Between Then & Now || Currently Editing for Wattys 2022

3.

"No, Ma, it's LA. I don't think you'll have a problem finding a hotel." My footsteps echo down the hallway as I walk-jog up the staircase to my professor's office.

"But it's graduation weekend. There will be thousands of people going out there, Lala." Over the phone, I can hear my mom ruffling papers, her business sheets and personal information probably all scattered together on one desk. She never was the best at planning.

That is how I got here, after all.

"And they come out here every year because people graduate every year. I'm sure you'll be just fine." I stop in front of a heavy, dark wooden door, glancing at the plaque next to it. Dr. Loretta Walker. "Okay, I have to drop off this paper. I'll call you back later."

She doesn't even reply, muttering what's probably a bunch of nonsense under her breath. My eyes roll in my head, and I silently chuckle as I hit the red "end call" symbol on my phone, picturing her searching for one specific paper amongst the mound on her desk.

Almost instantaneously, the dark wooden door to my left swings open and my mentor walks out, the smile on her face brighter than ever. "Ola. I thought that was you!" She nods her head, inviting me into her office. Her coiled, black hair bounces a bit. "Come in, I'll make us some tea."

The corners of my mouth turn up and I follow her into her office, adjusting the black folder in my hands. Dr. Walker has been the best mentor I could have asked for, helping me ease into this predominantly male field ever since I came to the University of Southern California. Over the last four years, I've grown fond of the smell of old books and chamomile and ink filling her office, having spent hours here each week. And her constant offerings of tea–tea, I should note, she even grew in her own garden.

My Ma thinks she's one of the Fae.

For once, I have to admit that she might not be wrong.

Dr. Walker turns around, the electric kettle still releasing steam from the shelf behind her as I settle into one of the leather chairs across from her desk, holding a steaming cup of tea in her hand. "How's your Ma doing?" She walks around her desk, coming to the side nearest me.

I blink, startled, and, after a moment, take the cup of tea from her outstretched arm.

The golden sunlight streaming through her office's dusty windows paints highlights across her dark skin like a bronze statue. She hops up to sit on her desk and chuckles a little. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear part of your conversation in the hallway and figured you would be speaking with her. I do hope her metaphysical store is doing well. You should let her know I bought some obsidian for myself last week." She nods to her desk. On the right side sits a large piece of polished obsidian and, next to it, the chunk of amethyst my mother sent her after she helped me with my senior project. "It definitely has been a lot calmer in here since she gave me that. Don't you think?"

I laugh and blow on the tea to cool it down a bit. "Don't tell me she's been trying to recruit you."

"No, of course not! She's very respectful of other people's beliefs. But I do think the empowerment she finds in her own spirituality is admirable." She takes a sip of her own tea, her brown eyes shifting away from the obsidian on her desk and back towards me. "It's difficult for women to find empowerment in a society that's never really aimed to empower them."

"Oh, yeah." I hand her the black folder with my final paper in it. "Trying to find films for this paper definitely taught me that."

Setting her tea down on the desk behind her, steam waving sporadically in the air, Dr. Walker reaches forward, gently taking the folder from my outstretched hand. Without even looking down, she grabs her glasses off the desk beside her, effortlessly placing them onto the bridge of her nose. Silently, she flips open the folder and peers down at the paper inside. For a moment, she just reads the front page. By now, I know to just be patient, sip my tea, and wait for her to glance up. Because it'll be worth it.

"Interesting film choices. Locker Room. The Neighbors' Window. Catalyst. All short films. Why did you choose these?" Her eyes capture mine over the top of the folder.

"Because... they're all about women and feminism... but they all only discuss these issues alongside other issues. Eating disorders. Sexual harassment. Aging and motherhood. They never discuss women... in the pure context of women and feminism. It's like society doesn't know what women are without the stereotypical gendered issues we associate with them."

She pauses for a moment, pursing her lips. "And why do you think that might be?"

My pause mirrors hers. Then, I shrug my shoulders. "I'm not sure. We always have to be something else to... Something else in order to make our struggle truly valid, or whatever. There just... never seems to be a space in film for women to.... just be women."

"You can be the woman who changes that."

I look up at her, shaken a bit. "Yeah, I suppose." Softly, I follow, "But how do I even do that?"

"That part," she smiles down at me through her bifocals, "is entirely up to you."

Suddenly a knock comes at the door and we both turn our eyes to the noise. In the door frame, with a smile on his face stands Mr. Walker. His German accent is thick when he says, "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting?"

Dr. Walker looks up at him, her eyes and smile as probably just as bright as when they first met. She shakes her head, and I stand up.

"No, not at all. I actually was just about to head out–my Ma seems to be having troubles figuring out the internet again." The Walkers both turn and smile at me, Dr. Walker gracefully hopping off her desk. "Just hippie things I guess."

I make sure to grab my mug and set it next to Dr. Walker's on the desk before giving her a hug. "Thank you so much for all your help these four years."

In her motherly way, she rubs my back and, then, pulling away from the hug, holds my shoulders at arm's length. "And I would do it again. You're going to do great things, Murphy. I know this isn't the last time we'll see each other."

My smile is bittersweet as she lets me go.

If only she knew I had absolutely no idea what the hell I was going to do after graduation.

"Oh, I'm sure we will." I smile a bit brighter and nod in agreement. Her eyes seem deep and infinite when I look back into them and, for a moment, I wonder if maybe she sees right through the faux-confidence. But she just smiles encouragingly.

I barely catch her wink as she slides a cold, flat object into my hands. When I look down, I find an old copy of A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf. When I catch Dr. Walker's eyes again, she winks.

"After all, you do have a feminist manifesto to get on."