pace she wanted it to, she left the Gazette and took a job at their rival. And now, finally, after so long in the trenches of this industry, Paulina was a name, a brand, making the kind of money that she always hoped to.
Some people said newspapers were a dying industry, but if you wrote what people wanted to read, they’d never bury you. There was always a medium.
And then one day, Paulina looked back and realized that Abby was gone. A grown woman, a college student, with her own hopes and dreams and desires and loves.
And Paulina had not been there for any of it.
Which is why this drive felt like the longest hours of
Paulina’s life. Because just as she’d reentered Abby’s life the other day, today she was going to pull the shade over a part of Abigail’s life that Paulina had been too busy to realize had even felt sunshine.
She arrived at the dorm as the sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange hue over the treetops and green grass.
The red brick of the dorms looked radiant in the glow, and for a moment Paulina had to stand and watch them.
Then as shadows began to creep across the grounds,
Paulina locked the car door and prepared herself.
She walked up to the front door and dialed Abby’s cell.
She had no idea what her daughter’s schedule was, whether she had evening class, what time she went to dinner, if she had plans to see a movie tonight.
It didn’t matter. She’d wait at the door all night if she had to.
Fortunately Abby picked up right away.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hey, Abby, it’s your mother.”
“Oh, hey, Mom.” Abby laughed and continued. “You know when you said you’d try to call more I didn’t think you meant it.”
“Oh, I meant it,” Paulina said. “In fact, would you mind buzzing me in? I’m downstairs.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m downstairs. In front of your dorm.”
“Why are you…”
“Just let me in, it’s important.”
“All right, fine, hold on a second.”
The buzzer rang, and Paulina entered. She made her way to Abby’s dorm room and knocked on the door.
Abigail answered, wearing a green tank top and shorts.
A bowl of popcorn was on the coffee table and the television was on. The menu of a DVD was on the screen.
And sitting on the couch was Pam Ruffalo.
Her brown hair was done up in a ponytail, and she was wearing socks without shoes. Her legs were crossed underneath her on the couch. She munched popcorn, then swallowed it when she saw Paulina standing there.
She coughed out a kernel and said, “Hi, Ms. Cole.”
Paulina looked at her. Her eyes widened, and she turned to her daughter, pleading.
“We need to talk alone.”
“You don’t even say hello back, Mom?”
“Hi, Pam. Can you ask her to give us a few minutes?”
“Why? What the hell is going on now?”
“Please, Abby, don’t ask me to…”
“You asked Pam to leave the first time you came here,”
Abigail said, “and I agreed. I don’t answer to you and I never have, so whatever you say to me you can say to her.”
“Abby, she really shouldn’t…”
“Mom, I love her. She has a right to know whatever you have to say to me.”
Paulina stepped back, her breath caught in her throat for a moment. She looked over at Pamela, a massive grin on the young girl’s face at that statement. Abby had a look of pride, both at her love for this girl and her confidence in telling her mother off.
“Fine, Abby, if you want to do this by your rules, so be it. But remember I asked for privacy.”
“I’ll remember to tell that to the judge,” Abby said.
Pam laughed. Paulina had to struggle not to shoot the girl a dirty look.
And then she looked at her daughter, her young, beautiful vibrant daughter, who might never speak to her again after today.
“I found out more about that…issue I talked to you about the other day.”
Abigail placed her hand against the door frame. It was clear she’d tried to put it out of her mind, and from the change in her stance it looked like she’d succeeded until now.
“What did you find out?” Abby asked, almost perfunctorily.
Paulina looked at Pam again, then back at her daughter.
“Last chance,” she said.
“Spill it, Mom.”
“Okay then. I had some friends look into the photo and the album it came from. Did you know Pam here had a blog?”
Abigail smiled, turned to her girlfriend. “Of course I did. She showed me every posting before it went up.”
Pamela blushed and said, “At first I wanted to make sure Abby was okay with it. Then she just trusted me.”
“How sweet,” Paulina said, her voice emotionless.
“Do you know a girl named Samantha Isringhausen?”
Abigail squinted, trying to figure her mother out.
“You’re talking to me like a reporter,” Abigail said. “Asking me all these questions like you’re going after a story. ‘Do you know this person? Have you heard of such and such?’
Be an adult, Mom, and tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Fine,” Paulina said, “but if I’m going to talk to you like an adult, you’re going to have to act like one when
I’m done.”
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“Your words,” Paulina said. Then she nodded at Pam.
“Your girlfriend there sold you out.”
“What?” came the confused cry from both girls.
“You heard me,” she said.
“Mom, I swear to God, you and me have never really gotten along, but if you ever want to talk to me again you’d better have a damn good explanation for this.”
“I do,” she said, “and take a second to look at your
‘girlfriend.’ She doesn’t seem that angry.”
They both turned to Pamela. The girl’s mouth was wide open, but it was more out of protest than surprise. “I don’t know what the heck she’s talking about,” Pam said.
“Samantha Isringhausen,” Paulina said, “took those photos at the beach. You then posted the album online.
All except for one photo. The photo that man showed me the night he threatened your life and burned me to drive his point home.”
“Burned you?” Abigail said. “What are you talking about?”
Paulina lifted her shirt to reveal a deep red burn mark, several inches long. Abigail and Pam both sucked in their breath.
