Abnormal Psychology. It was among the final requirements to successfully complete the Master's Degree I had been working on for nearly two-and-half years.
Slow and steady wins the race. It was a common mantra that I continually used to motivate and justify the turtle-like pace of my educational progress. Working full time and refusing to take online courses were the two main factors contributing to the prolonged nature of my tenure at Woodbridge University. I had nothing against online learning. It just simply wasn't for me. Call me a geek but I genuinely enjoyed the classic classroom setting.
It was mid January. The younger generation of college students were loathing their frigid trek to whatever night classes they had been forced into signing up for the semester before. It was an assumption; though I had been there, done that. I knew what they were feeling on that first night of spring semester classes. As an adult, my feelings had transformed. I was eager.
The seventy-thirty class began right on time and I could still taste the dinner on my breath that I had hurried to inhale in the car on my ride in. The thought exited my mind as quickly as it had entered when the professor walked in, promptly shutting the oversized mahogany door behind him and locking it.
The click echoed off the walls of the stadium-style auditorium and everyone appeared to freeze where they sat. No professor in all of my graduate or undergraduate studies had ever locked the door.
What if there's a fire? That was my first, anxious thought. Again, it swiftly floated away when the finely-dressed stranger before us began to speak. His voice was deep; a bit scratchy. It felt like his vocal chords were made to narrate one of those Planet Earth shows.
"I'm sure you all know by now my name is Dr. Archibald. If you didn't know at least that much by now.." He paused as he sat down on the edge of an oversized, wooden desk centered perfectly at the head of the room and removed a pair of glasses. ".. I'd have to wonder how the fuck you made it this far in your education."
My eyebrows lifted at his casual use of profanity in the first introductory sentence. I looked to my left and right, as most of the others in the class did, and amongst the silence there were a few stray chuckles that tested out the room's acoustics.
When I looked back, Dr. Archibald was smirking. "Well that woke you up, didn't it?" He rose to his feet again and put his hands out to the sides. "Look.. I know you're all working. Maybe some of you have families. Maybe not. It's seven-thirty at night and you'd probably rather be getting ready to watch The Bachelor with a glass of wine."
There was more collective laughter now and his eyes scanned the room, both amused and almost as if they were searching to see who was smiling and who was still cautious. There was a genuine, curious nature to the way his eyes danced over the crowd.
"This class will be worth your while," he went on. "You're here for a reason and I intend to pump those big brains of yours with all the information I can." Dr. Archibald smiled wider now, highlighting a pair of boyish dimples beneath a trim, salt and pepper beard, "Welcome to Abnormal Psychology."
He sure knew how to captivate an audience. The delivery of the first bout of information had me laughing, pondering answers to questions I never would have thought of and desperately scribbling notes down in my yellow, ninety-eight cent notebook.
I was so interested and so intrigued that I hadn't realized that class was on the verge of concluding until Dr. Archibald uttered his words of departure. "I'll see you next class."
And just like that, the first Abnormal Psychology class had ended. I sat there for several seconds before rising to my feet, slinging my backpack over one shoulder and then gave a generous stretch toward the ceiling before beginning my slow climb down the elongated steps.
Half of the class had piled out by the time I reached the ground level. I passed by Dr. Archibald and, for some reason, didn't have the confidence to look in his direction.
"So, what'd you think? Hooked yet?" His voice cut through the air and more or less grabbed me and spun me around in his direction. I didn't even know if he was speaking to me until our eyes locked.
"Me?" I glanced over my shoulder - another habit that highlighted my inner insecurities. When I saw his smirk, an expression that I knew held all kinds of unspoken wit behind it, I decided to respond. "Yeah."
Say something else. I couldn't think. I never did well with being put on the spot. Still, I was eager to maintain a conversation.
"I'm really interested in Abnormal Psych. I've been looking forward to this class since I started my Master's."
"The delivery.." he went on, "What did you think? Too much?"
"Just right," I responded too coolly. I almost impressed myself. A red blush filtered into my cheeks and the nervous laugh I let out killed any type of confidence I appeared to have going for me.
Dr. Archibald smiled and right then I decided that I thought he was handsome. Crimson filled my cheeks a little deeper and I glanced up toward the few stragglers who were still getting their things together halfway up into the seating area. It was my only means of a quick distraction before I turned back to face my new, slightly unorthodox professor.
He hadn't looked away, and I swallowed hard. "Thanks.." It was all I could manage and I gave a fleeting wave before heading out into the hallway.
It was as if I was reentering the world after being put in a trance for two hours.
On the drive home I wondered if anyone else had felt the same effects that I had. Were the other students in my class still thinking about the class like I was? Did they find Dr. Archibald to be the perfect combination of intelligent and.. cool? Was cool even the right word?
Smooth, I corrected the description in my mind and then immediately shook my head. What was I even thinking about? I had known the man for two hours.. two.. and here I was passing judgment as if he we had been in each other's company for an appropriate amount of time to match my opinion.
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In my final conscious, cognitive thoughts of the night I, again, reflected back on the fascinating opener of Abnormal Psychology and the riveting professor that taught it. No class I had ever taken was ever interesting enough to consume my final thoughts of the day.
Even less, they never made it into my nightly dreamscapes or nightmares. That night, the images that danced their way into the multiple cortexes of my brain where dreams were concocted were a troubling combination of both.
