A. Walters - Lead Me Not

It gave without expecting anything in return.

It was the best friend I had.

aubrey

i felt like a kid who had gotten caught by the principal smoking in the bathroom. Dr. Lowell had called me yesterday and asked me to come to her office after classes. I knew what this was about. Kristie had warned me she would be calling my adviser. But in the wake of my strange run-in with Maxx and the insanity of my course load, I had somehow forgotten about how badly I had messed up in support group.

Repression was a glorious thing.

Well, it was time to pay the piper. Face the music. Eat my goddamned words.

“Aubrey, come on in,” Dr. Lowell said from the doorway to her office. I picked up my bag and followed her inside. I took a seat in front of her massive desk after she closed the door.

“You know why you’re here,” Dr. Lowell said without preamble, getting straight to the point. I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry.

“Would you care to explain what happened last week in support group?” my professor asked, sitting down at her desk and folding her hands in front of her. Dr. Lowell was an attractive woman, one of those people who were aging gracefully. Her brown hair, which was only now starting to gray, was cut short and held back with a clip, and her face was wrinkle-free.

And I appreciated that instead of jumping to conclusions, she was looking at me thoughtfully, expecting a good explanation.

“I messed up, Dr. Lowell. I ended up sharing things I shouldn’t have in group. I got angry. These people are there to learn ways to change their lives, and they act as if they couldn’t be bothered. I guess I was sick of it. But what I did was wrong, and I understand if you think I need to leave the group,” I said quietly, ready to take my licks.

Dr. Lowell regarded me intently. She didn’t say anything for a long time; the only sound in the silent office was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

She slowly pushed her chair out from behind her desk and got to her feet. She crossed the room and filled her coffee cup from the fancy Keurig she had in the corner.

Why wasn’t she saying anything?

Maybe Dr. Lowell was a secret sadist and enjoyed watching her poor, panic-stricken students squirm.

“Would you like a cup, Aubrey?” she asked, holding one out.

I nodded, never able to say no to coffee. I took a sip of the gourmet blend, refusing to allow myself to appreciate the taste when I was most likely going to be seriously reprimanded. But damn, this stuff was tasty.

“I don’t want you to leave the group,” Dr. Lowell said finally, after I had polished off half of my coffee.

I blinked in surprise. “Really? Because when I spoke to Kristie she seemed to think my presence in the group wouldn’t be appropriate anymore,” I said.

Dr. Lowell rolled her eyes. Yes, my hard-as-nails professor actually rolled her eyes.

“Kristie is an excellent counselor, but she can be a little rigid sometimes. We’re all human, Aubrey. Part of this process is for you to learn your boundaries, to understand the limits in a group dynamic. You will only ever learn those things with hands-on experience. I would be doing you an extreme disservice if I were to remove you from the group. We all make mistakes. That’s not to say you didn’t act inappropriately. Because you did.” She looked at me levelly. “I just don’t think you need to be raked over the coals for it.”

Dr. Lowell returned to her seat behind her desk. “When I was first out of grad school I had just gotten my license, and I was running a court-mandated anger-management group. All of those attending were known abusers; they had all been convicted of assault, usually on family members. They were a nasty bunch of men. And they treated me like I was a joke. To say I didn’t take that too well, particularly since I was a lot more hotheaded in my younger days, is a bit of an understatement.” She laughed, and I found myself smiling too.

I just may escape this meeting in one piece. Hallelujah!

“I dumped a glass of water on a group member’s head. He apparently hadn’t liked what I had to say and had called me the B word.” I gaped. I would have done a hell of a lot more than dump water on his head.

“To say my superior was unforgiving was putting it mildly. You have to remember, times were different then, and women were only just starting to be accepted in the workplace. This was the seventies, and while advances had been made in gender equality, it still felt like the stone ages. I was put on professional probation for three months, and I wasn’t allowed to facilitate another group until I attended my own anger-management classes.”

Dr. Lowell chuckled. “So you see, you’re not the only one who has ever had to learn to control her emotions and remember to act professionally.”

