“Hi,” I said. Her head snapped up and her eyes fastened on me. There was a softness in her expression, but her body language was odd.
“Lana, why don’t you sit?” She motioned for me to do just that across the desk from her. Sitting may help me deliver the news I came to tell her.
I took a seat and clasped my hands in my lap. I’d been practicing what to say, how to broach this topic, but today none of my prep work made it easier.
“I wanted to talk to you about Brock,” I started, determined to keep things simple and stick with facts.
“Yes,” she said, as if expecting me to say that. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“Well, um, there’s no easy way to say this, but Brock is not the person you think he is. When we were younger—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Erica said, her face a bit stern. “Brock already told me about you two and your issues.”
Of course he did. Only I’m sure he gave Erica his version.
“It’s more than issues,” I said.
“Listen, Lana, I think you’re very smart, and your thesis proposal is strong, and I want you to do well. But I think it’s best if you’re assigned a new advisor.”
“What? Why?” I felt like the happy, breezy Erica I’d come to know was no longer the person I was talking to. The woman before me clearly didn’t like me much at all. A lump rose in my throat as I realized that the rapport we once had was no longer present.
“Because we have a conflict of interest. Brock is my fiancé and your step-brother, and with your history…”
“What history did he tell you?”
A look of pity washed over her face and she leaned forward, her hands resting on her desk. “He told me about the mental problems you’ve had. After your mother left and your dad married his mom, you had a hard time adjusting.” She reached out and patted my hand. “It must have been difficult being a young adolescent.”
This was not happening. I knew, at some point, Brock would lie, but I hadn’t expected him to go this far. To pre-discredit me. Though I shouldn’t be surprised.
It took me several seconds to process what was happening, then finally, I figured the best way was to move forward with my plan of the truth. At the very least, she had to know. I couldn’t walk away again and not say anything. Especially since she was closest to Brock and could get hurt.
“That’s not what happened,” I said lowly. Anger hummed in my gut as I thought about how he’d sold this lie to Erica. How I’d have to be blunt and try to now sell her on my case instead of going in there with the only intention being the truth.
“Brock raped me,” I said plainly. “What he did goes past ‘issues.’ He continues to torment me to this day, and what he’s told you isn’t the real truth.”
“Brock said you’d say that. Told me how much you went through when your mother left. I even understand, to an extent, how you craved the attention you’d lost. But this isn’t the way to get it, Lana.”
“I’m not lying. Brock is not who you think he is.” My lungs burned. She didn’t believe me. Refused to. I wasn’t ready for that. I knew it would be difficult for her, but deep down, I thought she’d listen. I was wrong. “The only reason he is dating you is to screw with my life. He’s manipulative in every single thing he does.”
Erica paused, her expression one of hurt and sadness. “I am trying to be sensitive to what you went through with your mom, Lana. But this needs to stop. Don’t you see how this is tearing your family apart? How hard you’re making things on Brock? He sees you struggle, and he is forced to pick up the pieces of his life when you go after him like this.”
“I go after him?” The words cut my throat as they came out, because I was certain nothing more hypocritical had ever been uttered.
“I know you struggle socially. I thought I could help, but at least I know the bigger picture now. I think it’s just best we go our separate ways now.”
My mouth
hung open, and I shook my head. Too dazed, startled and almost to a humorous melt down by how backwards this whole situation—conversation—was.
“You’ll have a new advisor by next week. You’ll continue to work with them on your thesis. I don’t feel comfortable signing off on your project, since I won’t be a part of it further, so I’ll forward all your documents to your new advisor.”
“No, Erica, that’s the least of my worries. I don’t want you to get hurt the way he hurt me.”
“Enough.” She slapped her hand on the desk. “My understanding only goes so far. The lies you tell about Brock end now. I won’t sit here while you bash my fiancé.”
“Erica, please,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but Brock is—”
“I won’t say this again,” she said, her voice hard with concrete edges. “No more talk of Brock, or I’ll have to escalate this matter to the dean. For now, we’ll part ways, you’ll have a new advisor and can continue your work. If you take this further, I’ll have no choice but to get the school involved.”