Issuu

A Long Night Gabby sat towards the back of the massive lecture hall. She was 20, an Engineering major, and didn’t know a bit of French. Why was she here, waiting for a visiting French professor to read some of his own poetry? She saw a poster advertising the event on her way to her 8pm discussion, and decided to go to it instead. She started to feel some pricks of regret though, as she watched others enter and pause next to the door, before their eyes lit up with the reassurance of seeing someone they knew. Then they would amble to the front of the hall and reunite with their colleagues or classmates or friends and chat, in French, about what happened in their lives since they last interacted just a few short hours ago. Gabby sat alone, in a wave of empty seats. That was expected, though, when you decide to go to a lecture for a subject you’ve never taken and for a language you don’t even know. She felt a strange comfort in her anonymity. Recently, everyone she knew, and even some she didn’t, had taken to looking at her with wide pitying eyes. Here, she didn’t know a single soul, and none of them paid attention to the ghostly figure shrouded in shadows, all alone. The lecture began with an introduction from another professor. In English, he raved about the visiting poet, detailing how he was introduced to his work and how difficult it was to convince him to come and teach. Apparently, the professor poet was from Paris. Gabby couldn’t wrap her head around why he would ever choose to leave Paris to come to their small northeastern college town, even if it was just for a semester. Gabby would give anything to live in Paris. When they were young, she and her sister, Ava, would pretend they were French, printing out pictures of the Eiffel Tower and the French flag and putting them up all over their playroom. While other kids played House, they created a business plan for a French bakery. The only pastry they knew for sure they would include was croissants, so that made up the whole menu. They eventually grew out of their obsession, before they could even make a run at learning the language, but they always promised each other that they would at least visit one day. Now, it was too late for even that. The poet took the stage. “Thank you for having me, and for the kindness you have all shown me. I have so enjoyed teaching such talented and passionate students.” He spoke quietly, in halting English and a thick accent. “Now, I’ll begin.” With that, he switched to French and the entire atmosphere changed in a single instant. His voice became lifted and lyrical. Gabby had no idea what any of the words he was saying meant, but when she closed her eyes, it was like she could see the images she just knew he was describing, feel the wrenching emotion she could hear in how his voice caught in the back of his throat. Some parts of the human 45 / VLR