My Graduate School Romance Ch. 01

This story is a slow burn. Eventually things will get hot, but not yet. Not in this chapter. I think the long term reward will be worth the wait. This story is set in the late aughts (2000s). Remember things were slightly different then.

Please bear with me as I write this. My real life is a bit complex at the moment. Also, these characters have a mind of their own and I'm not sure where it's going.

Remember, this is fiction. The characters in this story are flawed, just like you and me. Sometimes they make bad decisions as they struggle to live their lives. Sometimes they make life changing decisions. Again, all characters and situations are complete fiction, a product of my fertile imagination. Any similarity to actual people and situations is purely a coincidence. All constructive criticism is welcome.

First Saturday in October

_ _ _ _ _

Dr. Wilson placed the paper face down on my desk, "Sean, let's talk at the break."

I flipped it over and looked down at my paper. It appeared she had slit her wrist while grading it. At first glance I couldn't see a single sentence that hadn't been subjected to her red pen. Well that's an auspicious start to the doctoral program. She's probably going to tell me I should consider something else.

Our class met every Saturday. This was our fourth meeting. Dr. Wilson sat down on top of the desk at the front of the room and crossed her legs. "I know some of you will have questions about your paper. During the break or after class, I'll be happy to discuss your work with you for as long as you want. In the meantime, let's focus on our discussion."

The next hour went well and I thoroughly enjoyed our class discussion. I was by far the oldest in the class and time and again I used my life experiences to provide examples for my classmates. I was particularly smitten by a flaxen-haired beauty named Lori. I had made her acquaintance during the last class. Now she seemed to be engaged with every comment I made. Several times she made a point of asking a clarifying question after I said something. I was going to have to get to know her better, if only to have friend in the program, but perhaps more.

At the first break I refilled my coffee mug and waited for my classmates to meet with Dr. Wilson. She was a matronly woman who had retired the previous year. I would guess she was in her late sixties or early seventies. She had told us on day one that this course was her way of "keeping her mind active in retirement." She had asked us to call her 'Nancy,' a request that my military mind chose to ignore. Instead, I usually called her ma'am or Dr. Wilson. I stepped up when the last of my classmates had finished with her.

"Ah, Sean. I loved your paper."

"With all due respect ma'am, it looks like I drove you to a suicide attempt and you slit your wrists."

She chuckled, "Oh, nonsense. You have some excellent ideas in there, some really compelling examples. Some of your imagery is heart breaking. If you read through my comments, they aren't all bad. I try to provide as much feedback as possible. Since this is your first course in the program, I'd like you to continue working on the paper and resubmit it next Saturday."

"Is that allowed?"

"Sean, this isn't the Navy. My goal is to help you learn and develop your mind, not to keep strict deadlines."

"Well, thank you ma'am."

"I wish you'd call me Nancy."

"Sorry, that's hard. I even call my daughter ma'am."

"I guess I should appreciate your politeness. I recommend you take your paper over to Sampson Hall. That's where our Writing Studio is and the writing associates are amazing to work with. I take all my papers there."

"Sounds like good advice."

"I am a firm believer in having at least one other set of eyes look at my work. The more, the better. A long time ago one of my professors told me that good writing is 70% editing. Think about that."

"Well, thank you Dr. Wilson. I'll get it back to you at the start of our next class."

I turned around to see Lori waiting for me, "Hi Sean, I have to say I love these examples that you give us."

She was nearly as tall as I was. Now that she wasn't seated, I could see all of her lovely figure. Rather than ogle her, I chose to keep my eyes under control and I locked in on her baby blues, "Thanks. When I enrolled in this program I had doubts on whether I could make a contribution."

She touched my elbow, "I think you're already making a great contribution. I wanted to tell you about a group of doctoral students who get together on Tuesday evenings to discuss anything and everything."

"Sounds like fun."

"We have a regular table in the back of Pete's Pub. Seven o'clock. We have a beer or two and a lot of good ideas have come out of it. It's sort of like the Viennese coffeehouses, but with beer."

I laughed, "Well now I'm definitely showing up."

Dr. Wilson called out, "OK, let's get back to work."

