3. Lark
THREE
LARK
“What the fuck?” I mumble to myself, waving my lanyard over the keyless entry screen to the building. I just got to work, and for some reason, the door won’t open for me. It’s a brand-new security system, so I suppose there could be some bugs that need to be worked out. But if I don’t get in there in the next five minutes, I’m going to be late. And I’m never late. In fact, in the three years I’ve worked in the university’s registration department, I haven’t missed a single day.
“Hey, Lark,” Hailey says, her heels clicking along the sidewalk as she approaches with her venti coffee in hand. On a normal day, said coffee would have her strolling in fifteen minutes late, but I’m not going to question it because at least I’ll be clocked in before eight. “Is that stupid thing not working?”
“Guess not,” I reply with a shrug, stepping aside so she can try her key card. She pulls her lanyard from her tote bag, and as soon as it hovers over the pad, the bulb blinks green and the lock on the door disengages. My brows pull together in confusion, and I make a mental note to swing by IT during lunch to have them check it out. But right now, I just want to get to my computer and sign in so I don’t get in trouble for not being on time.
I speedwalk down the corridor, leaving Hailey and her gigantic cup in my dust. I don’t even bother saying hello to anyone as I rush to my cubicle, frantically jiggling my mouse to wake up my monitor. When it comes to life, the bright welcome screen prompts me to enter my username and password to clock in. I type as fast as I can, hitting the enter button with one minute to spare before I’m officially late. But when the red error message pops up, telling me my access has been denied, panic sets in. I watch as the digital number at the bottom of the display turns to one past eight.
Fuck.
You know what? It’s fine. It’s the first time this has ever happened, and if they really want to make it an issue, they can see me enter the building on the security cameras. I just need to figure out why none of my stuff is working so I can get started on my tasks for the day.
I pull my messenger bag off my shoulder, setting it on my desk before exiting my cubicle. Just as I round the corner, I run into a tall, lanky wall of bones. “Oh, hey Craig,” I say in greeting to the head IT guy. He’s about six-foot-five, weighs roughly the same amount as I do, and always smells like pencil shavings. That’s probably why it takes him so long to answer our tickets on a regular basis. He’s probably just in his office sharpening pencils for no reason.
“Lark?” he says, turning his head slightly as if he wasn’t expecting to see me in my own office. “What are you doing here?”
“Umm,” I say, because why wouldn’t I be here ? “I’m on the schedule every weekday from eight to four.”
He laughs nervously, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Well, I was told to disable your key card and login last night. I thought maybe you got fired or something.”
Fired? That’s ridiculous. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m the best worker they have here. Even though I’ve been taking night classes on campus for the past three years, I’ve never slacked off on my responsibilities. As a matter of fact, I’ve been more dedicated to my job because it’s the only way I can afford to earn my degree.
This school offers free part-time courses to its employees, which was one of the main reasons I took the job. Although I got my bachelor’s in accounting, I never really wanted it as a permanent career. I was initially undeclared, but after I met Ryan, he talked me into majoring in the same thing as him so we could do everything together. It was dumb of me to agree, but at that point, I couldn’t put my finger on what I really wanted to do with my life, so I settled. I hated every minute of my job before, so when I finally decided to become a sex therapist, I didn’t hesitate to make the necessary changes. I quit my job at the accounting firm and used my connection with Gail to get in here so I could earn my degree for free. I swear, it's the only kind thing she ever did for me, but I’m guessing it’s because I only said that I was entering the psychology program. What specialty I intended to pursue wasn’t her business, and I knew she’d judge me for it, so I kept it to myself. Since the day she found out, she’s been doing everything possible to get me to change my mind.
“Who told you to disable my credentials?” I ask, trying to remain calm. Either this is a mistake, or I know exactly who’s behind it. “Umm…” Craig says nervously, trailing off while looking everywhere but at me, which confirms my assumption.
I exhale harshly, throwing my head back in exasperation as I turn without a word and head through the department door. The dean’s office is in this building, which I’m grateful for, because without a working key card, I won’t be able to enter anywhere else on campus until this is sorted out. This is the last fucking straw, and I’m about to put an end to this bullshit.
I push the door to her office open roughly, startling the receptionist as it bounces off the wall behind it. “Oh my God, Lark!” she says, standing abruptly, her eyes widening in surprise. “Can I help you?”
“Nope,” I reply, blowing past her and down the hall, turning into the first door on the left with her hot on my heels, yelling my name in an attempt to stop me.
“What’s going on, Gail?” I say as she looks up at me from behind her desk. The nonchalant look on her face tells me this visit isn’t exactly a surprise to her. “Why aren’t my key card or computer login working? Craig said he was told to disable them, but the funny thing is, I never got a call explaining why.” I’m practically vibrating with anger as she stares back at me, completely unaffected. It’s taking all my self-restraint not to walk over and rip that ugly brown paisley scarf off her neck.
She sits up straight in her seat, clasping her hands together in front of her as a devious grin pulls at the corners of her mouth. “Good morning, Lark,” she says smugly. “I was going to call you to let you know we wouldn’t be needing you in the registration office anymore, but I got sidetracked. Sorry, you came all this way just to have to leave again.”
My fists clench at my sides, and I do my best to keep control of the rage that’s bubbling under the surface. I should’ve known after what happened at the courthouse on Friday that she wouldn’t make my life easy. I always suspected that she helped me get the job here at the university as a way to control me. At the time, I was only concerned about how I would be able to pay for my education, so I pushed those thoughts aside. If I hadn’t, I’d have been prepared for this.
“Gail,” I say, trying to remain calm. “You can’t fire me just because Ryan and I got divorced. That’s not fair.” There has to be some kind of rule or law against this type of treatment toward employees—not that she gives a shit about rules.
She pushes her chair back from the desk, standing and turning away from me to walk over to the wall of windows in her office. She doesn't even look me in the eyes as she speaks so quietly that the receptionist, who’s the only other person near us, couldn’t possibly hear. “As the dean of this school, I can do whatever I want, dear. I told you it wasn’t over between us. I tried to play nice. You had multiple opportunities to give back our last name, but you wouldn’t budge. I won’t let you make my family look foolish while you teach deviants how to have sex. Good luck affording your classes when you don’t get them for free. Now, please leave the premises, before I have you escorted out of here in front of everyone.”
I blink rapidly, attempting to rid my eyes of the tears beginning to fill them. I don’t know if I’m crying because I’m frustrated, or because I’ve worked so hard for the last three years, just to have it all ripped away over something so stupid. I could just do what she wants. I could go back to my maiden name and beg her to keep my job, but fuck that. Gail Dawson is nothing but a bully, and she gets away with it time and time again because nobody ever stands up to her. That ends with me. If she wants to stop me from graduating and starting a career that can truly make a difference, too fucking bad. I’ll find a way to get there without her.
“Fine,” I spit, removing my lanyard from around my neck and slamming it down on her desk. She startles, turning around and finally giving me the eye contact I deserve. “But if you think this means you’re getting your way in the end, you’re dead wrong. One day I’ll open a practice of my own, and your last name will be in great big letters on the front of the building.”
She chokes on a gasp as I turn and leave the office with an even brighter fire for the future I want. I don’t know how I’m going to make it happen, but I need to find a way to pay for classes on my own and achieve all the things she thinks she just yanked from my grasp.