by Havana Scott
He’s right—it’s for the best, because who needs this pain? I’m strong and won’t let it get to me. I’m going to go out tonight, get drunk, maybe even kiss Gunther. Or Jilly. Or Jilly and Gunther together. While very, very drunk.
Anything is possible when Alice is on a rampage. I wipe my eyes against my sleeve to find my friends examining me. They’re worried but they needn’t be. I’m alright. Better than ever. Better than the Dalek, Are You My Mummy, and Weeping Angels episodes of Doctor Who all put together! That’s a lot of awesome! And when the tears boil over, I exclaim, “I hate my life,” and fall into a sobbing mess of girl mush.
18
ROMAN
I hate what I’m doing to her, but it’s for her own good. In fact, I should’ve done it a long time ago. Alice might make me feel ten years younger, but I’m supposed to be the older, wiser one here. I’m supposed to take care of her. I’m supposed to protect her. I should have taken her as a client and dropped her as a lover. I would’ve been a better help to her that way. She might’ve never been late to class or gotten flak from those two goons.
But hey, what’s done is done and now I can only do right from this point forward.
Sitting in my office, staring out the window at tired, overworked students napping all over campus, I know my days are numbered. The cops only questioned me last night and determined I hadn’t done anything illegal, so they let me off with a warning. They said the rest was in the university’s hands.
The quiet, maternal presence of my secretary filters into the room. “I’m only going to ask you one thing, Dr. Lee.” I look at her behind the hand propping up my face. “Did you do anything wrong to be taken in for questioning last night? I heard a few versions of the truth this morning getting my coffee, but I want to hear it from you.”
Mrs. Gio is a fair and good woman. I fell in love with her the moment I interviewed her and knew she would have my back. Seeing the concern on her face and hearing her ask me this question breaks my heart. She shouldn’t have to doubt me.
“Nothing I wouldn’t have done for you, Mrs. G,” I reply.
She studies me a while, then slowly nods and taps on the door frame with her pen. We have no clients today, but Mrs. Gio is still here, working diligently like she always does. I can’t help but feel that it’s for my benefit. The woman has to take care of someone. Finally, she nods. “I believe you, Roman.”
Just then, my phone rings, displaying an area code and first three numbers I recognize. It’s a college number—the administration office. As expected. I’m surprised they weren’t sitting at my door bright and early this morning. I take the call and prepare to be asked to come down to the admin building ASAP. This will probably be my final day as the campus therapist.
“Good morning. Dr. Lee speaking.”
Entering the Brice Whitfaire Building with all its dark wood paneling and marble floors, I know I’m headed toward doom. When I reach the provost’s office, I let the secretary know I’m here, and she shoots me a coy smile before asking me to take a seat.
The provost, a burly, large man named Dr. Brice Whitfaire III, opens the door and nods. “Lee, come on in,” he says in the deep, disaffecting tone of a man who’s been continuing the traditions of higher education for a long time.
It’s like being sent to the principal’s office except my paycheck may be taken away. Luckily, I’ve got pretty awesome savings. Taking a seat inside his office, I cross my legs and wait while Dr. Whitfaire settles in behind his desk and takes a chug of his water. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you, sir. I’m fine.”
“Good, good. Okay, where shall we begin, Lee…why don’t you tell me about the situation down at the student quarter last night.” He folds his hands and prepares to listen. I’ve only spoken with Dr. Whitfaire once before at the faculty Christmas party, and he was very receptive and jolly at the time, but it might’ve been the spiked coquito.
Today, he looks like he’s dealing with a tick on his ass.
I cock my head and begin. “What happened was…I was two doors down at another bar and restaurant talking to a friend of mine—a female friend who commented that she’d been sexually harassed by another student—and I lost it. I knew where the man she was talking about was that night, so I sought him out. That’s all there really is to it, sir.”
“And you didn’t think, rather than dealing with justice yourself like a masked vigilante, that you should report him and let authorities handle the situation?”