_ _ _ _ _

When the class let out just before noon, I decided to find Sampson Hall. The trees were just starting to turn on this lovely early autumn afternoon. I didn't encounter very many people as I strolled across campus. Sampson Hall was an older, three-story building just off the central quad. The Writing Studio was the first room inside the main entrance and I poked my head in. I heard a chime.

A female voice called out, "Come in."

I walked in and found a spacious, high-ceilinged room with work tables scattered about. A young woman sat behind a reception desk.

"How can I help you?"

I pulled my paper out of my satchel and handed it to her, "My professor recommended that I come here for help with my writing."

"Do you have time right now? My twelve o'clock never showed and I have the next 50 minutes free."

"That would be great."

"Let me get some information from you for our records. Do you have your student ID?"

I handed the card to her and she began typing.

She read aloud, "Sean O'Brien. My name is Astrid. Oh, you're a graduate student."

"Yes, I just started the Ph.D. program in Sociology."

"That's wonderful. I just started as well. I'm hoping to get a doctorate in English, Rhetoric, and Writing."

I must have had a surprised look on my face, "I know. Everyone thinks I'm an undergrad, but I'm going to be twenty-eight here in a couple of weeks."

"Actually, I didn't think that. I was just think how difficult it must be to study writing."

"That's kind of you. I find it fascinating." She handed my ID card back. "If you don't mind, let's move over to a table."

I followed Astrid's lead and moved toward the nearest table. As she came from around the desk, I immediately noticed her tight jeans highlighting a slim waist and attractive hips. I sat down across from her.

"It might be easier if you were to sit here next to me." She patted the chair. "That way we can both see the paper. Before we start what can you tell me about the assignment?"

I pulled out my notebook and showed her the prompt. "We were asked to write a nine to eleven page paper on a microeconomic problem that we have witnessed first-hand. I chose to write about that I saw outside the Subic Bay Naval Station in the Philippines, abject poverty."

Astrid looked up at me and I was immediately struck by her brown eyes. She locked in on me and held my gaze. "Were you in the Navy?"

"Yes, ma'am. Twenty-five years. I just got out in February."

"Twenty-five years? I was thinking you were only in your early thirties."

"No. I'm actually quite ancient. I've got nearly twenty years on you. I'll be forty-eight in November."

"That's not ancient. It must be that red hair. Really. I thought you were only a few years older than me."

"Now you're being kind." I couldn't look away from those eyes and she continued to hold my gaze. It was as if she was sizing me up while boring into my soul. I felt a stirring in my crotch.

Astrid explained, "It is our practice here to read everything aloud. I think it really helps. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. Whatever you think is best."

Astrid finally broke eye contact and began reading my paper. With her focus on my work I was able to check her out. She was petite with brown hair and blonde highlights. She wore her wavy hair loose with a ringlet here and there. She had a cute nose. Her face was tanned with a hint of sunburn on her cheeks. It didn't appear that she wore makeup, although there was a touch of gloss on her red lips. She wore a baggy university t-shirt that hinted at her figure.

She had a green pen that she made annotations with. Occasionally she would comment on the quality of a sentence. It was an unusual experience having someone read my work to me. Every so often it was obvious that my phrasing was off and she would circle it with her pen. At other times a sentence would sound really good and Astrid would nod her head in approval, putting a star by it.

When she had finished, she turned to me, "Some of this is absolutely fascinating. Your words really tore at my heartstrings when you described the children on the street and the women who are sex workers. It is a really compelling work. You put the reader there on the streets of Olongapo. That's right?" She looked back at the paper, "Yes, Olongapo."

"Thanks, but I can hear a lot of places my work can be improved. Reading aloud is an interesting technique."

For the remainder of the hour Astrid, showed me how I could improve my phrasing and my sentence structure. I had never really given a lot of thought to topic sentences, but the way she explained it made sense.

With about five minutes to go a scraggly guy walked in and sat against the wall. Astrid called out, "Almost done Andrew."

I asked, "Can I set up another appointment with you some time before next Saturday? I want to go back and rework this and get your input when I'm done."

"That would be great. I'd love to see how you fix things." She walked over to the computer. "How about Tuesday evening at 6?"

I wrote it down. "Sounds great. See you then." I gathered up my things.

