Christine Vs. Professor

“Glad you could join us,” Andrew tells me. He’s the dean of the department, a man in his fifties with horn-rimmed glasses and a head full of snow white hair. He’s sitting at his desk and, right in front of him, is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen - Christine.

“Anders?” She calls my name, turning to look at me. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her makeup is slightly smeared.

“What’s going on?” I ask Andrew, and he just points at the chair next to Christine. I sit down, and then he folds his fingers and takes a deep breath.

“Okay, Christine, you were saying…?”I notice her hands shaking, but she then rests them on her lap. She lowers her gaze to her hands, looking away from me.

“I want to…” She starts, but then falls silent. I can tell that she’s hurting to get the words out, but I don’t dare to stop her. She has made her decision, and I can do nothing but respect it. She takes a deep breath and then finally says it in one single breath. “I want to formally withdraw my application for the UN Consultancy Program.”

“Wait - what?” I start, turning to her.

“That’s right,” she tells me, returning my gaze. She then turns to the Dean, takes another breath, and steadies herself. “I’ve been in a relationship with Professor Anders, and I don’t think that I should be considered for the position at the UN. And this is all my fault and --”

I can’t help myself - I throw my head back and let out a loud laugh. She looks at me with wide eyes, trying to figure out why the hell I’m laughing when she’s crushing her dreams because of me. Then the Dean starts to chuckle, adding to her confusion.

“What?” She asks, looking from me to the Dean.

“Christine,” Andrew starts in that patient tone of his, taking his reading glasses out of his face and setting them down on the table. “There’s nothing in the bylaws stopping a professor from having a relationship with a graduate student. You did nothing wrong.”

She looks at the Dean as if he has two heads, but then she finally allows for the good news to sink in. But she’s not done yet. “Well, sir, I still want to withdraw my application. I don’t think that it’s right for me to be nominated and evaluated by Professor Anders. It’s unfair for the other applicants.”

Smiling, I reach for her and place my hand over hers. “Christine,” I call her, and she turns to me, that look of determination in her face. She looks even more beautiful like this, never mind the make-up. “I didn’t nominate you. Dean Andrew did.” Her eyes narrow as she tries to understand the ramifications of what I just told her, and then they almost seem to shine.

“You’re saying that--”

“That’s right,” the Dean cuts her short, still in that patient and kindly tone of his. “Anders took himself out of the equation and let me handle it for him impartially. He didn’t want to jeopardize your dreams, I believe.”

“That’s right,” I nod, gently giving her hand a squeeze. “You don’t need to withdraw your application, babe.”

“In fact, I think that the applications process is now over,” the Dean agrees with me and continues. “You see, Christine, the concept of ‘moral fiber’ is one of the pillars this program stands on because the United Nations are in dire need of leaders with strong ethics. They want to train young people like you, so that when you grow up you can be a force for good in this world.” She nods attentively, but I can tell that she’s not understanding the real reason the Dean is telling her all this. He then adopts a more stately tone of voice and continues speaking. “Judging by the way you handled yourself in this particular situation, preferring to assume personal sacrifice and do what’s right instead of going down an easier path, I formally appraise you as someone of outstanding moral fiber.”

“Me?” Christine starts, her mouth hanging slightly happen as she tries to decode the full meaning of the Dean’s words. She turns to me, trying to see if I have any answers for her, but I just grin. “Congratulations,” I say, and she looks back at the Dean with an expression of disbelief on her face.

“Christine, the vacancy for the UN Consultancy Program is yours. Congratulations!” He finishes with an easy smile, and she almost passes out. I’m ready to move fast out of my chair and grab her when she jumps out of her seat, both arms raised in the air.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” She cries out happily, reaching for the Dean and shaking his hand effusively. She then turns to me and, with the happiest smile I have ever seen on her lips, slaps me on the face.

Wait, what?

I recoil.

“That’s for leaving my stomach in knots for two fucking months!” she says.

What the hell is happening?

Pause.

One moment.

Another.

She throws herself at me. I embrace her, kissing her.

It’s a sweet kiss. But it leaves me wanting more.

“And that’s for thinking enough about me from the very beginning,” she tells me. “I love you.”

“This is all you. You deserve it, babe,” I whisper, my hands on her waist. Then, I smile and whisper against her ear. “What do you say we get out of here and celebrate?”