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downwiththeficness · 4 years

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A Need So Great-Chapter 9

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~3,300

Warnings: None

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Eva sat in the conference room, trying hard not to fidget. Javier and Steve were to her left, and there was a projector sitting behind the table. None of them knew why they were sitting there. None of them knew when the meeting would start. All that they were told was that they were supposed to be sitting in that room by nine am that day. No exceptions.

The air kicked on, filling the room with a dull drone. Eva grabbed her pen and held it in her palm, using her thumb to slide the cap up and down along the length of it. She wanted to get up and take a lap around the room to excise some of the nervous energy she felt.

Javier lit a cigarette, sinking down lower into his chair, looking annoyed, “How long’ve we been sitting here?”

Steve looked at his watch, “About twenty minutes.”

“Fuck me,” Javier groaned, rubbing his eye, “I got about a thousand pages of paperwork that need to get done and we’re sitting here with our thumbs up our asses.”

She had to agree. She’d gotten a little behind with reading through case files. Although she was used to redacted information, she wasn’t used to whole sections of them being completely missing. As she moved through the most recent information, that was occurring more and more often. She thought she’d gotten the mole over two months ago, but now… there had to be more than one.

The door opened and Vanessa walked in. Eva inhaled deeply, her grip on the pen tightening until she heard the plastic crack. Jaw clenched, she sat up and prepared herself for the inevitable. Unable to help it, she glanced at the two agents she’d worked with so closely, already mourning the friendship they’d started to develop. She wondered if Connie would be calling to cancel their work out tonight.

Blinking, she turned her attention to the woman who signed her paychecks.

“Hello, thank you for waiting. I’m Vanessa Arnold.”

A tall, stately woman, dressed in a crisp suit, Vanessa looked at them with a critical gaze. She addressed each of them in turn, welcoming them to the meeting. Eva’s eyes narrowed as Vanessa sorted the stack of files in front of her. She knew those files—well worn over the years, and slowly growing.

“I am here,” she announced, her expression business placid, “Because I’ve heard some disturbing information and I would like to give you the opportunity to address it.”

Next to her, Javier stubbed out his cigarette, “What kind of information?”

Vanessa smiled, it was not a nice smile, “It has been reported to the States that you are engaging in some inappropriate behavior.”

Javier and Steve looked at each other, a whole conversation passing between them that Eva wasn’t sure she could decipher. Steve, who was sitting next to her, put his elbows on the table, resting his head on his hands. Javier stayed where he was, but she could feel the heat of the glare he leveled at Vanessa.

“Now, we deal with some very serious things, and sometimes that wears us down.” Standing, Vanessa circled the conference table, hand skimming over the chairs. “Sometimes, that leads us to forget our boundaries and the expectations of the DEA for its agents.”

Eva’s gaze followed Vanessa as she sauntered towards them, pace excruciatingly slow. She knew where this was going, had attended this meeting at least once in every location she’d been sent to, usually at about the six month mark. And yet, it still hurt. Vanessa knew how to make it hurt.

Javier cleared his throat, “With all due respect, Ms. Arnold, can you get to the point?”

There was that ugly smile again, “Absolutely. I’ve received reports that you and Agent Murphy are participating in social events with Mrs. Moore. Going out to bars, eating lunch together—Agent Murphy, your wife has been attending classes at the gym with Mrs. Moore, has she not?”

Steve’s mouth thinned, “She has. There aren’t many Americans in this country, least of all anyone who might be able to commiserate about life in close quarters with the DEA.”

Vanessa cast him a condescending look, “Still, it doesn’t exactly put you in a positive light, does it?”

Eva could feel the wheels of Steve’s mind turning as he processed what she’d said. He flicked his fingers out in a sharp motion before curling them into his palms, “I don’t understand. Eva is a contract consultant, paid by the DEA to work with us. How is associating with her outside of work a negative?”

Here we go.