Astrid held out her hand and I shook it, once again locking eyes with her, "I'm so glad I got to meet you."

"Likewise," I headed for the door and gave Andrew a nod as I passed him.

As I passed through the door I heard him say, "I hate that you have to help guys."

"So you only think I should help women?"

The door closed before I could hear the rest of the conversation. Only help women? It sounded like Andrew was either a bit of a control freak or was very jealous.

_ _ _ _ _

I spent that evening and the next reworking my paper. Something inside me really wanted to present a well written paper to Astrid. I thought it was funny that I was more interested in gaining her approval than Dr. Wilson's.

On Tuesday evening, I walked through the door at five minutes to six and Astrid gave a little clap. "I love how you military guys are so prompt."

"Time and tide wait for no one. Being on time was pounded into us from day one."

"Well, I for one really appreciate it. Sarah, can you note that Sean is here?"

Her colleague behind the desk smiled, "Already done."

Astrid motioned to a table toward the back of the room, "Let's go back here. This will give us some privacy."

She wore a pleated skirt that came to just above her knee, accentuating some lovely legs. Following her I noticed the subtle sway of her hips. This time she was wearing a more flattering t-shirt that accentuated her small, pert breasts. I could detect a bra, but when she turned I could see it was thin and allowed a hint of nipple to press against the material. She took a seat and her eyes locked in on mine.

I handed her the latest edition of the paper, "I really tried to take all the things you told me into account. I hope you like this version."

Astrid smiled, "I'm looking forward to it."

She hesitated for several moments, gazing into my eyes. "Right. Reading." She seemed a little flustered, then began reading aloud. Her green pen circled one or two things, but mostly she had put stars on parts she enjoyed.

When she had finished she took a deep breath, then looked into my eyes again, "Sean that was so good." I could see tears welling, "You paint a really powerful picture of the poverty these people suffer." A tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it away, "Sorry. I'm not supposed to get emotional with my clients, but I can't help it." She placed her hand on mine. "I mean it. That was really powerful."

"Thank you, Astrid. This is the whole reason I want to get a Ph.D. -- to help people like this."

"Well, I think you have some noble aspirations." She went on to explain the couple of sentences that she thought needed adjustment.

It was now about half past six. Astrid looked up into my eyes again, "Sean, that's all I have for you. I hope you'll come back with all your papers. I love working with you."

I smiled, "I enjoy working with you as well."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

I shrugged, "Fire away."

"I hope you won't think I'm too forward, but most forty-eight year old guys are married. I don't see a wedding ring."

I grimaced, "I'm divorced. It was completely my fault. Let's just say that I didn't always handle the stress of being a Navy Pilot very well."

Astrid blushed and placed her hand on mine again, "I'm sorry. I think I touched on a sore spot."

"It's alright. It was a fair question. I take it you're going out with the fella I saw here on Saturday."

"Yeah. That's Andrew. He's sort of my on again, off again boyfriend."

"Why 'on again, off again'?"

"He not the most reliable person, but I guess he's sweet to me and I've known him since undergrad days. He followed me here from California. We sort of have a history. History is comfortable."

"I can understand that."

Didn't sound like Andrew was anything to write home about. We sat there for another minute or so, just gazing into each other's eyes.

Astrid shook her head, "I'm sorry. You probably have things to do."

"Actually I was invited to the Tuesday evening doctoral student meet up. It's over at Pete's Pub. Starts at seven."

"That sounds cool, but I don't get off until ten."

"Well, I'm sure we'll still be there if you decide to stop by."

"Thanks. I think I might."

_ _ _ _ _

I arrived at Pete's a few minutes before seven. Lori and five others had a table in the back. Lori took the lead and introduced me to the group as a former Navy Pilot. Pablo was a tall, thin Hispanic who tried to impress me with his strong handshake. His fiancée Karen was a curvy platinum blonde who gave me a very flirty smile. That doesn't appear to be a very strong relationship. Tracy and Carole were introduced as a couple. Tracy sported a crewcut dyed purple. A leather jacket covered a husky frame. Carole was a very feminine, petite brunette with a bit of a Southern drawl. Finally, Maria was introduced as coming from southern Italy. She had jet black hair and a very nice figure. All appeared to be in their thirties.

