M A I C O
GM
P A R T O N E
WITH great enthusiasm, Dr. Eric Sundell began his first lecture of the Fall semester. âThere is, however, speculation on this subject as some of you may have already heard. Rumors have flown that Dr. Garbarino actually touches on the subject in his Western Civilization course, and today, mark your calendars, please, I am here to correct his philosophical falsehood.â Eric gave a radiant and animated smile as he spoke these words.
His tall Scandinavian physique commanded attention and to his male studentsâ dismay and his female studentâs intrigue. Of course, he was not too interested in any of them, as he had a beautiful full-fledged Japanese wife at home, who he liked to describe as the perfect Proverbs 31 woman. With her, they both had two intelligent, well-behaved, beautiful half-Japanese daughters, and the professor was more than keen on preserving his familyâs unity.
With his large hands spread out in front of his smiling face, his tall body shifted in a charismatic way, âThis is exciting! Iâm making history here!â His blue eyes scanned over his students. His smile turned even more overly enthusiastic and toothy, âI saw some of you yawn, but I can assure you, you will not want to miss this! Not because itâs fun or exciting⊠Well, it is for people like me, but because this bit of understanding will be on each and every one of my examinations.â
Noises were heard from the students. Most of it seemed a little disgruntled, a few snorted laughs, but most of it was the sound of notebooks shuffling open and ticks on laptops as documents were opened for note taking. Minus the groans, that was one of Ericâs favorite sounds.
âNow that I have your attention: when studying historical findings such as art and writing, it is of utmost importance to distinguish what the creator was intending to teach and preserve. We have to get into the mindset of the creator. We have to study their psyche!â His head was nodding with that smile on his face. Several of the female students seemed to be adoring his dog-like loyalty to his subject. Only a few male students were looking at him with respectful admiration.
He clicked a button on his black pointer, and the image on the projector he stood in front of changed. Two outdated paintings in the Greek eikones style appeared on the left with brief text points on the right. One of the pictures was of a balding man with long gray facial hair. The other was of a tan Jesus Christ, with a small amount of brown facial hair.
âDr. Garbarino, along with some other historians,â his eyes rolled with this statement, âin reference to the Roman Catacombs believe that Jesus and the apostles did not have facial hair.â Another mock gesture was made, and several laughs of actual interest followed suit. âWhile it is historically accurate that men during that time frame followed the fashion of keeping themselves clean shaven, Jesus and his closest followers were not, philosophically speaking, following the vanities of this world. Jews also rarely followed the fashion standards, which coincidentally set them apart from the Romans.â He was still nodding affirmatively to his statement and therefore captivating several more eager students in the front row.
âIt is important to note that Jesus was recognized in those early picturural depictions in the catacombs by what he was doing, not what he looked like. Interesting, right?â He paused for dramatic effect. âI totally agree. This is why understanding the creator of these works is of utmost importance. Or else, we could end up being like Dr. Garbarino, who erroneously believes Jesus fashioned himself like a citizen, who paid tribute to the Roman gods! He was a Jew, remember? Can you imagine having a doctoral in history and not understanding this basic concept?â Several more snickers were heard. âTrust me. Youâre going to thank me, because when youâre done with my class, youâll be able to decipher historical facts that not even many historians can understand! All simply just by learning these easy, basic concepts!â
The lecture on context continued with a more elaborate articulation of interpreting historical finds and how to unlock the preserved truths of history accurately by researching the time period, mindset, and culture of the given society surrounding the historical engravings. He name dropped Dr. Garbarino in a negative light on various occasions and made sure to explain how the man was out of his jurisdiction as the Western Civilization professor trying to impose his views on Eastern civilization.
This was usually one of Ericâs more boring lectures, to his dismay, but he made it a point to make it every semester. It was not necessarily only because he wanted to teach his student how to study history properly and correctly, but because Dr. Garbarino met and married his wife while attending college and never failed to miss a beat on why each and every one of his students should do the same.
Eric, on the other hand, while he thought the story was romantic and nice, also felt students should consider their academia first as a good foundation before allowing the rest to fall into place. College was a well-known breeding ground for highly mischievous and illegal behavior. Dorm rape was sky rocketing around the nation every year, and the amount of underage drinking along with alcohol poisoning at colleges was inevitably on the same streak. Not to mention the murders.
There had been a string of unsolved murders happening every month. There was little rhyme or reason for them, aside from the grotesque way in which the victims were murdered. They also all happened at night. Obviously, college girls were seemingly an easy prey, and Eric had never been on more high alert.
With his oldest daughter Sophia now a freshman at Maico College of Arizona, where he was comfortably employed, Eric felt it even more necessary to prove Dr. Garbarinoâs philosophy downright a poor and misguided choice of failing to understand historical events. Unfortunately, this was ultimately the only way he could muster any ammo. Telling a young adult, freshly removed from his or her parentsâ nest not to have any romantic interest would land him as the laughing stock of the college.