Vanessa stepped back and flicked off the lights, then moved to the projector and turned it on, “Mrs. Moore is generally reticent to talk about it, but I feel its important for you to know who you are working with.”

The projector clicked and Eva’s mug shot flashed onto the wall opposite the group. She closed her eyes, working to control her breathing. She’d been released into police custody right out of the hospital. Her arm was still in a cast, her face heavily swollen and bruised. The picture was not flattering.

“Mrs. Moore was charged and convicted of the murder of her husband a few years prior to coming to work for us.”

Another click. Her husband’s picture, his professional photo, came up. Josh was impeccably groomed, smile wide and white, eyes clear and sparkling. She bit the inside of her cheek, stunned that she could still feel such hatred towards a person no longer living.

“This is Joshua Moore. A prominent doctor and businessman out of Louisiana. His practice was located just outside of New Orleans. He was most well known for donating large amounts to charities across the state.”

For the tax write off. And, to get the votes of the city councils.

Click. Their wedding picture. Eva felt bile rise in her throat. Fourteen years old, looking like a baby next to a twenty five year old who’d just started working for the local hospital. Her mother had picked out her dress—a frilly, lace encrusted thing that was a touch too long. She remembered how much her feet hurt from walking in the heels she needed to wear to keep the thing from dragging too much down the aisle. Standing at the altar had been excruciating enough that she’d stumbled over her vows.

“By all accounts, Mrs. Moore and her husband had a passionate relationship.”

Passionate is one way to put it.

In the beginning, she’d fought him when she thought he was being unfair. He’d scream, punch doors, throw things, eventually things devolved into physical beatings. It only took about a year for her to stop fighting and just do what he wanted. It was easier that way. Soon enough, he figured out how good she was at hiding things—money, product, herself—and he let her in on the family business.

Click. Their blood covered carpet with his outline marked in tape.

“One night, things got out of hand. Mr. Moore unfortunately lost his life at the hands of his wife.”

God, could she be a little less dramatic? Her voice had lowered down to a soft, sweet sound that grated on every nerve Eva had. She felt her mouth lift in a sneer before she could check the motion. Sniffing, she relaxed the muscles of her face, looking forward at the picture dispassionately.

Click. The trail of blood leading from the living room out the back door.

“When police arrived on the scene, Mr. Moore was found in the back yard, on fire. Autopsy reports state that he was set aflame post mortem. His cause of death was confirmed as blunt force trauma to the skull.”

Click. Her husband’s dead body, skin black and burned down to bone, laying atop a cart. Click. A close up of his face, half the skull missing. In bottom right corner, there was a little ‘R’ marked in what looked to be black permanent marker. This was the only new aspect of the photos. Every location. Every six months. Every photo. She’d seen them over and over and had them memorized. It didn’t seem possible that this little song and dance could still make her angry, but it did. She was tired of paying for a justifiable action she’d taken to save her own life.

Vanessa left the last photo up, moving to stand before them, one hand slipping into the pocket of her slacks. Eva kept her gaze steady, ready to take what would come next, the words that she’d heard for many years.

“Gentleman, you’re sitting next to a cold blooded murder, a person who took a life that was privileged and beat it to death with a fire extinguisher. Think about what kind of person could do that to someone they loved. This about who she would have to be to drag a dead body out of her house and set it on fire. Think about how associating with that kind of person reflects on you and your careers.”

The silence that followed was familiar and tense. Both men looking at Vanessa—Javier gently tapping his forefinger on the table, Steve with his head on his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed, but she kept smiling, “I’m going to let you keep thinking on that. Thank you for coming in. Have a nice day.”

And then she as striding out, her heels clicking on the tile. Eva watched her go, the door closing gently behind her. Eva just caught the face of that department head she’d nearly forgotten about as he approached Vanessa in the hall. She let the sneer form on her mouth, knowing that the rumor mill would start almost immediately.