“Not at that moment, sir. I’d been hearing her talk for quite some time about the inequalities she and her female classmates often deal with, and you could say I was frustrated.”
“Frustrated by a friend’s situation so heavily that you blindly raged into a bar at midnight and pulled out two men, proceeding to attack them, Dr. Lee?” He lifts a few scattered papers across his desk. One of them contains a printed cell phone image of me fighting. “These are the reports eyewitnesses are giving.”
“Dr. Whitfaire,” I say, thinking about how to approach this. “I’m not going to deny that I beat those little punk’s asses, sorry for my language.” My heartbeat speeds, as I think about the pummeling I gave them last night. I would do it again if I had to. “But they deserved it, and like I said, I was tired of hearing about the hard time they give these female students. The engineering and robotics programs are mostly guys. The women have to work harder, prove themselves worthy of the same things their male counterparts are just handed.”
“Yes, I know, Lee. Tale as old as time. We have “women in engineering” clubs to bring awareness to exactly this sort of thing, clubs that are filled with supportive men.”
“That’s great, but these two guys sexually harassed a student on campus. Something needs to be done about that.”
Dr. Whitfaire studies me with his grayish, unfazing gaze. Is he on my side but can’t admit it? “I’m not saying what you did wasn’t honorable, Lee, but here at Blaketon, we have faculty rules, and one of those rules involves fraternization with students. I’m talking about your lady ‘friend,’ whose relationship with you prompted this whole situation.” And there it is, the all-knowing understanding, under-the-eyebrow glance. “Is she really just a friend?”
I can’t lie. Chances are, someone has seen Alice and me together somewhere over the last six weeks. They were bound to. Besides, I can’t deny her existence. What kind of man would I be if I did that? But should I lie to protect her? I go with pleading the fifth.
“Yes, she’s a friend.”
“Have you treated her before?”
“No, never.”
“She has never received therapy from you in your office or anywhere else, Dr. Lee?” Dr. Whitfaire is slowly taking on his strict, rule-enforcing personality.
I swallow. This is where the fine line begins. There was the time I fucked her good and hard on my couch, and yes, I’d call that a variation of sexual therapy, but there was no record of it, and it wasn’t as doctor-patient. “No, sir.” No more, no less.
“Well, regardless, she’s a student here. And you’re faculty. And we frown upon interpersonal relationships of any nature, sexual or otherwise, at this facility.”
“I understand, sir. But to be clear, I would’ve probably busted those guys over any sexually harassed female on this campus.”
Dr. Whitfaire regards me with deep scrutiny. “Dr. Lee, the student in question required five stitches at the county hospital last night. I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but we have to follow procedure. An investigator is on her way to your office now as a formality, to make sure there are no files bearing the name ‘Alice Verano.’ And per your testimony here in my office, she should happily report that none such file exists.” He smiles, collects his papers, and adds it to a pile next to his elbow.
Shit. Alice’s patient take-in forms inside her never-used file. I asked Mrs. Gio to keep them, just in case I needed it for anything. “I haven’t broken any rules that I’m awar
e of, Dr. Whitfaire,” I say, kneading my knuckles nervously.
Dr. Whitfaire sighs and tidies things around on his desk. “Lee, a few years back, you were questioned by another administrator regarding your personal relationships with women on this campus. At the time, no evidence was found, but you received a warning, did you not?”
“An informal warning, but there was no physical relationship. The student, like many others here, believed she was in love with me. It happens a lot, sir. The real question isn’t that it happens but how I deal with it.”
“Fair enough. And at the time, you didn’t stay away from her. You engaged in flirting and other questionable activities, which resulted in the warning.”
“That was a long time ago, sir, when I was new to the profession and wasn’t clear on the boundaries. I think I’ve more than proven my reliability as a professional on this campus since then.”