As his lecture was over, having finished a solid six minutes before the lecture period was designated to end, Eric decided to give the students a first-day, early dismissal treat. He began packing his briefcase, and expectantly, awaited the several students who would inevitably come make themselves known before leaving the classroom. Two of those students stood out among the handful that had approached his desk.
One was a young, scrawny, straight-laced, previously homeschooled man, who had a nice complexion despite his abundance of acne. He was definitely smart and could have managed himself in a much better college system. For whatever reason, he or his parents or both had determined this was the place for him. His circumstances reminded him similarly of his daughterâs. He theorized, the young manâs parents must have wanted him close to home.
The second student was a tan curvier girl. She had a little bit of height and an unnaturally good talent at applying her make-up. He could not have been any less interested in her internet boutique bought outfit that begged for a little too much attention from prying eyes. She was mostly interested in tutoring and wondering if he ever met with students outside of class. Students like her were usually handled best with a game of 4-D chess.
THE time was near noon, and he had promised Sophia that he would meet her for lunch. He was eager to know how her first day was going. She had taken several courses over the last two summers, but Eric always found summer school courses less collegiate than the Fall and Spring semesters. Plus, showing off that Sophia was his daughter was something he wanted to make adamantly known around campus. She was off-limits to the men. The fact of the matter was that their brains were not fully developed yet, no matter what constitutes a person a legal adult or not.
They had agreed to meet at the Maico Mocha, a small coffee shop connected to the campus library. He had taken Sophia there before when she was a younger girl. When she became older, he felt uneasy bringing her on campus and pushing her around the young men and their impulsive boundary breaking habits. Some of them had no regard for controlling their roving eyes.
When he entered the libraryâs entrance and turned into the coffee shop, he saw that Sophia had beaten him there. She was seated peacefully at one of the tables near the middle of the cafe. A book was propped open, and she was quietly reading it, not particularly taking notes of anyone or anything around her.
Unbeknownst to most students, they probably could not have guessed how long it had taken his daughter to get dressed this morning. She wasnât dressed in anything super fancy or special, but by the amount of time it took her to get ready and how she presented herself when he told her they had to leave now or never, he could tell she chose every article of clothing with purpose. (His wife Anna had scolded Sophia for not picking an outfit the night before.)
Part of Eric was concerned that Sophia was dressed to impress male students. Another part of Eric was hoping she was dressed to impress her professors, which was the smarter and wiser thing to do. It was also what he commended during various dinner conversations about favorable students he had taught throughout his career.
âExcuse me, but is this seat taken?â Eric put his hand on the back of the seat opposite of his daughter.
Startled, his daughter looked up from her book. Her Asian features offered a stoic face, but underneath the strength to not give away her true feelings, he could see the tremor of a shy woman who was possibly more afraid to speak than to come off as rude by quickly and firmly claiming the chair. This bothered Eric, but he would work with her.
âD-dad?â A smile broke on her face. A flush of thankfulness washed over her demeanor. âI thought you were some⊠random guy,â she said distastefully. Her blue eyes flickered downward in an embarrassed manner, and then she let out a small silent laugh at the thought.
âNo, darling, youâre safe for now,â he assured her as he took his seat across from her. âBut, you never know. College boys, random guys as you call them, have a very strange ability to pop out of anywhere. Thin air even. Trust me. I used to be one. And you, my dear, have to be vigilant.â
He looked around the cafe and made a small laugh, which seemed very similar to the one Sophia had just made. âJust now, I can count five predators who have already been trying to figure out how to take my seat.â
Sophia bashfully put her book down. She smiled, again, suppressing how much she appreciated her fatherâs sentiment, as overbearing as it did seem. She knew he had a point. She had read enough stupid young adult fiction novels. âDonât worry, Dad. Iâm way more interested in my studies than boys. Do you want to get something to eat?â
They both went to the register and ordered a coffee and whatever sandwich of preference that the shop had on display. Eric was going to tease Sophia for ordering a coffee. Her mother thought coffee dehydrated the body and caused premature wrinkles alongside a higher resting heart rate. However, Eric was amused by his daughterâs decision making in the absence of her mother and was also under the scientific belief that coffee was a cancer fighting superfood and the very reason mankind hasnât fallen apart, yet.
The lunch was brief but sweet. Everything seemed fairly in-line, at least from Sophiaâs first day report. She was generally honest and accurate with how she relayed her days and activities. Sometimes, it seemed as if she was reciting herself as if being tested for some oral state examination. He couldnât help but smile at this because, well, she was his daughter, and damn, was he proud.
AFTER lunch and saying her farewell to her father, Sophia left the shop and walked down a paved walkway towards a set of large buildings. She had the campus mostly memorized from her summer school days. It was much busier now that the main semester had started. There was more school spirit, complete with many freshmen dressed in weird first-day outfits that they were suggested to wear from their Freshman Orientation. Sophia couldnât muster up the courage to wear something that would draw so much attention to her.
Her next class was Religious Literature and the Occult. It was actually a horror literature course disguised into something more scholarly sounding. Sophia had very little interest in it, but she had to take it for her English degree. She decided she might as well âget it over and done withâ as her mother would say.
