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NINTY: Please Let Me Love You
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2025-12-11 16:00:16It is eerily fitting, the way the rain comes down as I speed over to Professor Harlan’s, barely able to remember the last time I was there. But I don’t pay it any mind, even as it batters against my windshield, which is likely in part why I almost crash my car no less than three times. I am hellbent on reaching my destination; nothing else matters.
I rap furiously on the door after I spring the steps two at a time up to his brownstone, and then again when he doesn’t answer the first time. Finally, after my third sequence of unforgivable and urgent knocking, Professor Harlan rips the door open.He looks irritated to see that anyone is bothering him unannounced. But when he realizes it is me, he just looks shocked.Rainwater drips from my eyelashes and fogs my vision.He lifts his brows, evidently waiting for me to speak first, because clearly he is at a loss as to why I am there.There is a mountain of words I want to say to him, nearly a year’s worth of questions
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SUBMISSION 101 NINETY-NINE: Not Today
“Not today,” Professor Harlan whispers through gritted teeth. “But someday.”Luke gives a curt nod and a slight smile, only tugging his gaze away from his nephew when the floorboards creak from the entrance to the study.It is Leia, looking stoic but patient, eyeing the two of them cautiously.Luke pats Professor Harlan’s cheek. Harlan’s eyes flicker to the floor, but he allows it. Turning on his heel, Luke exits the study, passing Leia as he goes, who slowly, carefully makes her way toward her son.“I’ve been waiting years for you two to hash it out,” she says. “And all in all, it didn’t seem to take very long.”“I guess it’s easier to make amends when someone is dying.”“A sad thought,” she says, landing in front of Professor Harlan, letting her gaze land in his. “But it’s never necessary to wait until it’s too late.”Professor Harlan sighs; part of him wants to apologize. A part of him does not know how. A part of him feels like he has his entire lifet
SUBMISSION 101 NINETY-EIGHT: Don't Let It Take A Lifetime
We descend the stairs shoulder to shoulder. I steal a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He carries himself with steely resoluteness. Rigid. Severe.Afraid.I give his hand a little squeeze before he continues down the corridor alone. I dip into the kitchen, where Leia is already preemptively pouring us both a glass of wine.But Professor Harlan enters the study.Alone.His uncle stands in the center of the room, facing the mantle, gazing up at the portrait of his parents. Hands clasped behind his back. Professor Harlan has to bite back a scoff. He looks so scholarly like this. But Professor Harlan knows his uncle for what he is. His fists clench and unclench at his sides. He has half a mind to run. But he is not a child anymore. He is not a coward. He is not weak.Luke senses his nephew’s presence without turning around. And before Professor Harlan sets eyes on his uncle’s face for the first time in over a decade, he hears the man’s voice: “Ben.”
SUBMISSION 101 NINETY-SEVEN: Luke's Here
Mara stands planted in the doorway of the study, a man just off her shoulder. Leia rises on trembling legs, reaching out her arms as she steps slowly toward the pair.“Luke,” she breathes. Mara steps aside so Leia can wrap her arms around her brother. He closes his eyes as he holds her against him, face looking old and weary.I can tell he was handsome in his prime; not that he is not good-looking now. But the circles under his eyes are dark and prominent, his features appearing more exhausted than they might on any other day. I look down at my feet, suddenly feeling as though I am intruding on Leia and her brother. But then I remember: Professor Harlan is still upstairs.And he has no idea his uncle is here.My stomach flips deep within my gut and I bring my gaze up again. I blanch to find Luke’s eyes now on me, narrowing slightly as if trying to piece together why a young woman, roughly the age of his nephew, stands in his sister’s home on such a serious and bleak
SUBMISSION 101 NINETY-SIX: By All Means
After the plane lands, we rent a car before hitting the road. I insist on driving, which Professor Harlan naturally fights me on.“You only got an hour’s sleep on the plane,” I argue, snatching the keys out of his grip and opening the driver’s-side door. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”“You’re not even old enough to drive a rental car,” he hisses.“Professor Harlan, can you please just let me help you for once?”With that he finally stops fighting, hesitating only a moment before climbing into the seat beside me and resting his head against the headrest, giving me directions as we go.Before too long we arrive, pulling into the gated courtyard of a small estate. I gaze with my mouth agape as I step out of the car. The house looks brilliant beneath the gleaming sunrise, dew glistening off the grass and flowers of the garden. Cicadas chirp lowly in the distance. If we were here under better circumstances, it would be an absolutely stunning morning. I ache for hi
SUBMISSION 101 NINETY-FIVE: Finally Sleeping
“Your grandmother?” I sputter for the umpteenth time as I chase after Professor Harlan, who is busy stuffing last-minute items into his overnight bag while racing toward the car.“Yes.” He answers without looking back, tucking in pieces of clothing that stick out of the lip of his bag.“Are you sure we have to go to the airport?” I ask, huffing as I pump my legs to keep up with him. “I mean… I thought you guys would have a family jet or something.”“We do, but do you see a runway anywhere?” he quips Professor Harlan. “Get in.”Without another word of argument, I climb into the car beside him. I do not have a change of clothes with me, or any other essentials for that matter. But after everything that has happened tonight, there is no force in heaven or on earth that can keep me from staying by his side. It all makes me wonder just how much about his family I still do not know.There is no time to plan or look for a flight. Our best bet is to show up at the airpor
SUBMISSION 101 NINETY-FOUR: He Loves Me
The falling droplets of water are music against my bare skin. I have lost track of how long I have been sitting on the shower floor; the water has long gone cold, but I feel protected from any and all sensations that life can throw at me.My legs are slung over Professor Harlan’s lap, my face nuzzled into the crook of his neck. For the longest time, he has been gently stroking my bicep, and once in a while his hands carefully rub my shoulders to warm my skin.The faucet is not far, but neither of us bothers getting up to reach it. If the possibility presents itself, I would choose to sit here for the rest of my life rather than move: bare-skinned and protected in Professor Harlan’s arms.Bare-skinned and protected and loved.He loves me.Professor Harlan loves me.Each time I replay the words in my head, I feel my heart swell in my chest, and more than once I fear it might burst. He has admitted it in whatever words he can manage, but it is more than I could
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