The air in the room felt oppressive, the darkness only adding more pressure. Eva pushed a breath through her nose, scratching at the skin above her eyebrow as she tried to think of something to say.

Javier spoke for her, “What a load of bullshit.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. It was, indeed, a load of bullshit. She’d never had someone put it so succinctly so quickly following the presentation.

Steve leaned back in his seat, smashing the power button on the projector. It turned off with the groaning hiss of an air fan, leaving the room completely dark. Eva took the opportunity to swallow back the old feelings that had been drudged up in the last ten minutes. Ten minutes. That’s all it took for her to feel like shit again. She fucking hated Vanessa.

Javier stood up and flicked on the lights, returning to his seat and sitting heavily. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, offering the pack to Steve, who took it. Eva folded her hands over her chest and waited for someone to speak.

Steve tapped off ash into a faceted glass tray, “So that’s why you told us about it early on.”

“That’s why I told you about it early on,” Eva confirmed with a nod.

Javier blew out a lungful of smoke, “She do this often?”

“Yeah.”

“How often?”

“Every time, with every team.”

He nodded, leaning his forearms on the table, “You notice she left your files.”

“Yep,” Eva bit out.

It was a perfect strategy. If she hadn’t been up front about her husband, it would be impossible for anyone to ignore the fact that the whole story, in black and white, was sitting right there.

Steve reached out and placed his hand next to her on the tabletop, “You want us to read through it.”

She shrugged, “You can, if you want. Its a nicely worded story. Not too flattering to me, of course.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, another private conversation passing between them. She kept her expression neutral, not wanting to sway them one way or another.

Steve threw the butt of his cigarette into the tray, “Connie and I are having a pool party next weekend. You want to come? Carrillo, too.”

Eva felt her jaw drop, didn’t bother to conceal her shock, “You want me to come to a party.”

“Yeah,” he said, his mouth curling into a smile, “Maybe you can convince Javi, here, to put on a swim suit.”

“I wear swim trunks,” Javier cut in with mock anger.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Only because Connie won’t let you come if you’re not wearing appropriate attire.” Then, to Eva, “You got a suit?”

She nodded, “I do.”

“Good, bring a bottle of booze, and you’re set.”

Eva sat there, staring at him, her mouth open. It was one thing for her to tell them what she’d done. It was another thing to come face to face with pictures of her husband’s mutilated body and react with, what? Nonchalance?

Steve leaned towards her, “Connie wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t gotten her out of that restaurant. I don’t give a shit what you did to that guy. What you did, here? That’s what counts.”

She looked between them. Javier wasn’t talking, but he nodded as Steve spoke, offering silent support. Eva felt her chest constrict with a soft affection for them both. The relief was a physical thing, exhaling with her next breath.

“Thank you.”

Steve shrugged, “Don’t mention it. Vodka—bring a bottle. Wear your suit.”

As it turned out, Connie did not cancel their work out that night. She met Eva outside the gym at their regular time, looking at her like a friend. Eva had to cough into her hand to hide the surprised little shriek that wanted to burst out of her when the woman came into view.

They spent the hour sweating and huffing through a one challenging set after another, the sound of the instructor’s voice coaching them through the movements. Afterwards, Eva slumped on the bench, tossing back water and toweling off her face.

“That was fun,” Connie commented from her spot next to her.

Eva sent her a sidelong glance, “Fun is not the word I would use.”

Fun was sitting at a bar, drinking and hollering at the band. Fun was watching a ball game or shopping for new clothes. What they had just done was hard work—muscle burning, lung searing, skin sizzling hard work. Still, Eva enjoyed it, needed the release of endorphins.

“You know, one of the things I look forward to when I get back to the states is flaunting my newly hot body when I see those skinny bitches at my high school reunion.”

Eva laughed, “You’ll be the talk of the party—look at those biceps.”

Connie flexed, smiling wide, “Gotta get me one of those strapless, backless dresses, just to show off.”

“Oh, Steve’ll love that.”

