I walked back into work feeling optimistic and empowered. I would file the dreaded HR complaint and finally get Roger out of my life. There would be interviews and an inter-office investigation, but it would be worth it in the long run. Inappropriate comments were one thing, openly assaulting me was an entirely different can of worms. Not to say the comments were acceptable, but they hadn’t seemed nearly as threatening when his assaults were purely verbal.
When I rounded the corner toward our offices, my eyes found Roger’s assistant, Beverly. She was a middle-aged woman who was pleasant enough, but I’d never spent all that much time talking to her. Roger preferred to work directly with me, of course, and Beverly mostly kept to herself. She peered up at me from her desk and gave me a tight smile that was laden with pity.
She knew.
It was there, etched in each of her features, leaving no room for question. She had called into the office as a distraction, knowing exactly what Roger had been doing.
A blur of emotions turned the lunch in my stomach into a heavy lump—gratitude to the older woman for helping me and excruciating embarrassment. We both knew I wasn’t to blame, but that didn’t stop the waves of shame from bringing a heated glow to my skin as I scurried into my office.