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“One time, Hasan,” Dr. Merino corrected.
The dean gave a tight, unamused smile. “Furthermore, isn’t it only logical that under a mentorship Miss O’Callaghan would be expected to abide by the same regulations to which you’re bound?”
“I can assure you, if I were to become her mentor I would absolutely enforce the same expectations upon her. But it seems Miss O’Callaghan is a bit of a tattletale, seeing as I’m sitting in your office. How can we be sure she won’t breach the sanctity of psychotherapist-patient privilege?”
He asserted the claim as if she were a criminal and his gaze rested on her with finality, as if he’d gotten the last word, as if he’d won. His eyes were hollow. Bottomless black pits that refused to let in the slightest light. The emptiness in those eyes was depthless, incapable of reflecting anything but darkness.
Dr. Merino’s penetrative stare had practically reached out and caressed her. Her skin crawled below her billowy blouse. She kept her gaze firmly on the dean and resolved to not let it stray to her left for the remainder of the meeting.
“That comparison is a bit of a stretch, even for you, Dr. Merino,” the dean said.
Seconds of silence stretched on as he scribbled across a piece of paper. He flashed the form at Dayton and he accepted it without a trace of hesitation.
“I have it on good authority that you aren’t terribly busy these days. I’d advise you to iron out your guidelines for the mentorship so the two of you can get started.” Dean Raza jammed a finger into his desk. “Now, I’m warning you, if Miss O’Callaghan has to call for a secondappointment it’ll be much more than your pride on the line. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.”
Dayton rose, straining to decipher fragments of hushed conversation on his way out. The dean adopted a more casual tone once he was alone with Kenna. Gloria offered a quiet goodbye but it was lost on him as he tuned into the dean.
‘This isn’t the first time I’ve had him in my office.’
‘You’ll straighten him out for me, won’t you?’
It didn’t matter what Dean Raza made of his character. It was over. He held the formal decision in his hands.
Glancing at the paper, his bones turned hollow, buoyant. Everything had played out on par with his speculations. He knew the dean would never rule in his favor over a student, especially one with a 4.0. Handing her the mentorship was out of the question—no, that would’ve been much too easy. He knew that in denying Kenna’s request, she would go straight to Dean Raza, bemoaning the injustice.
That was precisely what he’d wanted.
Dayton wanted her to fight for the position, fool her into thinking she had control of the situation, all the while unaware he had orchestrated the entire thing.
Kenna, that darling marionette, had signed herself over to him, surrendered her body, mind and soul for his taking.
4
GUIDELINES
Her boots scored her ascent to Dr. Merino’s third-floor office as she climbed the stairs in Markham Hall. Other students and professors buzzed throughout the stairwell but she was only aware of her steady steps and shaking hand that yearned for the handrail.
Kenna’s preparation for the day was overzealous. Ironed clothes. Gel weighing down her hair. Teeth brushed twice. She had done all she could to craft a confident image, praying that seeing the final product in the mirror would silence the voice in her head that insisted the mentorship was a mistake. His dark eyes and refusal were warnings she’d ignored but she had no choice.
She stood on the precipice of everything that she wanted but she had to ace her hours with the dark doctor if she expected to get anywhere. She’d been to Hell and back a few times before.
One more pass wouldn’t hurt.
Kenna passed an adjunct on the third floor and the doughy scent wafting from his crinkled white bag turned her stomach. She had skipped breakfast, far too nervous to conceive of eating.
Dim light shone overhead as she walked along the hallway of private offices. The distance between herself and the door with the frosted glass window shrank but she didn’t give her pulse permission to accelerate. She controlled her breathing.
Even if she and Dr. Merino did not get along, she was sure she’d learn a lot from him. They’d have to make the daily mechanics work.
The door was ajar and she let herself inside, finding it empty. Kenna had arrived several minutes earlier than their agreed upon meeting time but doubted her new mentor would reprimand her for enthusiasm.
She took up post in the lone visitor’s chair. Three of the walls were a crisp white, contrasting with the black accent wall behind Dr. Merino’s desk. Four windows lined one of the white walls, flooding light into the small office.
The black wall showcased his licenses, certifications, and degrees. Framed, pristine. She zeroed in on the one that read, ‘State of Oregon Medical Board,’ with its bronze seal. It bore his full name and credentials: Dayton Edward Merino, Doctor of Medicine. An oil diffuser crowned a short pile of tattered reference books. Smoke escaped, dancing against the dark wall as it drifted toward evaporation. The fumes smelled of peppermint, but Kenna was certain she detected a vaguely familiar, competing scent.
There were no decorations or plants or any real trace of evidence that the space belonged to anyone besides the briefcase and framed papers. It was clean, sterile, calming; a room which fit its intent.
