Page 7 of Surrender to Me
Chapter 4
The graduate lecture room could fit fifteen people comfortably, but with twenty-five of us in there, it was stuffy and cramped. The harsh fluorescent lights whining above us didn’t make it any better. You would think that an art school that charged upwards of forty grand a year would have the money to get better buildings with natural lighting, but my guess was that they dumped their money into the studios, or the deans’ pockets.
“This is a review of Riley Glass’s admission and her scholarship offer to the sculpture program,” Wile Stevens said. Hearing him say my name made my gut fill with nerves. I looked around, scanning who was there—several faculty I recognized, some students from the graduate studio, and Michael, glaring at me from across the room. His blue eyes were full of menace like he meant to hurt someone, to hurt me. I involuntarily shrugged my shoulders as I looked away from him. I knew that wasn’t the best body language to show someone I should be more careful around, so I turned beet red.
“Miss Glass,” Stevens continued, “was awarded the Bouchard scholarship for graduate students. This scholarship is funded by Charlotte and Henry Bouchard. We offer one scholarship to our most promising student of each incoming class.” He pushed his glasses up his nose as he glanced at his notes. “You, Miss Glass, were selected based on an excellent portfolio. However, it has come to our attention that you had an affair with Mr. Lowell.” At this point, he looked at Owen, who nodded back. Both of them had stoic expressions on their faces. “Mr. Lowell has been a benefactor to the Foundation for many years, and funds tuition of two undergraduates with need. Miss Glass applied for the graduate program, which is not related to Mr. Lowell’s generous donations.” He cleared his throat. “However, based on the circumstances, many of our students filed complaints stating that it was unfair of you to receive this scholarship when you have a relationship with a benefactor, regardless of this benefactor’s association with the Foundation. We will hear from Michael Lauder, representing the students, Rebecca Hunt, representing the sculpture department, as well as Benefactor Owen Lowell, and you, Miss Glass. Have you prepared a statement?” I nodded. “Good,” he said. “Mr. Lauder.”
Michael stood at his seat and looked at me. It was like he was trying to sear my soul with his eyes. “We, the students of the graduate department, feel it is grossly unfair of Miss Glass to receive the scholarship. As we’re all well aware, she had an affair with Owen Lowell.” Michael looked at Owen, and when he saw Owen’s hostile expression, he quickly turned his gaze to the rest of the room. “This relationship started when portfolios were due for the application season. I saw Miss Glass speaking with Mr. Lowell on several occasions.” I had to think about it. Sure, we had spoken at the galleries, but most of our conversations were with groups of people, even with Michael present. He must’ve been talking about the first time, when Owen introduced me to Stevens.
Michael sighed then looked up again, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. The drama was annoyingly palpable. “We believe that at the bare minimum, Riley should be put on probation and given a second evaluation at the end of the semester. We believe she should be on regular student status if she chooses to re-enroll this semester.”
How did he know I had deferred my admission? I crossed my arms, then unfolded them, trying to seem strong and confident when I felt like the complete opposite.
Stevens looked over the tip of his glasses. “And how do you know Miss Glass?” he asked.
“We used to be friends.” Michael shook his head and looked down mournfully. So much for friends. Thanks for putting my business out there, friend, I thought. Thanks for turning on me as soon as you didn’t get your way. “Riley seduced me to get closer to the faculty.” A few people gasped, as if it was truly shocking that I had slept with not one, but two men in the room. It was infuriating how he made it sound like I had pursued him when he had tried dating me and every single one of his students, teachers, and potential agents. Michael had probably slept with more people in the room than I had in my whole life! Come to think of it, maybe that’s why some people were gasping? Their sweet, innocent, starving artist Michael had been taken advantage of, the poor baby. I would never judge someone for their life choices, but I was willing to look down on Michael for being a world class hypocrite. “She used me to get what she wanted, while the rest of us worked hard on our craft.”
A woman scoffed. I looked up and saw that it was the head of the photography department, a woman who knew Michael very well. She sneered at him. Well, at least someone knew what he was really like.
“Is that all, Mr. Lauder?” Stevens asked.
“I want to reiterate that she should be put on probation,” Michael said.
“Note taken, Mr. Lauder. Mr. Lowell?” Stevens said.
“Miss Glass and I knew each other from the Foundation’s events,” Owen said. “We didn’t know each other well, nor did we make any promises for the sake of her career or educational advancement.”
