Bright Young Women(60)
“Excuse me,” I objected. “No. He’s my steady boyfriend. Fiancé, actually.”
Tina did something approximating a seated curtsy. Fiancé. How noble. “Congratulations are in order then,” she said mordantly, retrieving her salad fork and wiping the handle clean. “Ruth and I had a romantic relationship, sure.” She went back to lancing the bed of lettuce before her. “It’s not a secret or anything I’m ashamed of.”
“Except it was a secret.”
The fork struck the plate in a caustic way that made me grind my back molars.
“You called her a friend,” I said stridently. I was angry, I realized. I felt lied to, taken advantage of. “And I’m sitting there wondering why her family aren’t the ones chasing answers for her. Or why the police don’t seem to like you or want to work with you. And it turns out it’s because you haven’t been forthcoming about your relationship with the victim. I’m prelaw—”
“So you’ve mentioned—”
“And people who omit key information,” I boomed over her, “people like you, you aren’t considered credible. You left out an important piece of the puzzle in order to convince me to be in cahoots with you, and now I look like I’ve been manipulated. Now my reputation could be in question.”
Tina had amassed quite the collection of spinach leaves while I spoke, none of which she showed any intention of eating. “Maybe I prefer to prove myself a credible person first.” She sniffed, disgusted, like she’d caught a whiff of a foul odor. “Since the world isn’t all that understanding of people like me.”
“What you do in your personal life is none of my business.”
Tina laughed abrasively. “Right back at you, Pamela.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Infuriatingly, Tina said nothing. She kept stabbing away at her salad. I couldn’t take it one more second. I snatched the plate away from her. She froze with her fork raised mid-blow.
“What have I done that could possibly invite criticism from anyone?” I demanded. “I do everything by the rule book.”
“By whose rule book? That sexist cult they let you think you run?”
I sent the plate spinning back in her direction. “That’s sexism, actually.”
Tina picked spinach off her blouse; flicked it onto the table. Coolly, she asked, “Does the council tell you to say that?”
“No one tells me to say anything,” I fumed. “I’ve been a member of this organization going on four years, and I’ve seen it with my own eyes. The chapter exists to support like-minded women in their goals and values.”
“Is going to Shoreline College of Law your one goal and value in life?”
How dare she. “It’s Shorebird, and you’re a terrible snob.”
Tina laid down her fork with a surrendering sigh. Almost sadly, she said, “I know you got into Columbia.”
Even though I was furious with her, my chest expanded, full and proud, at the mention of Columbia. Of course I was dying to know how she knew about Columbia, but I had too much pride to ask.
“Despite what you may think,” Tina obliged me without my having to ask, “not every member of law enforcement considers me a nuisance. Some of them actually think I’m onto something. Some of them talked to me about the items retrieved from the scene, and one of them told me they found your acceptance letter in Denise’s nightstand. She kept that for you. In case she succeeded in getting you to change your mind.” Tina folded her hands on the table contritely. Her dark eyebrows relaxed, her whole face smoothing out in a display of genuine remorse. “So now I would like to apologize, because it sounds like Denise was your most avid supporter. And I really have no room to talk.” She laughed tiredly. “Psychiatry is one of the patriarchy’s favored tools to control women. They’re still committing people like me for doing what I do in my personal life.”
I was breathing like a bull, tears spilling down my cheeks, thinking about Denise holding on to my acceptance letter. I was remembering the remarks Detective Pickell had made during my police interview. About being impressed I’d gotten into Columbia. At the time I assumed I’d told him about it in the immediate aftermath of the attack, that I’d been so out of it I’d forgotten. But that wasn’t where he’d heard it. He’d heard it from Denise. He’d heard it from beyond the grave.
“Wild guess here,” Tina continued plaintively. “Your fiancé wasn’t Ivy material. So you’re going to the school you both got into, the one with a goofy name that is criminally beneath you.”
I could not bear to meet her eye. Nothing she’d said was so wild at all. “Shorebird has good placement in the job market,” I said pathetically to the stone wall. “Better than you would think.”
“If he had gotten into Columbia and you hadn’t, would he be going to Columbia?”
“Yes, but it isn’t the same thing,” I rushed to say. “I’m from up there. I’d have friends. Family. Other options.”
Tina just looked sorry for me.
“He’s not like that,” I insisted. “Whatever you’re thinking, he’s not. Between school and running the chapter and my volunteer hours and my externship, I’m constantly, you know, go, go, go, and he never gives me a hard time. He lets me do whatever I want. Most guys don’t do that. And I despise dating. I’d rather stick hot pins in my eyes. Brian is… one less thing I have to do.” I could hear that I’d lost control of the conversation, that I was losing at this, whatever this was.