Lessons After Class.

Chapter 8

Prof Mi Jun stared at me for a long moment.

The silence stretched between us. It felt thick, like air before rain. His office smelled faintly of books and clean paper. I stood straight but my shoulders felt weak. My fingers were folded together so tight that they hurt.

“Submit a formal application. CV included. Dress properly next time”.

“Yes sir”, the words left my mouth but they did not feel real. They floated out and disappeared.

I turned to leave. My hand touched the door handle.

“Hana.”

I froze.

“Do not bring coffee again”.

I nodded. I did not trust my voice anymore.

When I stepped out of his office, my legs almost gave out. I walked two steps and leaned against the wall. My chest felt tight, like something was pressing on it from the inside. My head spun lightly. I closed my eyes and breathed.

In.

Out.

Why did he make me feel so small and so seen at the same time?

I hated that feeling. I hated that someone could look at me and make me feel like I was twelve years old again. Like I was standing in front of my parents waiting to be corrected.

I checked the time on my phone. Ten minutes to class.

I wiped my palms on my skirt and pushed myself away from the wall. I walked slowly toward the lecture hall. Each step felt heavier than the last.

When I entered, the hall was almost empty. I sat in the front row like I always did. Alone. I liked being early. It gave me control. Or at least the feeling of it.

I placed my bag beside me and stared at the board. My mind replayed his voice. Dress properly next time. Do not bring coffee again.

Students started coming in. One sat behind me and dropped his bag loudly. Two girls whispered and laughed near the door. Someone complained about an assignment. Life was moving. Normal.

When Prof Mi Jun walked in, the room went quiet.

He did not look at me. Not once.

He taught like nothing was wrong. Like we had not shared a strange moment in his house days ago. Like I had not stood in his office feeling exposed. His voice was steady. Calm. Controlled.

I tried to focus. I really did.

I wrote notes. I underlined words and highlighted some things I needed to revise later. I nodded at the right moments.

But my mind kept drifting.

To Yemi.

To confusion.

To Professor Mi Jun.

I don’t know why I felt this way but I was so angry. With Yemi. With myself.

I thought about Yemi’s unanswered messages. About how I had ignored him. About how tired I felt. About how everything seemed to demand something from me at once.

When class was almost over, Prof Mi Jun cleared his throat.

“I am on the lookout for a professor assistant. Interested students should send their CV and cover letter to his mail. Shortlisted candidates would be contacted”

My heart jumped so hard it scared me.

I felt heat rush to my face. I stared at my notebook and pretended to write.

After class, I walked out slowly. My phone rang. It was Melissa.

“Did you survive?” She asked me.

“Barely”

“Yemi is still calling”.

“I know”, I answered.

I ended the call and stood there for a moment. Students passed me on both sides. The hallway felt louder than usual. My head felt full.

Everything felt like it was shifting. Slowly. Quietly. Like the ground under my feet was no longer solid.

I walked outside. The sun hit my face harshly. I took a few steps and suddenly my vision blurred. My legs felt weak. I saw myself falling.

I was falling.

Suddenly strong arms caught me.

A familiar smell surrounded me. Warm. Calm.

My eyes were closing but I knew that smell anywhere. It was safety. It was home.

It was Yemi.

“Ife mi are you okay?” He asked.

I opened my eyes. His face was close. His eyes were full of worry.

“I am good. What are you doing here?” I asked him surprised.

Although we attend the same school by name. My campus which is the law school is farther from the arts school. It is quite a distance.

“I have been worried sick about you”, he said.

I stepped back. My chest hurt.

“I just needed some time alone to think”.

I started walking.

“Can we please talk?” He asked gently.

I stopped.

We went to a restaurant outside the school. It was not fancy. It was not a fancy restaurant.

The building sat close to the road with a small parking lot in front. Some cars were old, some were new, all parked without order. The sign above the door was bright but worn. The colors had faded a little from years of sun and rain.

When you stepped inside, the smell of fried food and sugar hit you first. The place was loud but not in a bad way. Voices mixed together. People talking over each other. I had not eaten all day. My stomach growled softly.

I ordered a large fry, a burger, and a Dr Pepper. Yemi ordered a chicken sandwich and apple juice.

We ate in silence at first. I stared at my food. Yemi watched me like he was waiting for something.

Then I talked.

I told him about missing my alarm. About the form. About Prof Mi Jun. About feeling like everything was slipping from my hands.

He listened. He always did.

When I finished, he wiped his lips with a napkin.

“I listened to you speak and all I hear is anger. I am sorry about everything that happened that day. From your lecturer to your form. But babe, all this would not have been an issue if you had told me your plans. You said you did but you did not. This tantrum feels like shifting blame on me”.

“Tantrum?” I asked.

“Yes. Tantrum. I love you but this is too toxic”, he said still calm.

“So now I am toxic”

“Do not twist my words”, he said firmly with his voice becoming sharper and higher.

“Your day was messed up. I get that. But you cannot blame me. You did not set your alarm and expected me to wake you. You accused me of not waking you when you never told me about your appointment. You ignored me all day and now I am at fault”, he added.

“Yemi…”

His voice was higher than normal now.

“I tried asking about your day when we could talk properly. Instead you shut me out for days. I missed a very important class to be here. And now I find out I was never the problem. If that is not toxic then I do not know what is”, he said as he stood up.

“Babe I am sorry. I was just overwhelmed”, after hearing him speak and react in this way, I realized he was right.

I touched his arm to soften the mess I created but he pulled away.

“Please sit down”, I asked nicely.

“I love you. I do so much for us. I just want communication. The barest minimum. When you’re ready for that, let me know”

He dropped the payment of the bill on the table and walked out.

Outside, he walked fast. I followed him. My legs burned.

“Yemi, I am really sorry”.

He stopped at his car.

“I am not the cause of your problems Hana. I cannot know what goes on in your head if you do not tell me. I am not your village people”, he said these last words, entered his car and drove off.

I stood there alone in the parking lot.

The noise of cars passed me by. People laughed nearby. Life continued.

I ordered an Uber back to campus. I still had my tort law class to attend.