The class was located in the Humanities building, which seemed to be the largest building aside from the science building. She had already had one lecture in the Humanitarian building, which was Western Civilization II with Dr. Garbarino, to her fatherâs dismay. She had heard her father speak negatively about him on many occasions. Of course, he seemed so much less villainous as she sat, front row seat, in his morning lecture. She almost felt sorry for him because of the way her father spoke about him.
Every time she defended Dr. Garbarino in her head, though, she could hear her motherâs voice. âListen to your father. He has his reasons, even if you do not understand them.â Her voice was ridden with a shaming backdrop, and she felt immediately guilty for wanting to see Dr. Garbarino as the young, fresh-faced professor who had everyoneâs best interest at heart. He was also, dare she say, kind of good-looking, unlike all the other students around her who looked more like grade school boys if she was to be honest.
She had to go to the second floor for her class. There was only one elevator in the building. Unfortunately, there was already a herd of students piled in front of it. When she looked towards the stairs, there was a clear opening or straight shoot as her father would say. She decided to take the alternate route as opposed to waiting her turn in a mosh pit that would ultimately land her stuck in a cramped, slow-moving space.
To no surprise, the classroom was about the same size as her Western Civilization II class. The only difference was that there were significantly less students, which left many empty seats between each student. As usual, Sophia chose a front row seat. She knew she would be least distracted if the professor was right in front of her.
As no more students trickled into the classroom, Sophia took out her textbook. There were several other books she had purchased from the campus bookstore that were required reading for the course, but she wasnât sure which one came first. She couldnât have been bothered to bring all of them with her. The main textbook seemed like a safe bet. The first several pages were dedicated to providing intrigue into the human condition and explaining the violent, sinister monster within.
âWhereâs the prof?â A male student in the back asked loudly to no one in particular.
Several female students made empathetic excuses for the professor. One such excuse amounted to the professor being new and not being able to find the right classroom.
Sophia looked at her watch. It was a Fossil watch that her father had bought her as a graduation gift. He had a masculine obsession with watches, and while he really wanted to buy her a Seiko, he thought the Fossil watch matched her personality better. She thought of the gift more as a loving piece of jewelry. Although, sometimes, she found slight amusement in not taking out her phone to check the time.
She smiled at the marbled face. It was five minutes past the time. She hoped the professor was OK. Although, she was secretly happy to have the class start late, as she was dreading the class altogether. As luck would have it, when she looked up from her watch towards the classroom door, it slowly opened.
A tall, lanky woman with long, nearly white blonde hair gracefully entered the classroom. Her dark eyes glanced a sharp gaze at the few students who had signed up for her class. She gave a brief, young smile before apologizing for her lateness. She confirmed her tardiness on not being able to find the classroom and introduced herself as Dr. Kisa Nikitin.
Despite her light and pleasant Slavic accent, there was something distant and pensive about her nature. This was natural for many people that Sophia had observed from the Soviet Union. However, Dr. Nikitin had a more mysterious edge, and for some reason, she was having trouble believing such a woman had gotten turned around on the college campus. It was only educating roughly four to five thousand students and therefore, was not very large.
The lecture was strangely haunting. Although Dr. Nikitin never actually made such a statement, she made the monsters of the books they were about to study seem more real than necessary. By the end of the lecture, Sophia was afraid to open any of the books, in fear that the monsters might actually jump out of them and attack her.
As the students filed out of the class, Kisa breathed a small sigh of relief. She may have overdone it. The looks on her studentsâ faces was priceless and pale, especially the Asian girl in the front seat. Didnât Asians have their own crazy mysticism they taught their young? Maybe, not in the States.
Someone has to do it, though. She re-assured herself. Although, after the destruction of her recent engagement, she had been more on edge than usual and more heavy handed than usual.
She shook the feeling of a failed serious relationship on her botched lecture. In Russia, wild animals attacking people on the street was common knowledge. Superstition was the norm. However, in the States, the children were wimpy and lacked insight. The Puritans did a horrible job pioneering the imagination. They had their strict and boring black-and-white reasoning, which fast-forward to the present day, rendered the West completely defenseless and a mockery of all things horror.
Finished class. Anything new?
She pressed the send button, and her text message shot to Teddy. She tucked the phone back into her black purse and started to leave the classroom. There was a little more mingling and snooping she wanted to do before heading back to where Teddy and she were staying for the job. However, as she was leaving, she realized there was still one student left. The Asian girl. How had she not noticed her? She had been so quiet.
âMay I help you?â Kisa asked. Her dark eyes studied the young Asian. She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen and completely out of place. She was staring deeply into space.
âHuh?â Sophia looked up. She had been staring at the front cover of her text book, completely mesmerized by it like she had been in some sort of trance. âOh,â she felt flustered, much more than when her father had startled her earlier. âI-Iâm sorry.â She quickly slid her textbook into her book bag and left the room. As she did so, she took a small glance behind her, afraid of what she might see.
Her next class was a course on Jane Austen. She was looking forward to this class, not just because she kind of fancied Lord Darcy (to her fatherâs disapproval), but the professor and her family went to the same church as her. She had been looking forward to this class all semester, and thankfully, the first lecture was more than satisfying. It washed away all anxiety she had over Religious Literature and the Occult.
