I roll my tongue against my cheek, nodding. Now that I’m talking, the nerves have turned to outright anger, and I have to work to keep my voice from shaking.
“I ended things with him, but he hasn’t gotten the message. I tried handling it on my own, repeatedly telling him I was no longer interested in seeing him. The last thing I wanted was for this to be someone else’s mess. But keeping things professional is beyond challenging when he continues to make me uncomfortable. He’s clearly not used to hearing the word no, or thinks it doesn’t apply to him.” I exhale a deep breath and pause because I’ve said a lot.
“I can see that this is really upsetting for you. But I want you to know anything you say to me is confidential. We take all complaints very seriously.”
Relief hits me in a wave.
“Thank you.” It comes out in a whoosh.
“You’ve explicitly told Dr. Smith to stop contacting you outside of work?” Caleb asks.
“Yes. I have text messages.”
I reach for my phone, fumbling it a bit before I unlock it.
“He’s been texting and calling me outside of work. Frequently. Cornering me when I’m working forpersonal reasons. Hunting me down on shift. The last time it happened, I told him you would be my next stop and he threw our pastrelationsin my face. Basically he slut-shamed me.”
Caleb looks up as I slide my phone across the table.
He doesn’t touch it right away.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
He scrolls slowly. The room is quiet except for the faint tick of the wall clock and the soft drag of his finger against glass.
He rubs his lips together, gaze leaving the phone long enough to pin me down.
“There are messages from today.”
And everyday this week.
When he finally sets my phone aside, his voice is lower and more serious than I’ve heard from him before. “Aspen, this isn’t okay.”
Emotion hits me so fast it almost knocks the breath out of my lungs.
I might have put off this difficult conversation, but not once did I think what Jeremiah was doing was right. Hearing it out loud, though, feels like permission to stop carrying it alone. I spent weeks imagining every possible reaction except this one.
Simple belief.
“Has he threatened you or your job?” Caleb asks.
“Not directly.” I think for a second. “But he acted like no one would believe me if I came forward—painted me as being difficult for saying no.”
Caleb nods again. “That’s coercive behavior.” He folds his hands and tucks his glasses back in the neck of his polo. “What outcome are you hoping for?”
“I’m not here to get revenge,” Although it would be nice. “I deserve to feel safe at work. I want boundaries. Documentation. Accountability. I don’t want this happening to anyone else either.”
Caleb studies me for a moment, then gives a single, decisive nod.
“That’s very reasonable.”
I get the feeling that I could have told him to throw the book at him.
Caleb takes control of the conversation with an authority I appreciate. “We’ll open a formal complaint—compliance gets looped in. We’ll collect statements, preserve the messages, and Jeremiah will be removed from your proximity while we investigate.”
Removed. As in I won’t have to deal with him.
