot of money gave him a head start. “I think I was attracted to Christian because he reminded me of you in some ways.”
He winces.
“Not the bad stuff,” I continue hurriedly as the car pulls up to the curb. “Just the responsible, pulled together, confident part. But he wasn’t you. He was never even close. It was entirely different with him, and I never felt the way I do now.”
Students passing turn toward us, perhaps hearing the desperation in my voice…the pleading of a girl who already knows she’s lost.
“Let’s talk about it at home,” he says, holding the door for me.
My gaze meets his as I step inside. I can’t read the look in his eyes. Is it sorrow? Is it guilt? Is it anger?
The only thing that’s clear is this: the lights are off, and I can’t turn them back on.