WHEN she finished the class, she made sure to say hello to the professor and left to find her father. He was able to drive her to and from classes on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays, she was on her own.
Her father was still answering questions from straggling students when she found him. Trying not to be obvious, she kept patiently right outside the classroom, leaning against the wall. She felt like a little child waiting for him and thought that maybe they should have agreed on a meeting location other than his last class.
After the last of the inquiring students made their exit, Eric and Sophia walked through the campus towards the staff parking lot. Neither said much to each other. But, once they got into the car, Sophia felt herself opening up. She spoke mostly of her Jane Austen class. She for some reason wanted to push Religious Literature and the Occult as far from the conversation as possible. When asked about it, she simply said, âIt was good,â and left it at that
Eric felt blessed that he had such an open and good relationship with his daughters. Not many men could have such fluid conversations with their children. Sophia wasnât too embarrassed to treat him with respect and entrust the inner workings of her life to him. He wanted to keep it this way, which was part of the reason he encouraged her to attend Maico College of Arizona.
WHEN they arrived home, Anna was already starting dinner, as she did every evening at roughly the same time. The house smelled delicious, and Ericâs youngest daughter Emma had suspiciously scrambled to her room without saying anything to her father or sister.
Five minutes later, if on cue, it was made apparent why Emma was being so evasive. Sophia was storming out of her room. The strategically placed hairclip on top of her thought-to-be well-hidden diary had been moved out of line. Obviously, someone had found the diary, gone through it, and carelessly placed the hair clip in the wrong position back on top of the diary.
âNo, no! I just wanted to read The Poisonwood Bible! I promise!â Emma pleaded as she stifled giggles.
âOh, really? And what is The Poisonwood Bible about?â Sophia demanded, barely patient enough to entertain her sisterâs lie.
âMissionaries in Africa!â Emma exclaimed with confidence. She spit her tongue out, just as their mother removed herself dutifully from the kitchen.
âEmma! Sophia!â Her hands clapped together loudly. The sound echoed a dark shadow over the two girls. âStop bickering, both of you! Emma, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, treating your sisterâs private things like that.â She was glaring daggers at Emma. âI thought you were doing your homework! Shame on you!â
Her attention turned her dagger of eyes towards Sophia, âDonât raise your voice like that! No one is going to want to be around someone so loud! Now, go set the table. Both of you! So pitiful you do this to your family. You embarras me.â
Sophia bit her lip. She felt like crying. She was sick and tired of Emma infiltrating her room and claiming victory over her most precious thoughts. She contemplated taking the diary with her to school, but having it lost at the school seemed even more terrifying.
And then, there was her angry mother. The woman was allowed to raise her voice all she wanted, whenever she wanted. Yet, God forbid she, little obedient Sophia, defend herself. She felt like such a doormat. As she set the table, the feeling slowly alleviated.
Her father emerged from the master bedroom moments later. He seemed refreshed and less tired than when he had been driving her home.
âWhat was all that I missed?â He asked curiously. His eyes looked back-and-forth between all the ladies.
âOh, nothing, Eric. Donât worry about it. I handled it.â Her mother said. Her dark eyes smiled at both Emma and Sophia. The two daughters had little insight that this was a secret cue from her mother and father to discuss the matter later in private, away from their prying ears when a disagreement arose. Arguing in front of their daughters had been a hard boundary they martyred themselves to uphold.
âAlright then,â Eric smirked, quickly engaging with Emma, âyouâll have to tell me how your day at school was. I want to hear all about it. Iâm sure Sophia does, too.â He winked at Sophia, as he took his seat, and awaited his dutiful wife to serve him dinner.
AFTER dinner, Sophia thought of writing about her day in her diary, but she was afraid Emma would read what she thought about Dr. Garbarino. She knew she would never recover from such an incident. So, instead of writing in her diary, she brainstormed ways to keep her sister from finding her diary. Keeping an online journal never settled well with her, but it was a constantly recurring thought.
Ultimately, she concluded she would have two diaries. A fake one to keep her sister satisfied and occupied, and then her real one, which would be well hidden. But where and how would she hide it? She had several ideas, but sheâd analyze them later. It was getting late, and she had class in the morning. Quickly, she said her evening prayers but fell asleep before she could finish them.
IN the morning, when Sophia woke up, she could hear the television. Her father usually watched news as he drank his morning coffee, but there was something different about the voices coming from the living room.
Slowly, she pushed herself from her bed and checked her phone. There were several text messages she had failed to answer the day before. She smiled as she decided to look through them for several minutes before she said good morning to the family.
As Sophia opened the first several messages, they all had similar content. Sophiaâs smile quickly faded. She had been expecting messages inquiring about her first day, but toppled on top of those were worried texts highlighting what must be on the news this morning: there was another murder in Maico, and again, images of the victim were being held from the public. The difference between this murder and the other murders was this one was right next to the college.
