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“Give me a little more time. I’m just trying to find my bearings without Mom, ya know?”
“I know. I just don’t want you to lose focus. You’re so close.”
“I won’t. Promise.”
Marsha pushes up from her chair. “Good. Now, get out of here so I can grade some papers.” She rolls her eyes. “What I wouldn’t give to have all my students be as dedicated as you.”
“Not everyone can be perfect,” I joke as I make my way to the door. “See ya in class next week.”
I make my way through the halls of the building that’s like a second home to me. Once outside, I cross the courtyard and head to the library. Working on my doctorate takes a lot of time, but not quite as much as my undergrad and master’s. And school definitely doesn’t pay the bills.
Hence, the library. I’ve worked there my entire college career, and I’ll miss it when I’m finally done. But it only pays enough to cover my gas and phone bill, so I also work at a club downtown on nights and weekends. Between my paychecks and tips, the rest of my bills are paid, and then some.
* * *
Two days later…
“These childish fantasies have to stop.”
I stir the leftover spaghetti and roll my eyes. My dad called ten minutes ago, as he always does on Sunday, and our conversation is the same as it always is. He questions my sanity for choosing mythology, specifically Valhalla, as my doctoral path of study, and I remind him that I’m an adult and can make my own decisions.
“Dad, they aren’t fantasies,” I counter. “Besides, it’smylife. Why can’t you just be proud of me?”
“Honey, I am proud of you,” he insists. “But I worry.”
“About what?”
Dad heaves a sigh, and I imagine him sitting in his recliner with the football game muted on the television.
“Makayla, how are you going to make a living with this degree? You’re spending thousands of dollars for an education that will only take you so far.”
“And it’s my money to spend.”
I don’t get it. My dad wants me to be happy, and this makes me happy. It’s not like my passion for mythology is anything new.
“You’re right, it is,” he concedes. “And you still didn’t answer my question.”
Twirling noodles around my fork, I settle on my couch and pull my feet under me. “I can teach, pass on my knowledge to others who love mythology as much as I do.”
He chuckles, the first real chuckle I’ve heard from him since Mom died. “I don’t think there’s anyone as passionate about Valhalla as you.”Did he and Marsha plan these conversations or what? “Well, maybe Odin, but that’s it.”
“So, you do listen!”
“Of course, I listen. You’re my baby girl. Just because I don’t always agree with your decisions doesn’t mean I don’t care about them.”
I’ve been his ‘baby girl’ since I was, well, a baby. At twenty-seven, I’m definitely not a baby, but it still makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when he calls me that.
My phone beeps, and I pull it away from my ear to look at the screen. Jeff’s name sends my nerves buzzing, and not in a good way.
“Hey, Dad, I gotta take another call,” I tell him. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I press the button to switch to the other line. “Jeff, what’s up?”
“Mak, I thought we agreed you weren’t going to use Valhalla as your thesis topic,” he complains.
“First of all, it’s Makayla,” I say, not understanding why he insists on calling me that ridiculous nickname. “And second, I never agreed to anything.”
