But I am.
The version of myself who made herself small and spared people inconveniences at her own expense, is done.
My comfort at work is more than a convenience, it’s a legally protected right.
Waiting for the elevator, I catch sight of my eyes, still a little swollen from crying. I straighten my spine, though, because if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it with my whole chest. I pull my phone from my pocket.
Jeremiah’s name sits in my notifications like a dare. Three unread messages. Two missed calls.
I don’t open them. It’s been like that all week. Instead of leaving me alone like I asked, he’s doubled down on his efforts.
Instead, I step into the elevator, not bothering to smile at the other passengers joining me, as I press my thumb against the three. The elevator lurches upward toward the hospital administration offices.
I asked Emmett to fight for his future.
It’s only fair I stop avoiding mine.
Caleb, the HR Generalist, smiles brightly when I step into the office. He takes the black-rimmed glasses from where they’re hooked on his knit polo, sliding them on his face and checking his calendar.
I’m not on it. This meeting is as impromptu as they come, but I’m too busy trying not to bolt out the door to feel bad about that.
When he looks up, he’s still smiling, “If anyone is going to just pop in for a visit, I’m glad it’s you.”
A nervously chuckle bubbles out of me. “You might not feel that way when I tell you why I’m here.”
That warm smile he’s known for falls as his eyes find me over the top of his glasses. “If you give your notice, I’m ripping it up.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat, my gaze dropping to the floor.
“Okay. Not a social visit.”
I glance around the offices. For an HR department, the layout is awfully public. “Can we—is there some place quiet we can talk?”
“Yes, of course.”
He slips into his polished professional tone and stands, popping his laptop free from the dock.
Caleb opens a glass-walled conference room and gestures me inside with a sweep of his arm. “Have a seat.”
If I were able to be put at ease, his warm, confident demeanor would do it. But I fear I’m nothing more than a raw nerve until I get this out in the open.
I take the chair closest to the door and set my phone on the table in front of me, then fold my hands in my lap before I reach down and adjust the chair.
My god. Stop fidgeting.
Caleb flips his notebook open across from me and then looks up. “Okay, Aspen. Tell me what’s going on.”
I suck in a lungful of air like it’s courage. “I need to file a complaint about Dr. Smith.”
His pen pauses just enough that I notice. “All right,” he says carefully. “I’m listening.”
“I want to start by disclosing that Dr. Smith and I previously had a consensual relationship.”
He jots down a note, each scratch of the pen seems to echo in the empty conference room.
“We saw each other casually a few times over the summer.”
“Okay. There’s nothing that prohibits that, but I’m guessing there’s more to this story?”
