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Makayla
PRESENT DAY…
“Are you sure about this?”
I feel like I’m sitting in front of a firing squad and not Marsha, my academic advisor. From the moment I met her my freshman year of undergrad, she’s been more like a friend than mentor. I’ve come to respect and value her opinion. She and I have had many conversations about my education over the years, and this is the first time my nerves are getting the better of me.
“There’s no other option,” I tell her.
“Makayla, there are always other options.” Marsha smiles warmly. She reminds me a little of my mother, and the thought sends a sharp pang through my chest. “And I can tell by the look on your face that you couldn’t care less what those options are.”
The woman knows me well.
“I can’t do anything else, Marsha. I just…” I shrug. “Can’t.”
She leans over her desk and rests her elbows on the oak top. “I figured. You know, I’ve never seen someone as passionate about Valhalla as you are.”
And you probably never will.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve sought out the stories about the men and women who are my ancestors. My mom used to tell me about them at bedtime. She always joked that the only way she was able to get me to sleep as a baby was to start talking about lores and legends.
Fuck, I miss my mom.
“I get it from—”
“Your mom, I know.”
I huff out a laugh. “Look, I know there are other mythologies I could focus on, but I don’t want to. Valhalla is where my heart is, where it’ll always be.”
Marsha eyes me thoughtfully, and I know what’s coming.
“Are you still having those dreams?”
An image flashes in my mind of a man and woman huddled in a shack. They’re both clearly frightened, but just like when I see them in my sleep, all I feel is a sense of calm. I chalk it up to the stories I heard as a child. The emotions they conjure are comfort and contentment, not fear, and that’s what sticks with me as an adult.
“It’s been a while.”
“What’s a while?”
I tilt my head. “Are you asking as my friend or as my advisor?”
“Does it matter?”
“You tell me.”
Marsha shakes her head and grins. “Stubborn as always. No, Makayla, it doesn’t matter. And I’m asking as your friend.”
I stare at her a moment before responding. “It’s been a few months.”
“That explains it then.”
“Explains what?”
“The light in your eyes has dimmed since classes started back up. Usually, you’re chomping at the bit to get back into the library or classroom, but this year… It’s been different.”
Because this is the first academic year since my mother died.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but I don’t. I know I’ve been cranky. My biggest supporter, my best friend, is gone.