“But you made other arrangements?” Stevens asked.
Owen paused, then said, “For a short time of a private nature. It was insignificant.” Insignificant? The word hurt worse than seeing Poppy on his doorstep. Insignificant: we never meant anything to him. “We discussed art from time to time, but Miss Glass made it clear that she would not accept assistance of any kind. In fact, when I introduced her to a prominent faculty member,” and with this, Stevens shifted in his seat, his eyes glazing over the agenda in front of him, “she was furious.” Owen paused, then added, “That is all.”
“Very well,” Stevens said. “And do you still have an arrangement like before?”
“No,” Owen said.
“Do you plan on having any arrangements or relationship in the future?”
Owen paused, then shook his head. “I do not.”
My stomach dropped. Knowing Owen, he wouldn’t lie, not even in a situation like this. I knew we were better off without each other, but this selfish need inside of me wanted to know that he at least wanted to try. Even if it was in vain. It felt like my heart was shrinking, knowing that he didn’t want a future with me.
“Miss Hunt,” Stevens said.
“I would love to point out Michael’s own history with the department and what he does with his free time,” Rebecca Hunt said. She stared at Michael from across the table. She was older, the skin sagging around her mouth, with firetruck red hair and cat eye glasses perched at the bottom of her nose. Michael’s eyebrows raised, his pretend confusion obvious. “But we all know that, don’t we? And that’s not the reason we’re here.” She stood up straight. “Riley Glass has the most breadth and depth in any sculpture portfolio I’ve seen in a decade, and with more meaning in each piece than any graduate student from any department in a very long time.” She shook her head. “I nominated her portfolio for the scholarship because she has the most merit, beyond any doubt. The committee agreed. Lowell does not give recommendations for the graduate, nor the undergraduate, admissions. While we are grateful for his continued contributions, he simply donates money.”
Thank you, thank you, thank you! I squealed in my head. At least the sculpture department was on my side. “Is that all, Miss Hunt?” Stevens asked.
“I’ve said everything that needs to be said.”
“And finally, Miss Glass,” Stevens said.
I hadn’t actually written a statement, but I knew what I wanted to say. I stood. “It’s true that I was—” I paused, thinking about it. I corrected myself, “That I am friends with Mr. Lowell. We did have a relationship for a short time.” I used the word ‘relationship’ on purpose, so that everyone, including Owen, would know that an ‘arrangement’ wasn’t what we had. It was more than that, and our past deserved that respect, even if stating the truth meant jeopardizing my status with the Foundation. “But we ended it. We’re friends based on our shared interests, and while he offered to introduce me to the right people at the Foundation, I refused. I wanted to be here on my own.” Tears welled up in my eyes. Grayson popped into my head, my own father’s lack of faith in me, how he never believed in my mother, or me. And now that I was finally here, now that I was finally this close, my dreams were still beyond my reach. Another obstacle, another fence, another wall to climb over. Once the tears were forced into submission, I said, “I am here on my own.” I couldn’t help but notice how ‘my own’ and ‘alone’ sounded similar. To be judged in a room full of people and to know that hardly any of them thought you deserved something you had worked so hard for, was like waking up one day and not being able to speak. What was I supposed to do now? My eyes locked with Owen’s, and in that instant, I was on his doorstep again, his arms around me. It was all you, Riley. “I did it alone,” I said.
“The admissions committee cannot deny your talents, Miss Glass. However, it is not appropriate for a benefactor or a faculty member to have a relationship with a student. You will be put on probation. You will retain your acceptance, but your scholarship will be up for review at the end of the semester,” Stevens said. “This meeting is dismissed.”
Everyone stood up, but I sat there in a numbed daze. Michael smiled and pushed his blond hair back. When we made eye contact, there was laughter in his eyes. I had worked harder to be there than he ever had, and if the committee thought I deserved the scholarship, then I did; Owen, nor Michael, didn’t have anything to do with it. Owen didn’t look at me as he walked out of the room, and it hurt like a punch to the stomach. I wondered if—no, I hoped that he was doing it to preserve the idea that we weren’t anything anymore, even if we secretly wanted to be more.
Stevens was the last one to exit. I was still sitting at my seat in shock, too embarrassed to move. He tapped my shoulder before leaving.
“I’ll review your portfolio in three months. Twenty new pieces. Like the application.”
“Thank you, Director Stevens,” I said. He nodded and left.