“He would,” Connie said with a coy little tilt of her shoulders. “He tell you about the party?”

Eva nodded, “Yeah, I’ve been tasked with bringing a bottle of vodka.”

“And wearing a suit,” Connie asserted, pointing at Eva.

“I have one, don’t worry.”

“I want everyone dressed for the occasion, no office wear allowed.”

“Ah, damn, I’ll have to leave my pencil skirt at home.”

Connie rolled her eyes, “I’m so glad I get to wear scrubs. My feet still hurt at the end of the day, but at least its not from wearing heels.”

Eva took another long swig, “Yeah, but you do have to be one your feet all day. At least I get to sit down.”

“Pros and cons.”

Eva nodded, “Agreed. Pros and cons.”

“So, are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you and Carrillo? Steve says you’ve been seeing him.”

Eva set down the water bottle. She’d been wondering, herself, when Connie was going to bring it up. Despite their weekly gym excursions, she hadn’t pushed. Eva was grateful—she didn’t really know how she’d characterize her relationship with the man. They weren’t...like, boyfriend and girlfriend. At least, not how she’d known the concept back before she’d been married. Companions, maybe. Friends, definitely. Friends who slept together. Friends with benefits? That felt too trivializing.

“We’ve gone out a few times,” Eva edged, standing and motioning for Connie to follow.

They walked towards the bathrooms, the humidity spiking from the showers as they passed through the doors.

“And?”

Eva opened her locker and pulled out her gym back, rustling around for her change of clothes, “And...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Sighing, Eva stood up and looked at Connie, “I don’t. Not really. I’m only on assignment here for another six months or so. I like him. I like spending time with him. I don’t know where I am from there.”

Connie fixed her with a level look, “You don’t want to get into anything serious because you think you’re leaving in six months.”

Eva thought about it,“Yes.”

“But, you like him enough that you’re willing to go out with him even though it might end sooner rather than later.”

Eva thought again, “Yes.”

She gave a little bob of her head, “That’s fair. Steve says he’s pretty intense.”

Eva didn’t have to think about that one, “Yes.”

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

Eva’s face scrunched, “You want me to say more?”

“Yes, for God’s sake!” Connie burst out, her hands flying in the air, “I want details.”

Eva laughed, “Let me get cleaned up and then we can talk details.”

Connie’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t think I’m going to forget. We’re going to the bar and you’re going to tell me everything.”

They did, indeed, go to the bar, although Eva didn’t really tell Connie everything. She talked about their dates, how he’d been polite and conscientious, how she felt when they kissed, and that she hadn’t yet spent the night at his place but she wanted to.

“You know, when I met him, I thought he was terrifying,” Connie commented as she sipped a gin and tonic.

Eva lifted a brow, “Why?”

Thinking for a moment, Connie settled on, “He was just so serious. Like, really, really serious.”

Eva could get that. The man could write a book on taking things seriously. Serious was in his blood. But, she’d seen him soft and sweet, too. She’d seen his dimples as he smiled. Seen his laugh. There was more to him than he showed to the world, more than a hard, scary man. It made her warm inside to think that she got to see that side of him.

“Shame that you don’t think it’ll last,” Connie said, a leading tone in her voice.

Eva brought her beer to her lips, “I have to go home sometime.”

“Where is home, exactly?”

The question caught Eva off guard. She realized that she didn’t exactly know. For a long time, Louisiana was home, and then Texas, and then a host of assignments. Now, it was Colombia. She’d been traveling for so long that she couldn’t root herself down anywhere. She didn’t even know if she wanted to. Her contract end date had been so far away for so long that Eva had never taken the time to work out what she would do afterward. Her record would be cleared, she would no longer be a felon. She would have years of work experience and a tidy little savings.

The possibilities were so numerous that Eva found herself unable to really settle on any one thing that she wanted—except, that wasn’t exactly true. Her heart, down deep, wanted what she might actually be able to have. A too serious, dimple-cheeked man who smelled like tobacco and vetiver.