I sat down next to Lori and I could feel some vibe she was putting out that she had dibs on me.

I thought I would focus on what I knew, "Maria, I've spent a lot of time in your country."

She had a slight accent that was charming, "Oh, where?"

"Sigonella, in Sicily. I was deployed there twice. About a year total."

"Ah. I am from Brindisi, as you Americans like to say -- it is on the heel of the boot. How did you like my country?"

"Fantastico. I loved it. Great food. Wonderful people. Amazing wine. Did I mention the great food?"

My companions laughed and a waitress appeared, "Have you decided what you would like?"

Pablo spoke up, "We'd like a pitcher of Sam Adams."

I raised my hand, "Do you have a menu? I haven't eaten yet."

"A pitcher of Sam and a menu. Anything else?"

Lori looked around then said, "No, we're good."

Carole brought me up to speed on how the group worked. "Sean, in general, we allow ourselves to bring any idea so long as it pertains to something in our doctoral work."

I raised a finger and Carole nodded at me, "I'm studying sociology. I don't want to assume the rest of you are studying that."

"Good point. Lori and Maria are sociology. Pablo is Spanish literature. Tracy and I are philosophy. Karen is psychology.

"Glad I asked."

The waitress brought a menu.

"Here, I can make this quick." I glanced at the menu, "How about a cheeseburger with lettuce and tomato and an extra-large order of fries for the table."

"I'll put that in right away."

The conversation quickly centered on whether we thought morality was a universal truth or relative to a society.

Pablo made a case that it was universal, "Take murder. Everywhere you look murder is bad."

I countered, "But what if that murder is in a war and you are killing your enemy? We accept that."

"But that isn't murder."

Tracy laughed, "Are you fucking kidding me? Someone kills another human being and that isn't murder?"

Pablo looked hurt, "Because it's war."

"It doesn't matter if it's war. Killing is killing is killing. It's all bad. It's all murder."

Maria joked, "The Smiths had an album Meat is Murder. In order to get meat you must kill."

I laughed, "Thanks for reminding me as my hamburger arrives."

Everyone laughed as the waitress placed the plate in front of me.

I waved to my companions, "Dig in. The fries are for everyone." I turned to Lori, "Would you like to share part of this burger? It's huge."

"Okay, but just a little."

"How about a quarter?"

"Sounds good."

I cut up the burger and Lori scooted right next to me so that our shoulders touched. I felt her knee against mine. This has some possibilities. When she was finished she still stayed close.

The conversation jumped around a bit, but it was quite intellectually stimulating. We ended up finishing two pitchers of beer.

Tracy looked at her watch, "Oh shit. It's after eleven. I gotta work in the morning."

I stood, "I should be going as well. Thank you everyone for a really great evening. I thoroughly enjoyed this."

Lori walked out with me, "Didn't I tell you that it was a great group?"

"You were right. Can anyone come?"

"Sure. Although if it gets much bigger it might not be as much fun."

"Good point."

"So I don't mean to be forward, but do you have any plans for the weekend?"

"I was planning on cramming for our Saturday class on Friday night, but Saturday I'm free."

"Maybe dinner? My treat."

"I take it you don't adhere to traditional dating roles."

"Oh, that the man has to buy? No, I don't."

"Just so you know, I don't fall into the poor grad student category."

"I didn't think you did. I just thought it would be nice to spend some time with you."

"In that case, I would love to go to dinner with you."

We had arrived at her car. Lori gave me a broad smile, "Wonderful. We can make plans after class. See you then."

She gave me a peck on the cheek, then jumped in her car.

A little flabbergasted I said, "See you."

_ _ _ _ _

After class that Saturday, Lori and I made plans for that evening. At least she was going to let me pick her up. There was a Greek restaurant that she had heard was good. We had reservations for six.

We went our separate ways and I picked up a copy of the school newspaper. There was an ad by a band called Radio Renaissance that was looking for a guitarist. I called the number and spoke with a woman named Elena. She asked me some questions about the music I liked and how long I had been playing. I really didn't need the extra money, but the idea of making some music again was exciting. Plus the band sounded promising and I thought I could fit in pretty well. They were playing Smith's Tavern this Thursday and Elena said I was welcome to stop by and check them out.