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“Jesus, Cally. When have I ever given you the impression that I was suicidal? Or would do anything intentional to hurt myself in any way, for that matter?”
“That’s not the goddamned point. So often in those cases, the friends and family have no idea what has been going through the poor person’s mind until it’s too fucking late. Besides, with all the cloak and dagger shit that’s going on in your life at the moment, I’d probably be the last person to know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Pretty much exactly what I said. You’ve been keeping so many secrets lately that I really wouldn’t be surprised by just about any outcome. After the campus cops, I was about to call the real cops and report you missing.”
“My God, really? Way to bring the drama. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”
“Yes really, and it’s been close to that point. Plus, you haven’t been answering your phone, which is totally out of character.”
“I’d lost it.”
“Also out of character. And obviously now have it.”
“Yeah. I guess I found it again.”
“What else?” Apart from going AWOL, I wasn’t sure what I’d done to piss Cally off, but it was clear there was something.
“What else what?” I deflected.
“Cut the crap, Honey, Beau has been around to your room to check on you a few times today, and nada, so we know you haven’t been home until now—assuming that’s even where you are at the moment?”
“It is.”
“So you’ve been incommunicado since the event, basically. Then you just pop up again and act like nothing has happened, when anyone with even half a braincell is going to assume that something has very much happened, either during or straight after the reception. Are we wrong?”
“No, you’re not, but I can’t really go into the specifics right now.”
“Oh really? What a surprise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Like I said before, it means that this secret squirrel business is getting to be a recurring theme lately, and not in a good way. Am I safe therefore to assume that this has something to do with a certain large and well-endowed football player?”
“Yeah.”
“You were with him last night?”
“Basically, yeah.”
“Wow. Okaaaay. That was the next planned stop on Beau’s list of places to look for you. He went to Where You Bean, the library, including the archive room, the gym…He was planning on kicking down the door and knocking twenty shades of shit out of Bear.”
It was childish and totally irrational, but I smiled a little at that thought. I’d like to see him fucking try. Bear was lots of things, but the kind of guy who let himself get beat by someone half his size really didn’t strike me as one of them. He was fucking huge, and I had no doubt that he absolutely knew how to use his might.
“I’m so sorry to have put the two of you through all of that unnecessary worry, but I hope you know me enough to understand that I wouldn’t have done it if it had been in any way avoidable. I wish I could tell you more, and I definitely will as soon as I’m able, but right now, I’m asking you guys to trust me on this. I love you both and appreciate your concern and efforts beyond words, but for the moment can we please drop it and focus on whatever the hell is going on with the paper?”
“Well, that’s one of the reasons we’ve been frantically trying to contact you. You don’t know?”
“Not the specifics. I just picked up my phone and saw a billion missed calls and messages, but I didn’t have time to delve into them to find out what was wrong, because you rang, and I didn’t want to miss another call from you.”
“Oh. Well, there was an email, which, no doubt, you haven’t seen either?” I shook my head, even though there was no way for her to see the gesture. However, she correctly interpreted my silence. “We’ve been shut down.”
“What the fuck? Why? By whom?”
“By the Dean, under suspicion of carrying out activities that are a threat to national security.”
Motherfucker.