Connie was looking at her, waiting for her answer. Eva just shrugged and ordered another round of drinks.

#narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #A Need So Great

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cyberfairyblog · 3 years

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Some more stuff about Vanessa Marbles or marble idk XD

Contains spoilers for a 30+ year old show ft. My fancharacter Vanessa Marbles-Whittaker. Rambling, oc x canon (romantic and platonic), some meddling with canon events, and j*ll*an m*rsh*ll bashing

- i'm thinking about her placement in Odyssey & I'm entertaining the thought of having her "debut" be in 1989 bigbrainmeta

- She arrived in town like right after Connie and Eugene got fired

- So that makes her older than Jason in terms of episodes; she appears a whole 3 years before him 😂

- That first year she did genuinely like her nunnery but didn't really interact with her fellow nuns much keeping them at a distance

- It wasn't until year 2 she started having doubts. Nothing bad happened it just that there was a nagging feeling that she tried to stifle

- Vanessa is afraid of heights that's why she travelled by train instead of plane. She gets nervous by bridges & mountains even a tall hill is enough to make her stomach churn

- She got the job at Whit's End to help herself learn to befriend people & because the show needs more responsible adults lol

- For a time there was rumors about her being a vampire which she took in stride because having sensitive skin she walks around with an umbrella

- Eugene helps her with technology and how to operate the Imagination Station

- "Is that a time machine?"

- "No it's a holographic imagery generator meant to emulate time periods from prehistory all the way to even the future! Well not the future future, still has to figure out how to predict outcomes but I'm working on it."

- Vanessa dead ass got lost at the generator part

- She legit said that she was surprised they didn't blow up Odyssey given how powerful that machine is this around the Novacom arc

- Jason was a total enigma to her like 'who is that crazy fellow' and someone tells her that he's Whit's son & she's like oh. OH John didn't tell me he had kids smh

- They didn't get along at first and had poor communication though Vanessa really did try to be fair

- The funniest moment was when Jason accidentally revealed himself to be NSA and Vanessa revealed herself to be a Blackgaard - THE Blackgaard's daughter

- "Wait so you're mad at me for being a spy but yet you hid THIS from us?"

- "Well yes but actually no, at least you have the entire government on your side everyone literally hates my family jason!"

- Vanessa is very protective of her mother and Uncle Edwin

- She's a somewhat decent actress, she has stage fright sort of but swallows it in order to help her uncle get his play off the ground

- Despite switching to Protestant she still upholds a lot of Catholic values since she was raised as one

-She doesn't have much contact with her mother's side of the family due to strain from her parents divorce again divorce frowned upon in strict Catholic families

- She did give jason a gift for his engagement to Tasha but after that fiasco he tried giving it back to her and she told him to keep it

- In an alternate universe (let's call it marbleverse for future reference) jason proposed to her (having already broke up with Tasha years ago) and she declined not ready for marriage. they hurried up after novacom tho lmao

- Vanessa inherited a Blackgaard Castle located in Connellsville which she retooled as "midnight manor" a haunted house/vacation home

- Vanessa prefers Eugene with his hair down because seeing his eyes creeps her out

- "Six feet apart j*ll*an, six feet apart." Vanessa like everyone else with a brain dislikes villain marshall

- "Hello again it's me Vanessa! Double-S Vanessa, Double-T Whittaker!" She jokes this after she meets j*ll*an the second time

- Vanessa doesn't interact with child characters all that much but a part of her character arc is becoming a cool aunt to jason's cool uncle

- Some kids and connie helped set up a date for jason/vanessa totally not suspicious they knew what was going on and decided to play along; discovered they actually enjoyed each other's company

- During his time as The Stiletto Jason left roses and candy and other tokens around for her to find, which she eventually figured out was a sign of him being alive

- She was mad, relieved, overjoyed at his presence & the rare time you see her cry

- Only other time she cried was when Tom Riley passed because she admired the man

- Meta-wise Vanessa prefers jason's old look though she likes all of his designs

- Vanessa did get her own public access show which was crucial to the novacom arc

- Afterwards she suggested the idea of reforming the boxes into teaching tools, using them as art projects

- Vanessa was so sus of Monica Stone like "you think im not watching you lady?? Think again! I know you, i am watching you!"