I heard Dr. Archibald's indistinguishable voice narrating the ordeal as I was lost in a forest. A sea of fog swallowed me whole though somehow I knew I was visible to something that was out there. It was haunting. I could not pinpoint what my professor’s role actually entailed. Was he trying to guide me? Hurt me? Lead me away from whatever dangers lurked?
It felt all-too-real when his hands clamped down on my shoulders, finally revealing his presence. I couldn't see his face, though I knew the pair of hands belonged to Dr. Archibald.
My overemphasized gasp bridged the realms of dream and reality, and I sat up in bed, a cold sweat coating my body as my mind struggled to recognize my immediate surroundings.
“What the fuck..” I whispered to myself, eyeing the red numbers on the digital clock on my nightstand.
3:37. I sighed and laid back down eying the ceiling fan that swirled in circles around me. Yes, I was one of those people who still needed a fan to sleep in the middle of winter.
I closed my eyes again and it was like coming down off a high. Adrenaline made the thud of my pulse pound in my ears, as if actual quarter-sized drums had been implanted there. In that early morning hour my heart palpitated. Half of it was what I could only interpret as misplaced desire. The other half was outright fear. I never fell back asleep.
In jest, I quietly blamed Dr. Archibald for wanting to fall asleep in the second course I was taking at the University the following evening. Dr. Stevenson did not have the immediate, gripping hold on me the way Dr. Archibald did. Not only was I exhausted by the time the five o'clock class rolled around, but I was constantly comparing this stodgy, mundane individual to all of the lively traits his coworker possessed. It was unfair really.
I had made it, however. I managed to get through to seven o'clock without rudely letting my head fall flat on the desk in the stuffy, thermogenic confinement in the University's basement.
“Get me out of here,” I whispered to myself as I crossed into the hallway. My eyes sought out the stairwell at the far end of the corridor, though when the elevator doors swung open as I passed by, I couldn't resist the free ride.
A small group of students piled out, each on their own individual device and not seeming to care if they were in each other’s company or not. I felt for my own phone in my jacket as I entered and turned to hit the “1” button that glowed a pale yellow.
“Hold on..” A hand snuck its way in through the large, steel doors that threatened to close, and I stepped farther to the side to allow the stranger to enter. Only it wasn't a stranger - not really.
“Oh..” The one syllable left my mouth when I recognized it was Dr. Archibald who was now standing beside me as the doors closed. The word was entirely misplaced and I knew I wouldn't have said that if any other human being had accompanied me on the elevator right then. Except maybe John Stamos.
“Alexandria right?” His voice was made for phone sex.
The fact that I had that thought even remotely in the most hidden depths of my brain made me blush. I even contemplated what was wrong with me.
“Right.” I gave a small, closed-mouth smile and attempted to mind my own business.
“Who's class did you just come from?”
“Umm..” I drew a blank. Again, his voice took me completely off-guard. “Uhhh..” When my eyes lifted to hit his, I could tell there was amusement that lingered behind the surface. “Dr. Stevenson.”
“Mmm..” It was an obvious mutter of disapproval, though he didn't dare elaborate as he subtly rolled his eyes along with the brief, fleeting response.
“My thoughts exactly.” I gave a laugh and looked up at him again, shoving my hands into the pockets of my black, L.L. Bean winter coat. I hoped by agreeing to his subtle denunciation I didn't come across as the prissy, know-it-all type that undermined authority figures.
When the little bell chimed, indicating we had reached the first level, I wanted to make some excuse to stay there. There was nothing logical. Once the doors opened I would have to get out. Still, I wanted so badly to carry on a conversation with Dr. Archibald. At the same time there wasn't one worthwhile conversation starter I could think of.
I opened my mouth to speak again but then quickly went with the generic, “I'll see you tomorrow in class.”
Dr. Archibald gave a nod and I crept out of the elevator with a deliberate reluctance that I couldn't prevent. A look over my shoulder showed the elevator doors closing again and Dr. Archibald’s figure was slowly stripped from my view like an actor on a stage at the final curtain.
I could breathe again. For a second. It suddenly dawned on me that I had never revealed to him my name.
Alexandria right? I relived the simple, half-a-second question over and over again in my mind until it transformed from a quintessential expression to a resounding shout.
He has a class list, I reminded myself. With at least forty-something students, I added.
There was no way he could have known who I was without a little investigation. The thought flattered me. Surely, others might've been a bit uneasy over the revelation but not me. Not right then.
There was an unwilling pull at the corner of my mouth that I tried to fight off, though soon a wider grin made home on my face. I still stood there staring at the elevator for a moment and realized the down arrow was glowing.
Down. I stood there for a moment. Dr. Archibald had gone back down where he had just come from. Had he simply taken the elevator ride to…
I couldn't even finish the thought with any sort of realistic element to it.
Cocky, aren't we? I knew there wasn't a chance he had taken the elevator up one level and back down simply because I was on it. He most likely forgot something and went back down.
Big metal butterflies had suddenly made home in my stomach. I was so modest that I yielded any possibility that this could be true. Through my own eyes I was so incredibly customary that someone couldn't possibly want to go out their way to find out more about me.
I wouldn't mind him stalking me. The fact that this was my first naturally-occurring thought had to say something. The palpitations knocked at my chest cavity again and I swallowed hard as the down arrow suddenly stopped glowing.
Of course this was the thing, in all of my exhausted glory, that kept me awake again that night.