DO I HAVE A THING WITH MY PROFESSOR?

Lilac.

At twenty, I had mastered the art of staying invisible.

I move slowly between two rows in the crowded lecture hall as my eyes scan the seats for a column with scarce students, or less high-class people.

Once I find it in the fourth to the first column, I take my seat and bend my head over my notebook, scribbling words I barely understand.

It’s not like I’m not smart. I am. But life has taught me to shrink. It has made me get used to avoiding attention and existing quietly.

Well, until him…

Silence follows the new lecturer the moment he walks in. Usually, I wouldn’t care about that. But this particular moment stuns me. It captures my attention despite the deafening quietness.

And I’m not the only one.

While the others wow in their amazement, mine lingers in my head, leaking into my heart and forming a big ball of light that threatens to explode through my eyes.

The man standing on the podium is nothing like the lecturers I’ve met in my two years of being in college.

He’s different. Too different.

His presence commands attention without trying, his height as intimidating as his composure is compelling.

‘Dr. Adrian Cole,’ he sketches on the whiteboard in bold and signature-like letters.

“You may simply address me as Cole, if you wish,” he states calmly with a voice that carries authority and something softer beneath it.

“I will be taking you on Literature,” he continues, “which isn’t just about words, but about what we are too afraid to say.”

“Sir!” a voice bounces through the hall. I look around, confused as all eyes turn to me.

Wait! That was me! I am the one who just interrupted the teacher, and now my hand is hanging up in the air, and I don’t know how to stand up and defend my action.

For some moments, Cole’s eyes meet mine, and everything stills. Embarrassment flushes over me, and I can actually feel my cheeks burning.

“Yes, Miss…”

“Stone.” I nervously rise to my feet. “My name is Lilac Stone.”

“Alright. Miss Lilac Stone, what did you want to add?”

I find myself searching deeply for what to say.

What was I going to say?

“Um…” I lick my lips, my fingers twisting with nervousness in front of my thighs. “I um… I was going to ask how literature is not just about words but about what we’re too afraid to say.”

Cole smiles while nodding. “Okay. Good question.” 

I try to sit down, but the lecturer stops me. “Uh-uh. Keep standing while I present another question to you, Miss Stone,” he notes, and I quietly obey. “What do you do in a situation where you offend someone you care about, for example? Now you wanna apologize, but you cannot really see yourself speaking to them one on one—sometimes due to pride, other times because you’re… embarrassed.”

I rack my brain for a response. Left to me, I would let the matter die down. Although, if it still lingers, I could send a text with my apology…

“Send a text?” I respond.

The class bursts into laughter, and I really don’t know why. A wider smile appears on the lecturer’s face too.

“You are correct, Miss Stone. Now how this relates to Literature is basically…”

I don’t give a fuck about what Cole has to say about literature. In fact, I wasn’t even a tiny bit curious about what I asked.

I guess I just did that to get his attention, and I saw the shock on the faces of the class. They know I don’t participate in class activities. This could well be my first time ever saying a thing in class since last semester.

But… here we are.

I broke the barrier!

I’m standing in a class of a hundred students, making eye contact with a bloody lecturer while having all sorts of mixed emotions tumble within me.