Sophia closed her phone without sending any replies. She had to brace herself for her fatherâs lecture, which was as much of a burden as it was comforting and terrifying. If anything good came out of this, it was that any animosity she had towards Emma about the night prior had completely evaporated.
His tall Scandinavian physique commanded attention and to his male studentsâ dismay and his female studentâs intrigue. Of course, he was not too interested in any of them, as he had a beautiful full-fledged Japanese wife at home, who he liked to describe as the perfect Proverbs 31 woman. With her, they both had two intelligent, well-behaved, beautiful half-Japanese daughters, and the professor was more than keen on preserving his familyâs unity.
With his large hands spread out in front of his smiling face, his tall body shifted in a charismatic way, âThis is exciting! Iâm making history here!â His blue eyes scanned over his students. His smile turned even more overly enthusiastic and toothy, âI saw some of you yawn, but I can assure you, you will not want to miss this! Not because itâs fun or exciting⊠Well, it is for people like me, but because this bit of understanding will be on each and every one of my examinations.â
Noises were heard from the students. Most of it seemed a little disgruntled, a few snorted laughs, but most of it was the sound of notebooks shuffling open and ticks on laptops as documents were opened for note taking. Minus the groans, that was one of Ericâs favorite sounds.
âNow that I have your attention: when studying historical findings such as art and writing, it is of utmost importance to distinguish what the creator was intending to teach and preserve. We have to get into the mindset of the creator. We have to study their psyche!â His head was nodding with that smile on his face. Several of the female students seemed to be adoring his dog-like loyalty to his subject. Only a few male students were looking at him with respectful admiration.
He clicked a button on his black pointer, and the image on the projector he stood in front of changed. Two outdated paintings in the Greek eikones style appeared on the left with brief text points on the right. One of the pictures was of a balding man with long gray facial hair. The other was of a tan Jesus Christ, with a small amount of brown facial hair.
âDr. Garbarino, along with some other historians,â his eyes rolled with this statement, âin reference to the Roman Catacombs believe that Jesus and the apostles did not have facial hair.â Another mock gesture was made, and several laughs of actual interest followed suit. âWhile it is historically accurate that men during that time frame followed the fashion of keeping themselves clean shaven, Jesus and his closest followers were not, philosophically speaking, following the vanities of this world. Jews also rarely followed the fashion standards, which coincidentally set them apart from the Romans.â He was still nodding affirmatively to his statement and therefore captivating several more eager students in the front row.
âIt is important to note that Jesus was recognized in those early picturural depictions in the catacombs by what he was doing, not what he looked like. Interesting, right?â He paused for dramatic effect. âI totally agree. This is why understanding the creator of these works is of utmost importance. Or else, we could end up being like Dr. Garbarino, who erroneously believes Jesus fashioned himself like a citizen, who paid tribute to the Roman gods! He was a Jew, remember? Can you imagine having a doctoral in history and not understanding this basic concept?â Several more snickers were heard. âTrust me. Youâre going to thank me, because when youâre done with my class, youâll be able to decipher historical facts that not even many historians can understand! All simply just by learning these easy, basic concepts!â
The lecture on context continued with a more elaborate articulation of interpreting historical finds and how to unlock the preserved truths of history accurately by researching the time period, mindset, and culture of the given society surrounding the historical engravings. He name dropped Dr. Garbarino in a negative light on various occasions and made sure to explain how the man was out of his jurisdiction as the Western Civilization professor trying to impose his views on Eastern civilization.
This was usually one of Ericâs more boring lectures, to his dismay, but he made it a point to make it every semester. It was not necessarily only because he wanted to teach his student how to study history properly and correctly, but because Dr. Garbarino met and married his wife while attending college and never failed to miss a beat on why each and every one of his students should do the same.
Eric, on the other hand, while he thought the story was romantic and nice, also felt students should consider their academia first as a good foundation before allowing the rest to fall into place. College was a well-known breeding ground for highly mischievous and illegal behavior. Dorm rape was sky rocketing around the nation every year, and the amount of underage drinking along with alcohol poisoning at colleges was inevitably on the same streak. Not to mention the murders.
There had been a string of unsolved murders happening every month. There was little rhyme or reason for them, aside from the grotesque way in which the victims were murdered. They also all happened at night. Obviously, college girls were seemingly an easy prey, and Eric had never been on more high alert.
With his oldest daughter Sophia now a freshman at Maico College of Arizona, where he was comfortably employed, Eric felt it even more necessary to prove Dr. Garbarinoâs philosophy downright a poor and misguided choice of failing to understand historical events. Unfortunately, this was ultimately the only way he could muster any ammo. Telling a young adult, freshly removed from his or her parentsâ nest not to have any romantic interest would land him as the laughing stock of the college.
As his lecture was over, having finished a solid six minutes before the lecture period was designated to end, Eric decided to give the students a first-day, early dismissal treat. He began packing his briefcase, and expectantly, awaited the several students who would inevitably come make themselves known before leaving the classroom. Two of those students stood out among the handful that had approached his desk.