“Even so…” He folds his hands neatly. “I’m not quite so sure that a tiger can ever change his stripes…” Ah. So, that’s how it is. I’ll always be a bad guy in his eyes. More like a liability.
“He does when given the choice for change, sir. We’re talking about a human being here…not a tiger.” I hold his gaze intently. If he thinks that people can’t change, then he’s an old, cynical fool. If people can’t change, then there’s no hope for this world.
I resent the fact that I’m getting shit for being a man defending a woman while her condescending, dick harasser walks free. How is this a college that defends women’s rights? Even if I’m fired today, I wouldn’t want to continue working here anyway. I just hope this doesn’t reach the APA, because a revocation of my license would be a huge blow.
“Nonetheless, your misconduct has come with a police referral this time, and we can’t have a repeat situation. I have no choice but to place you on probation, Lee.” He pushes a stack of papers toward me with a pen. “Fill out this form stating that you’ve understood what we talked about today and accept the change in status of your employment.”
No. I don’t accept it. I don’t accept a university who won’t look into sexual crimes on campus, a university that finds it easier to blame a faculty member with a wrist slap on his otherwise stellar record over disciplining one of their “finest” students, a student that will make them look good to top employers.
If Aaron thought he was invincible, he was right, and this is why. Blaketon University just proved it. But I’ll sign the document. For one reason and one reason only…
Because the last thing I want is Alice getting embroiled in a court battle, which will only delay her graduation and put undue stress on her when she already has enough to deal with as it is. That fuckface never physically touched her, so the college won’t take it too seriously, but I will say this—I’m proud to have delivered her justice regardless, and I don’t care if I get put on probation for it.
If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.
I pick up the pen and sign.
The coffee shop may not be the best place to meet Mrs. Gio in case anyone is watching, anyone who can read lips, but it’s where she is when I call her. I can’t ask her to move another muscle for me when she’s bent over backwards as is, so I meet her there. I take a seat across from her and push a chocolate chip cookie on a napkin her way.
“What’s this for?”
“Because you’re the best, Mrs. G.”
“You’re bribing me with cookies?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She breaks off a piece and pops it into her mouth. “Well, at least someone is.”
I smile sadly. I don’t know what our future holds, but I know I need time to myself, and being put on probation is the perfect time. “Mrs. Gio, I’m canceling my clients for a week or more. I need a break from all of this. You’ll still receive your pay, even if it comes out of my own pocket.”
She sits back in her seat. “Where will you go?”
“Not sure. My sister is in LA, so maybe I’ll catch up with her. Anywhere but here. This town has always stifled me. Too many memories, not a good environment for me. I need a fresh start.”
Nodding, she sips her coffee. “I understand. I’ll cancel your clients for the next week, but take this with you while you’re at it.” She takes a manila envelope out of her bag and hands it to me. “Don’t open it here.”
“What is it?” I feel its weight. Feels like one sheet of paper inside but nothing else.
“It’s my resignation.”
I’m not surprised by too many things, but I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Mrs. Gio wouldn’t leave me. She watches out for me. She’s my bulldog. Is she upset with me? “Why?”
She gives me a sad smile. “I know you won’t be back, Roman. You’ve been talking about leaving for a while. Even if you do consider staying in town, perhaps my not being here will sway your decision.”
“Are you saying you don’t want me here?”
“I’m saying I want you to go. I want you to live and experience life. Figure out what you want. LA is a good idea, Roman. Maybe you’ll find your happiness there.”
I don’t know what to say. What will I do without her?
As for finding happiness, I doubt I will ever find that without Alice. It surprises me to say that about a woman fourteen years younger than me, but it’s true. She’s been the best thing to ever happen to me, though I can’t say the same about myself for her. Just knowing I’ll be away from her, so she can focus on her finals, graduate summa cum laude, then start kicking ass at Tesla makes me happy.
My girl’s going to take over the world someday, and I’ll be able to say that I helped.
Indirectly, but I did.
