Bring Down the Stars

Professor O laughed. “Boot Camp must be exactly as I imagine it.”

“The movies make it look easy.”

“But you persevered. Please. Have a seat.”

“Thank you, sir.” I sat stiffly, my cap in my hands.

“When do you ship out?”

“Next week. To Fort Benning. Military Occupational Specialty training.”

“What division?”

“11B, Infantrymen. My drill sergeant said they’re the backbone of the Army.”

The professor nodded. “Infantry bears the heaviest burdens of war.”

I smiled faintly, imagining myself on a dust-choked road in unbearable heat, fighting a regime that gassed its own people. But I couldn’t see beyond the flight with our unit that would take us to Fort Benning, never mind Qatar.

Professor Ondiwuje folded his hands on his desk. His dreadlocks brushed the collar of his navy blue suit. Like Autumn, he was always dressed impeccably. His brown eyes met mine warmly, eyebrows raised.

“The last I heard from you was news of your enlistment and putting your education on hold,” he said.

“Had to. Got called up a little faster than anticipated.”

“I’d say so.” The professor wore a thin-lipped smile. “You never turned in your last assignment, the Object of Devotion poem. I was looking forward to reading it.”

“My circumstances changed, sir.”

“Quite drastically,” he said. “And I’m not sir. I’m not your commanding officer, only a poet. Like you.”

“I’m not a poet,” I said. “Not anymore.”

“That’s the

worst tragedy I’ve heard all year. Did you never even start my assignment?”

“I started it and can’t stop. I’ve been writing it since you assigned it. Stanza after stanza, crossing them out, erasing them, starting over, again and again and again. I could write it forever.”

“Stop writing it,” Professor O said, “and give it to her.”

I glanced up sharply. “Her?”

“Or him. The person you’re in love with.” He pursed his lips and cocked his head. “You think a man can look as miserable as you right now for any other reason besides love?”

“I can’t give it to her.”

“Why not?”

“She doesn’t belong to me.”

“Ah.” Professor O leaned back, his hands resting on his chest now, fingers interlaced. “Unrequited love. The most painful kind.”

Once upon a time, I’d tell him it wasn’t any such thing. But today, now, on the brink of shipping off to a future I couldn’t see, I was honest. With my idol poet. With myself. Out loud.

“Yeah, I love her,” I said. “I don’t know how it happened, or why, but I do. Something in me connects to something in her. I’ve felt it since the day we met.”

Professor Ondiwuje smiled like a satisfied cat. “That’s beautiful.”