Work Text:
Dear Professor Akivili,
My name is Aha, second-year student in the Theatre and Film department. I just signed up for your Astronomy elective next semester.
I know you're wondering why a theatre kid would pick astronomy. My answer is simple: it looked fun. The course catalog said "Explore the universe and its wonders" and I thought, well, that sounds like a blockbuster trailer. Could not resist.
I have a small question about the syllabus. Do you require students to buy their own telescopes, or does the university provide loaners?
Best,
Aha
P.S. Are you single?
Hello Aha,
Thank you for your email. I welcome students from other departments into this course. Astronomy and the arts overlap more than people expect, especially when you consider that humans have been staring at the sky and making up stories about it for thousands of years.
Regarding telescopes: the department has a fully equipped lab. You won't need to purchase anything beyond the main textbook. I'll send out the pre-reading list next week.
See you in class.
Best,
Akivili
Dear Professor Akivili,
I just got back from the first lecture. I have to say, you teach with more passion than any actor I've ever worked with. When you talked about the death of stars, your eyes lit up like you were describing an old friend. I was in the front row, paying very close attention.
At one point you pushed your hair out of your face and started laughing because you forgot where you were in your lecture. The whole class laughed too, but I'm pretty sure I was the loudest.
This course is going to be way more fun than I thought.
Best,
Aha
P.S. You still haven't answered my question.
Aha,
I'm not sure whether to be flattered or concerned that a theatre student is evaluating me like a performer. But thank you, I think.
The forgetting-where-I-am problem is chronic. I get too absorbed in the material and the thread just goes. Students from previous semesters have called it "endearing," though I suspect they were being generous.
I did notice you sat in the front row. Most elective students gravitate toward the back. You're an interesting exception.
Best,
Akivili
P.S. What question would that be?
Professor Akivili,
You know which question.
I sit in the front because it gives me the best view of your face. For academic purposes, of course. I'm studying how to convey emotion on stage, and your face is excellent reference material. Every time you talk about a nebula, you look away from the class like you're seeing something no one else in the room can see. I want to figure out that look.
Also, this week's assignment asks us to write about an astronomical phenomenon we find striking. I want to write about meteors. There's no profound scientific reasoning behind it. I just like the idea of something burning across the sky at full speed only to be seen for a single second.
Is that alright?
Best,
Aha
P.S. Are you single? I'm asking seriously.
Aha,
Meteors are a good topic. I like the angle. Most students go for black holes or supernovae because they sound more impressive, but meteors carry their own beauty in how brief they are.
A suggestion: look into the Perseid meteor shower. Every August, Earth passes through the debris trail of comet Swift-Tuttle, and the sky lights up with hundreds of streaks in a single night. If you write the paper well, I'll give you bonus points.
(I'm joking about the bonus points. I grade fairly. But your topic does interest me.)
About your observation of my face during lectures: I don't know how to respond to that information. I'll file it under academic enthusiasm for the time being.
Best,
Akivili
Professor Akivili,
My meteor paper is attached to this email. I wrote a bit more than required because I couldn't stop. It turns out meteors aren't stars at all. They're tiny specks of dust that hit the atmosphere and burn up. I find that staggeringly beautiful. The universe doesn't need to be something grand to produce light.
I also have an invitation for you. The Theatre and Film department is staging a short play at the end of the semester. I'm playing the lead. If you're free this Friday evening, I'd like you to come watch. I want you in the audience for once, so I know what it feels like to have you watching me.
Best,
Aha
P.S. Are you single? I'm still asking. I'll keep asking until I get an answer.
Aha,
Your paper is strong. You write like a storyteller rather than a scientist, but your facts hold up throughout. I gave you a high mark and wrote detailed comments in the attached file.
I read the paragraph about dust burning up twice. You have a rare ability to make hard knowledge feel grounded and honest.
About the performance: I'll be there. I've never watched one of my students perform outside of class before. This will be a first, and I'll admit I'm curious.
Send me the time and location.
Best,
Akivili
Professor Akivili,
I saw you in the audience tonight. Fifth row, left side, next to the aisle. You sat up straight and leaned forward every time the stage lights shifted color.
I performed for the whole auditorium, but I looked toward you more than I should have. My director would scold me if they knew, because my character was supposed to be in love with someone else on stage, yet my eyes kept drifting to the fifth row.
You left before I could get outside after the show. I wanted to know what was going through your head when you were watching me.
Best,
Aha
P.S. Are you single, my Akivili?
Aha,
I left early because I didn't know what I would say to you if we ran into each other in the hallway.
You asked what I thought while watching you on stage. I'll be honest: you were real up there. Everyone else played a role, but you lived inside yours. I could feel the difference, even knowing nothing about performance craft.
You looked toward me more than once. Stage lights make it hard to tell where an actor's gaze falls, but I know what I saw.
There's one more thing I thought, but I'm not ready to write it here.
Best,
Akivili
Professor Akivili,
Don't make me wait.
I know you're careful with words. You think for a long time before you speak, and when you do speak, you choose every word with intention. I've noticed this since the first lecture. You treat language like the stars: with respect and conviction.
But not everything needs that kind of care. Some things just need to be said.
I'll go first. I like you. I like that you forget where you are in your own lectures. I like that you write emails longer than necessary because you refuse to cut a thought short. I like that you sat in the audience watching me and leaned forward, like the stage was the night sky and I was something burning across it.
I've never met anyone like you. And I don't want to be the well-behaved student sitting in the front row admiring you from a safe distance anymore. I want more than that.
So you can answer my question now.
Best,
Your Aha
P.S. Are you single?
Aha,
I read your email twice. The first time too fast, because my heart was pounding. The second time slowly, to make sure I understood every sentence.
The thing I wasn't ready to write is this: when you stood on stage, light falling across your face, I understood why ancient people looked up and gave names to the stars. Humans have always wanted to name the things they cannot look away from.
You've asked me if I'm single in every email since the first one, and every time, I left it unanswered. I knew that answering meant facing everything that came after.
I'm single, Aha.
But I don't want to be anymore.
The semester ends in two weeks. Once your grade is in the system and you're no longer my student, would you like to get coffee?
I know a rooftop cafe that stays open late. You can see the stars clearly from up there.
Best,
Your Akivili
Akivili,
Yes, a hundred times yes.
I'll bring the department telescope. You just bring yourself.
Two weeks, and I'm counting every single day.
Best (so very much),
Aha
P.S. You don't have to be single anymore.