Even with all these positive thoughts about Alice’s future swirling around in my head, I can’t help one nagging thought battling to be heard amongst the rest—you failed her, Roman. You led her astray, you messed with her brain, you made her fall in love when she tried avoiding it. Now you need to make it up to her.
By leaving her forever.
19
ALICE
When you listen to a voicemail from the dean’s office while your head still swims through a hangover, trust me, it sucks. “Miss Verano, would you care to come down to the Engineering Building, Room 100A, please?” asks a voice which I can only assume is Dean Patrick Alexander, except he doesn’t identify himself, possibly because he thinks everyone knows him.
If this was regarding something bad, I’d be going to the provost’s office in the other building. This sounds like it might be academic-related. Rummaging around my closet, I choose something other than a geek T-shirt and dress quickly.
Heading toward campus, my stomach starts hurting and questions in my mind begin to form a straitjacket of doubt. Am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong? Is this about Roman or Aaron or the now-infamous fist fight? Maybe it’s about me and Roman, and the dean is going to inform me that I’ve been suspended from attending further classes.
Shit.
When I arrive, I don’t want to enter. If this is my last moment of normalcy, I want to enjoy it doing something I love—drawing, watching Doctor Who, or hanging with Roman. Scratch that last one. He made it perfectly clear I’m supposed to forget him.
I keep forgetting my new reality.
I knock, even though the door is ajar. “Come in,” a male voice says.
Entering the office, I spot Dean Alexander sitting behind his desk looking busy and maybe a bit flustered but nothing so terrible that he might destroy me. I’ll take it as a good sign. “You wanted to see me, sir? Alice Verano?”
“Ah, Miss Verano, please sit down.” He gestures to one of the two seats opposite him. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. How are you?” I hope these pleasantries are a good indication, but right at the moment of my question, Professor Eckler walks in through a side door, followed by a tall woman I don’t recognize, then it’s three administrators all taking seats around me.
Officially time to shit my pants.<
br />
“I’m doing okay.” The dean gestures to the two faculty members. “You know Professor Eckler, and this is Dr. Jimenez of Student Affairs.”
“Hello.” I wave at Professor Eckler and Dr. Jimenez, terror seizing my throat. “I’m sorry, but…” I clear my throat. “Can you tell me why I’m here? Did I do something wrong?”
Dean Alexander folds his hands, all business. “We just wanted to check in with you and make sure that everything was okay.”
“With me?” Well, let’s see…my thirty-four year-old boyfriend just broke up with me at the height of my deepest attachment to him, but other than that, GREAT! “I’m fine. Why are you asking? Is something wrong?”
“Miss Verano, we’ve been receiving reports,” he says the word carefully, making eye contact with Dr. Jimenez of Student Affairs, a.k.a. making sure students are receiving the help they need. “So, we wanted to get your point of view on things. Sources say you were dating Dr. Roman Lee, the on-site counselor. Is that correct?”
Whoa. I’m pretty sure I don’t have to answer any of these questions without a lawyer present, and anyway, who would’ve told them? A few people come to mind. “Am I being interrogated? I think I have a right to legal counsel.”
The woman smiles. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” she says in a calm voice. “If anyone has, it’s Dr. Lee, but we’re dealing with him separately. Could you tell us if Dr. Lee coerced you at any point? Did you feel you were victimized?”
“What? No!” I feel like a cornered mouse, and my options splay out before me like a virtual reality dashboard: lie, tell the truth, or plead the fifth. Another, evil one appears: throw Roman under the bus to get him back for disappearing on me. As tempting as that is, I would never do it.
I sigh, picking at my nails. “We were friends, but now we’re not even that.”
“Did something happen between you two? You say were friends.”
“He stopped talking to me suddenly, but I understand why if he’s getting the same interrogation as I am right now. It’s only natural that he’d withdraw.” The three administrators give each other that look when they’re amused by a smart student’s reply. “Are there rules against faculty being friends with students?”