One was a young, scrawny, straight-laced, previously homeschooled man, who had a nice complexion despite his abundance of acne. He was definitely smart and could have managed himself in a much better college system. For whatever reason, he or his parents or both had determined this was the place for him. His circumstances reminded him similarly of his daughterâs. He theorized, the young manâs parents must have wanted him close to home.
The second student was a tan curvier girl. She had a little bit of height and an unnaturally good talent at applying her make-up. He could not have been any less interested in her internet boutique bought outfit that begged for a little too much attention from prying eyes. She was mostly interested in tutoring and wondering if he ever met with students outside of class. Students like her were usually handled best with a game of 4-D chess.
______________________________
THE time was near noon, and he had promised Sophia that he would meet her for lunch. He was eager to know how her first day was going. She had taken several courses over the last two summers, but Eric always found summer school courses less collegiate than the Fall and Spring semesters. Plus, showing off that Sophia was his daughter was something he wanted to make adamantly known around campus. She was off-limits to the men. The fact of the matter was that their brains were not fully developed yet, no matter what constitutes a person a legal adult or not.
They had agreed to meet at the Maico Mocha, a small coffee shop connected to the campus library. He had taken Sophia there before when she was a younger girl. When she became older, he felt uneasy bringing her on campus and pushing her around the young men and their impulsive boundary breaking habits. Some of them had no regard for controlling their roving eyes.
When he entered the libraryâs entrance and turned into the coffee shop, he saw that Sophia had beaten him there. She was seated peacefully at one of the tables near the middle of the cafe. A book was propped open, and she was quietly reading it, not particularly taking notes of anyone or anything around her.
Unbeknownst to most students, they probably could not have guessed how long it had taken his daughter to get dressed this morning. She wasnât dressed in anything super fancy or special, but by the amount of time it took her to get ready and how she presented herself when he told her they had to leave now or never, he could tell she chose every article of clothing with purpose. (His wife Anna had scolded Sophia for not picking an outfit the night before.)
Part of Eric was concerned that Sophia was dressed to impress male students. Another part of Eric was hoping she was dressed to impress her professors, which was the smarter and wiser thing to do. It was also what he commended during various dinner conversations about favorable students he had taught throughout his career.
âExcuse me, but is this seat taken?â Eric put his hand on the back of the seat opposite of his daughter.
Startled, his daughter looked up from her book. Her Asian features offered a stoic face, but underneath the strength to not give away her true feelings, he could see the tremor of a shy woman who was possibly more afraid to speak than to come off as rude by quickly and firmly claiming the chair. This bothered Eric, but he would work with her.
âD-dad?â A smile broke on her face. A flush of thankfulness washed over her demeanor. âI thought you were some⊠random guy,â she said distastefully. Her blue eyes flickered downward in an embarrassed manner, and then she let out a small silent laugh at the thought.
âNo, darling, youâre safe for now,â he assured her as he took his seat across from her. âBut, you never know. College boys, random guys as you call them, have a very strange ability to pop out of anywhere. Thin air even. Trust me. I used to be one. And you, my dear, have to be vigilant.â
He looked around the cafe and made a small laugh, which seemed very similar to the one Sophia had just made. âJust now, I can count five predators who have already been trying to figure out how to take my seat.â
Sophia bashfully put her book down. She smiled, again, suppressing how much she appreciated her fatherâs sentiment, as overbearing as it did seem. She knew he had a point. She had read enough stupid young adult fiction novels. âDonât worry, Dad. Iâm way more interested in my studies than boys. Do you want to get something to eat?â
They both went to the register and ordered a coffee and whatever sandwich of preference that the shop had on display. Eric was going to tease Sophia for ordering a coffee. Her mother thought coffee dehydrated the body and caused premature wrinkles alongside a higher resting heart rate. However, Eric was amused by his daughterâs decision making in the absence of her mother and was also under the scientific belief that coffee was a cancer fighting superfood and the very reason mankind hasnât fallen apart, yet.
The lunch was brief but sweet. Everything seemed fairly in-line, at least from Sophiaâs first day report. She was generally honest and accurate with how she relayed her days and activities. Sometimes, it seemed as if she was reciting herself as if being tested for some oral state examination. He couldnât help but smile at this because, well, she was his daughter, and damn, was he proud.
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AFTER lunch and saying her farewell to her father, Sophia left the shop and walked down a paved walkway towards a set of large buildings. She had the campus mostly memorized from her summer school days. It was much busier now that the main semester had started. There was more school spirit, complete with many freshmen dressed in weird first-day outfits that they were suggested to wear from their Freshman Orientation. Sophia couldnât muster up the courage to wear something that would draw so much attention to her.
Her next class was Religious Literature and the Occult. It was actually a horror literature course disguised into something more scholarly sounding. Sophia had very little interest in it, but she had to take it for her English degree. She decided she might as well âget it over and done withâ as her mother would say.
The class was located in the Humanities building, which seemed to be the largest building aside from the science building. She had already had one lecture in the Humanitarian building, which was Western Civilization II with Dr. Garbarino, to her fatherâs dismay. She had heard her father speak negatively about him on many occasions. Of course, he seemed so much less villainous as she sat, front row seat, in his morning lecture. She almost felt sorry for him because of the way her father spoke about him.
