Wednesday - Consequences
1524 Words
8:30 PM.
Gray again.
I didn’t even check the closet. I just grabbed it.
Gray sweater. Gray coat. Gray scarf.
Aisha watched me from the couch. “You have other colors, you know.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“You’re going to his office again.”
“It’s thesis hours.”
“Maya,” she said. “Ben’s outside. Again.”
I froze.
“Don’t go out the front,” she said. “Use the back.”
I did.
The car was there. Same driver.
But tonight Lucien wasn’t in it.
“Professor Ashford is already at the office,” the driver said.
“With someone,” he added. Then looked straight ahead.
My stomach dropped.
The Ashford Building. 12th floor. Lights on.
The door opened before I touched it.
Lucien was standing there. And he wasn’t alone.
Dr. Elaine Voss.
Second reader. Tenured. 60s. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes.
She taught Ethics 401. She hated donors. She hated me right now.
“Miss Chen,” Dr. Voss said. “Sit.”
I sat.
Lucien sat across from us. Not next to me. Across.
Desk between us. Legal between us.
“Chapter 3,” Dr. Voss said. She had a printed copy. Red marks. Worse than Lucien’s.
“Consequences.” She read the title out loud. “Cute.”
She looked at Lucien. “You approved this?”
“I did,” he said. Voice flat.
“Then we have a problem,” she said. “Because this isn’t research. This is a confession.”
My face burned.
“Read page 4,” Dr. Voss said to me.
I did.
On Saturday at 1:14 AM, the power differential was acknowledged by both parties prior to physical contact. Consent was verbal and given.
Dr. Voss set the paper down.
“Did you write this willingly, Miss Chen?”
“Yes.”
“Without coercion?”
Lucien went still.
“Yes,” I said.
“Liar,” Dr. Voss said. Not mean. Just tired. “You’re a 20 year old student. He’s a billionaire on the board who controls your funding, your advisor, and your thesis. There is no ‘without coercion’ here.”
Lucien leaned forward. “Elaine.”
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t ‘Elaine’ me, Lucien. You called me because the board made you. So we’re doing this by the book.”
She pulled out a recorder. Set it on the desk.
“This meeting is being recorded. For your protection. And hers.”
Lucien’s jaw ticked.
“For the record,” Dr. Voss said. “State your name and role.”
“Lucien Ashford. Donor. Board member. Acting thesis advisor.”
“Maya Chen. Student. Thesis author.”
“Good,” Dr. Voss said. “Now. Miss Chen, do you feel safe in this office?”
I looked at Lucien. He wasn’t looking at me.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you feel like you can leave at any time?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand that Professor Ashford cannot and will not have any romantic or s****l relationship with you while he is your advisor?”
The room went cold.
Lucien answered before I could. “No.”
“Excuse me?” Dr. Voss said.
“No,” Lucien repeated. “I will not agree to that.”
Dr. Voss stared at him. “Lucien. This is non-negotiable.”
“Then I resign as advisor,” he said.
“You can’t—”
“I can,” he said. “Board approved me Friday. I can resign Monday.”
“You’d tank her thesis,” Dr. Voss said.
“I’d rather tank it than lie to you,” he said.
Silence.
Dr. Voss turned to me. “Miss Chen. Do you want him to resign?”
I should have said yes.
I should have said this was my out.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Then we pause,” Dr. Voss said. “No meetings. No contact. Outside of required academic email, cc’d to me. For 30 days. Cooling off period.”
Lucien stood.
“That’s not—”
“That’s the rule,” Dr. Voss said. “Or I go to the board. And to the press.”
He looked at me.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Fine,” he said. “30 days.”
He walked out.
Didn’t look at me.
Dr. Voss waited until the door closed.
Then she softened. Just a little.
“Maya,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I said.
“Do you want me to call campus security? A counselor?”
“No,” I said. “I just want to go home.”
She nodded. Walked me to the elevator herself.
Outside, Ben was there.
He must have been waiting for hours.
“Maya,” he said. Ran to me. “Are you okay? Voss called me. She said—”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m fine.”
He hugged me. Tight.
I let him.
The car was gone.
I took the bus home.
---
Thursday.
No text.
Friday.
No text.
Saturday.
Nothing.
Aisha made me eat. Made me sleep. Made me go to class.
Klein was back. He looked at me like I was glass.
“Miss Chen, about your thesis—”
“I’m switching topics,” I said. “Social media. Nothing about donors.”
He nodded. Relieved.
30 days.
Day 12.
My phone buzzed at 2:14 AM.
Unknown number.
You’re still wearing gray.
I threw the phone.
Day 18.
Email. From Lucien Ashford. CC’d to Voss.
Subject: Thesis Draft Feedback.
Body: See attached. -L.A.
Attachment: 40 pages. All red.
Last comment on page 40: You left out the part where you missed me. -L
I didn’t reply.
Day 24.
Ben took me to dinner.
“You seem better,” he said.
“I’m trying,” I said.
Day 29.
11:58 PM.
My phone buzzed.
L: Tomorrow. 9 PM. Ashford Building. Voss will be there. Last meeting.
L: Wear whatever you want.
L: I don’t care anymore.
Lie.
---
Day 30. 9:00 PM.
The office.
All three of us.
Recorder on.
Dr. Voss looked exhausted.
Lucien looked worse. 5 o’clock shadow. Shirt wrinkled.
He didn’t look at me.
“Final review,” Dr. Voss said. “Chapter 3.”
I read it out loud.
About the 30 days. About the silence. About how I checked my phone 47 times a day.
About how I told Ben I was fine and wasn’t.
About how I wore gray because it was the only thing that felt like him.
When I finished, no one spoke.
Dr. Voss turned off the recorder.
“I’m going to be honest,” she said. “This is the best thesis I’ve read in 10 years. And the most dangerous.”
She looked at Lucien.
“And you. You’re a mess.”
“I know,” he said.
She looked at me.
“And you. You’re not a mess. You’re 20. And you’re in over your head.”
“I know,” I said.
Dr. Voss stood.
“I’m recommending the board allow the thesis. With conditions.
1. Lucien, you are not her advisor after this. Klein takes you back.
2. No contact for 6 months. Academic or otherwise.
3. If either of you breaks this, I go public.”
Lucien nodded. Once.
“Sign here,” Dr. Voss said.
We did.
She left.
Door closed.
It was just us.
30 days of silence. Broken.
Lucien didn’t move.
“You look good,” he said finally. “Not gray.”
“No,” I said. I was wearing blue.
“I told you not to wear blue,” he said.
“I know.”
He laughed. Once. Bitter.
“You did it on purpose.”
“Yeah.”
He stood. Came around the desk.
Stopped in front of me.
“6 months,” he said.
“I know.”
“That’s 180 days.”
“I counted.”
He reached out. Stopped. Hand hovering by my face.
“Can I?” he asked.
The question. Again.
I nodded.
His thumb brushed my cheek.
“You’re cold,” he said.
“The office is cold.”
“No,” he said. “You’re cold because I wasn’t here.”
He dropped his hand.
“I’m not going to kiss you,” he said. “Because if I do I won’t stop. And we have rules now.”
“Okay.”
He stepped back.
“Walk you out?”
“No,” I said. “I’ll go alone.”
He nodded.
At the door I stopped.
“Lucien.”
“What.”
“Did you mean it? When you said you’d burn it down?”
“Yes,” he said. “And I meant it when I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”
I left.
The elevator was empty.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
L: 6 months starts now.
L: Don’t wear blue.
L: I lied. I do care.
I didn’t answer.
Because rules.
Because consequences.
And now we both have to live with it.
- Writer