Dr. Lowell sobered. “Now, we both knew going into this that it would be difficult. It’s hard under typical circumstances, but given your personal experiences I knew it would be doubly so. Would it be helpful if you and I were to meet weekly to process how group is going and to assess your participation?” she asked me.

I tried not to be offended. My behavior was what landed me here. But I couldn’t help but be insulted. It felt as though she were telling me I was too cracked to be able to function.

“No, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I responded stiffly, forcing a smile.

Dr. Lowell nodded. “Well, if at any time you’re having trouble, please don’t hesitate to come and see me. You know my door is always open. Now, let’s talk about where we go from here. Kristie was far from happy when we spoke. And I can’t afford to have her questioning this department. The community-services board works closely with the university to assist with the training and volunteer hours for our students. She’s going to expect some action to be taken.” Dr. Lowell rolled her eyes again, and this time I had to laugh.

Her opinions regarding Kristie Hinkle were pretty clear.

“So I think for the next few weeks, dial it back a bit. Contribute, but don’t take over unless she asks you to. I’ll explain to Kristie that you and I have talked, and I will have her compile weekly progress notes. I have no doubt that if there are any further issues, you’ll hear about it. So will I,” Dr. Lowell finished drolly.

“I’m sure,” I agreed.

“Okay, then, I think we’re finished here. Enjoy the rest of your day,” Dr. Lowell said, already turning back to her grading.

I picked up my book bag and slung it over my shoulder, relieved that the meeting was over and I hadn’t lost a limb or two. Only my dignity had been dinged.

I had the rest of the day to finish up my research paper for Social Psychology. I headed toward Longwood University’s rather impressive library, my steps lighter than they had been when I had left the apartment that morning.

I headed straight for my usual spot, a secluded four-person table on the second floor. It was hidden behind the horticulture section, not exactly a popular spot for students, so I was rarely disturbed. I unloaded my books and pulled out my baggie of snacks, getting ready for an afternoon of research.

I was making good headway with my paper when I felt a presence in my tiny nook. My pencil froze in midsentence, and I looked up and had to swallow my groan.

“Is this seat taken?” Maxx asked, pulling out the chair opposite me.

“Actually, I usually work here . . . alone,” I said slowly and clearly, hoping he got the point.

Maxx was either being purposefully obtuse or didn’t understand the concept of subtext. I was pretty sure it was the former. He gave me a toothy grin and dropped his bag on the table, knocking over my carefully organized notebooks and highlighters.

I gritted my teeth and moved my things out of his way.

“Whatcha working on?” he asked.

“Shh, keep your voice down. You’ll get us kicked out,” I scolded, letting him see how annoyed I was to be interrupted.

Maxx held his hands up. “Sorry, I’ll leave you to it.”

I gave him a curt nod and bowed my head over my book again. I tried to focus on my reading, but with the smell of his aftershave filling my nostrils, I was finding concentrating with Maxx sitting so close pretty much impossible.

When I had written the same sentence three times in a row, I dropped my pen and rubbed my temples.

“Got a headache?” Maxx asked.

“No, just having a hard time focusing,” I muttered.

“Am I distracting you?” Maxx teased.

I dropped my hands on the table with a bang and cringed. I looked around, hoping the librarian wouldn’t toss me out on my ass.

“I sit back here so people won’t bother me. I’ve got a lot of work to do,” I pleaded, really hoping he’d get up and leave.

Maxx cocked his head to the side. “I’ve been trying to place that accent since I first met you. Southwest Virginia?” he asked, not bothering to address my earlier statement. Clearly he was here for the long haul, and I just had to suck it up.

“North Carolina,” I corrected before thinking about it.

Shit!

Do not engage, Aubrey! Do not engage!

“Ahh, a southern gal,” he said, tapping his pencil against his book.

“Mmm-hmm,” I said unintelligibly, hoping that would be an end to it.

I should have known better.

“Where in North Carolina?” he asked a second later.

“What is this, drive Aubrey crazy with a million questions?” I barked.

“You’re so touchy when you’re studying,” Maxx said, biting his lower lip to keep from laughing. My eyes were drawn to his mouth, and I found myself staring at the full curve of his lips.