Every time she defended Dr. Garbarino in her head, though, she could hear her motherâs voice. âListen to your father. He has his reasons, even if you do not understand them.â Her voice was ridden with a shaming backdrop, and she felt immediately guilty for wanting to see Dr. Garbarino as the young, fresh-faced professor who had everyoneâs best interest at heart. He was also, dare she say, kind of good-looking, unlike all the other students around her who looked more like grade school boys if she was to be honest.
She had to go to the second floor for her class. There was only one elevator in the building. Unfortunately, there was already a herd of students piled in front of it. When she looked towards the stairs, there was a clear opening or straight shoot as her father would say. She decided to take the alternate route as opposed to waiting her turn in a mosh pit that would ultimately land her stuck in a cramped, slow-moving space.
To no surprise, the classroom was about the same size as her Western Civilization II class. The only difference was that there were significantly less students, which left many empty seats between each student. As usual, Sophia chose a front row seat. She knew she would be least distracted if the professor was right in front of her.
As no more students trickled into the classroom, Sophia took out her textbook. There were several other books she had purchased from the campus bookstore that were required reading for the course, but she wasnât sure which one came first. She couldnât have been bothered to bring all of them with her. The main textbook seemed like a safe bet. The first several pages were dedicated to providing intrigue into the human condition and explaining the violent, sinister monster within.
âWhereâs the prof?â A male student in the back asked loudly to no one in particular.
Several female students made empathetic excuses for the professor. One such excuse amounted to the professor being new and not being able to find the right classroom.
Sophia looked at her watch. It was a Fossil watch that her father had bought her as a graduation gift. He had a masculine obsession with watches, and while he really wanted to buy her a Seiko, he thought the Fossil watch matched her personality better. She thought of the gift more as a loving piece of jewelry. Although, sometimes, she found slight amusement in not taking out her phone to check the time.
She smiled at the marbled face. It was five minutes past the time. She hoped the professor was OK. Although, she was secretly happy to have the class start late, as she was dreading the class altogether. As luck would have it, when she looked up from her watch towards the classroom door, it slowly opened.
A tall, lanky woman with long, nearly white blonde hair gracefully entered the classroom. Her dark eyes glanced a sharp gaze at the few students who had signed up for her class. She gave a brief, young smile before apologizing for her lateness. She confirmed her tardiness on not being able to find the classroom and introduced herself as Dr. Kisa Nikitin.
Despite her light and pleasant Slavic accent, there was something distant and pensive about her nature. This was natural for many people that Sophia had observed from the Soviet Union. However, Dr. Nikitin had a more mysterious edge, and for some reason, she was having trouble believing such a woman had gotten turned around on the college campus. It was only educating roughly four to five thousand students and therefore, was not very large.
The lecture was strangely haunting. Although Dr. Nikitin never actually made such a statement, she made the monsters of the books they were about to study seem more real than necessary. By the end of the lecture, Sophia was afraid to open any of the books, in fear that the monsters might actually jump out of them and attack her.
As the students filed out of the class, Kisa breathed a small sigh of relief. She may have overdone it. The looks on her studentsâ faces was priceless and pale, especially the Asian girl in the front seat. Didnât Asians have their own crazy mysticism they taught their young? Maybe, not in the States.
Someone has to do it, though. She re-assured herself. Although, after the destruction of her recent engagement, she had been more on edge than usual and more heavy handed than usual.
She shook the feeling of a failed serious relationship on her botched lecture. In Russia, wild animals attacking people on the street was common knowledge. Superstition was the norm. However, in the States, the children were wimpy and lacked insight. The Puritans did a horrible job pioneering the imagination. They had their strict and boring black-and-white reasoning, which fast-forward to the present day, rendered the West completely defenseless and a mockery of all things horror.
Finished class. Anything new?
She pressed the send button, and her text message shot to Teddy. She tucked the phone back into her black purse and started to leave the classroom. There was a little more mingling and snooping she wanted to do before heading back to where Teddy and she were staying for the job. However, as she was leaving, she realized there was still one student left. The Asian girl. How had she not noticed her? She had been so quiet.
âMay I help you?â Kisa asked. Her dark eyes studied the young Asian. She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen and completely out of place. She was staring deeply into space.
âHuh?â Sophia looked up. She had been staring at the front cover of her text book, completely mesmerized by it like she had been in some sort of trance. âOh,â she felt flustered, much more than when her father had startled her earlier. âI-Iâm sorry.â She quickly slid her textbook into her book bag and left the room. As she did so, she took a small glance behind her, afraid of what she might see.
Her next class was a course on Jane Austen. She was looking forward to this class, not just because she kind of fancied Lord Darcy (to her fatherâs disapproval), but the professor and her family went to the same church as her. She had been looking forward to this class all semester, and thankfully, the first lecture was more than satisfying. It washed away all anxiety she had over Religious Literature and the Occult.
