That women might experience stories differently?
That words next to each other become meaning?
Marie Louise waits.
“I thought I was being fair.”
She nods once. “I don't doubt that.” Then she leans back in her chair and lets out a breath. “This one’s on me as well.”
She gestures at the paper.
“I approved it for print.” She shrugs. “I should have challenged the structure.”
I frown.
“I saw the criticism and I saw the detail about her being the first woman and I didn’t stop to think what those things were doing once they sat next to each other.” She looks at me. “I should have.”
She taps the article.
“You’re not a bad journalist, AJ.”
I look at her.
“But you missed something important,” she says. “So we learn from it, and we make sure the next piece is better.”
I stare at the page again.
That annoyingly doesn’t make me feel better.
I think about this morning.
Helen Archer.
LinkedIn.
Graham texting.
The article doing well.
The tiny, embarrassing part of me that walked over here thinking maybe somebody had noticed.
Now I feel like somebody noticed and I wish they hadn’t.
4
Chapter 3
AJ
“Will we publish aretraction?” No journalist wants to have to do that, and I’m no exception.
Marie Louise looks at me for long enough that I begin to suspect my suggestion has landed somewhere between insufficient and adorable.
Which is not ideal.
“A retraction won’t do it,” she says.
“Why not?”