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WHEN she finished the class, she made sure to say hello to the professor and left to find her father. He was able to drive her to and from classes on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays, she was on her own.
Her father was still answering questions from straggling students when she found him. Trying not to be obvious, she kept patiently right outside the classroom, leaning against the wall. She felt like a little child waiting for him and thought that maybe they should have agreed on a meeting location other than his last class.
After the last of the inquiring students made their exit, Eric and Sophia walked through the campus towards the staff parking lot. Neither said much to each other. But, once they got into the car, Sophia felt herself opening up. She spoke mostly of her Jane Austen class. She for some reason wanted to push Religious Literature and the Occult as far from the conversation as possible. When asked about it, she simply said, âIt was good,â and left it at that
Eric felt blessed that he had such an open and good relationship with his daughters. Not many men could have such fluid conversations with their children. Sophia wasnât too embarrassed to treat him with respect and entrust the inner workings of her life to him. He wanted to keep it this way, which was part of the reason he encouraged her to attend Maico College of Arizona.
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WHEN they arrived home, Anna was already starting dinner, as she did every evening at roughly the same time. The house smelled delicious, and Ericâs youngest daughter Emma had suspiciously scrambled to her room without saying anything to her father or sister.
Five minutes later, if on cue, it was made apparent why Emma was being so evasive. Sophia was storming out of her room. The strategically placed hairclip on top of her thought-to-be well-hidden diary had been moved out of line. Obviously, someone had found the diary, gone through it, and carelessly placed the hair clip in the wrong position back on top of the diary.
âNo, no! I just wanted to read The Poisonwood Bible! I promise!â Emma pleaded as she stifled giggles.
âOh, really? And what is The Poisonwood Bible about?â Sophia demanded, barely patient enough to entertain her sisterâs lie.
âMissionaries in Africa!â Emma exclaimed with confidence. She spit her tongue out, just as their mother removed herself dutifully from the kitchen.
âEmma! Sophia!â Her hands clapped together loudly. The sound echoed a dark shadow over the two girls. âStop bickering, both of you! Emma, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, treating your sisterâs private things like that.â She was glaring daggers at Emma. âI thought you were doing your homework! Shame on you!â
Her attention turned her dagger of eyes towards Sophia, âDonât raise your voice like that! No one is going to want to be around someone so loud! Now, go set the table. Both of you! So pitiful you do this to your family. You embarras me.â
Sophia bit her lip. She felt like crying. She was sick and tired of Emma infiltrating her room and claiming victory over her most precious thoughts. She contemplated taking the diary with her to school, but having it lost at the school seemed even more terrifying.
And then, there was her angry mother. The woman was allowed to raise her voice all she wanted, whenever she wanted. Yet, God forbid she, little obedient Sophia, defend herself. She felt like such a doormat. As she set the table, the feeling slowly alleviated.
Her father emerged from the master bedroom moments later. He seemed refreshed and less tired than when he had been driving her home.
âWhat was all that I missed?â He asked curiously. His eyes looked back-and-forth between all the ladies.
âOh, nothing, Eric. Donât worry about it. I handled it.â Her mother said. Her dark eyes smiled at both Emma and Sophia. The two daughters had little insight that this was a secret cue from her mother and father to discuss the matter later in private, away from their prying ears when a disagreement arose. Arguing in front of their daughters had been a hard boundary they martyred themselves to uphold.
âAlright then,â Eric smirked, quickly engaging with Emma, âyouâll have to tell me how your day at school was. I want to hear all about it. Iâm sure Sophia does, too.â He winked at Sophia, as he took his seat, and awaited his dutiful wife to serve him dinner.
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AFTER dinner, Sophia thought of writing about her day in her diary, but she was afraid Emma would read what she thought about Dr. Garbarino. She knew she would never recover from such an incident. So, instead of writing in her diary, she brainstormed ways to keep her sister from finding her diary. Keeping an online journal never settled well with her, but it was a constantly recurring thought.
Ultimately, she concluded she would have two diaries. A fake one to keep her sister satisfied and occupied, and then her real one, which would be well hidden. But where and how would she hide it? She had several ideas, but sheâd analyze them later. It was getting late, and she had class in the morning. Quickly, she said her evening prayers but fell asleep before she could finish them.
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IN the morning, when Sophia woke up, she could hear the television. Her father usually watched news as he drank his morning coffee, but there was something different about the voices coming from the living room.
Slowly, she pushed herself from her bed and checked her phone. There were several text messages she had failed to answer the day before. She smiled as she decided to look through them for several minutes before she said good morning to the family.
As Sophia opened the first several messages, they all had similar content. Sophiaâs smile quickly faded. She had been expecting messages inquiring about her first day, but toppled on top of those were worried texts highlighting what must be on the news this morning: there was another murder in Maico, and again, images of the victim were being held from the public. The difference between this murder and the other murders was this one was right next to the college.
Sophia closed her phone without sending any replies. She had to brace herself for her fatherâs lecture, which was as much of a burden as it was comforting and terrifying. If anything good came out of this, it was that any animosity she had towards Emma about the night prior had completely evaporated.
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