- Vanessa and connie are like sisters considering she's an only child; in fact connie waa another close friend she made in odyssey

- If Chris (the narrator) gets sick or unavailable Vanessa fills in for the intro and such is introduced in her workshop painting

- She canonically has a guardian angel named Mariposa who sometimes appears; Mariposa works under Malachi and her human disguise is Posie

- After leaving the nunnery the first thing she did was buy a trendy wardrobe like miniskirts, boots, she was happy she didn't have to were ultra-conservative attire anymore

- She has a pet doberman named angela who ironically hates everyone in town

- If vanessa wasn't with jason her next choice of love interest would've been Richard Maxwell

#canon x oc #oc: vanessa marbles #otp: hidden cafe #adventures in odyssey #adventures in odyssey radio show #aio #oc x canon

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hajime-isayama-official · 7 years

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holy shit i caught it open... anyhoo, is it okay if i ask what quote from the Deadpool movie everyone would be?? hope you're having a great day hajimama!!

Mikasa:Reiner: [waving broken wrists] “All dinosaurs feared the T-Rex!”Bertholdt: “I didn't ask to be super, and I'm no hero. But when you find out your worst enemy is after your best girl, the time has come to be a fucking superhero. “Annie: “I would go with you, but... I don't want to.“Eren: “Maximum effort.“Jean: [In the middle of a fistfight] “Have you seen this man?” [holds up a crude crayon drawing of Francis]Marco: “You ate breakfast, yes? Breakfast is most important meal of day. Here, protein bar. Good for bones. Deadpool may try to break yours.“Sasha:Connie: “Superhero landing. She's gonna do a superhero landing. Wait for it.“Historia: “I've played a lot of roles, damsel in distress ain't one of them.“Armin: “I didn't just get the cure to el cancer, I got the cure to el everything.“Ymir: “ A fourth wall break inside a fourth wall break? That's like, sixteen walls.”

Levi: “You bet on me to die? Wow. Motherfucker, you're the world's worst friend. Well, joke's on you. I'm living to 102. And then die. Like the city of Detroit.”Hanji: [to Wade about Vanessa] “Go get her, tiger.“Erwin: “Your right leg is Thanksgiving and your left leg is Christmas. Can I come and visit you between the holidays?“Nanaba: “Negasonic Teenage... what the shit? That's the coolest name ever!”Mike: “This is confusing. Is it sexist to hit you? Is it more sexist to not hit you? I mean, the line gets real... blurry!”Moblit: Deadpool: [Commenting on her shaved head] “Ripley, from Alien 3!” Negasonic Teenage Warhead: “Fuck, you're old.” Deadpool: [cackles] “Fake laugh. Hiding real pain. Go get Silver Balls.”

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blogmichellea-blog · 6 years

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THE HURDLES OF HARVARD

(Play is set in the Harvard Admissions room, with 6 members of the admission committee seated around a rectangular table, all deciding on the final round of acceptances.

Staff includes:

- Nichole Young and Gary White, the chairman and deputy chairman of admissions (respectively), both middle aged and Caucasian, the most experienced members on the table.

- Earl Q, Rex Tan and Trent Blue, three mid-thirty aged Caucasians, have all worked in admissions for a few years.

- Newcomer, Tim John, a 40-year-old African American.

Each application is displayed on the smartboard and read out by a different staff member.

ACT 1

Nichole: Okay! As we all know, this is the last round of acceptances for the September 2018 incoming undergrads and it has been a great set of months. I’d just like to thank the whole admissions staff for their dedication always. You are what makes Harvard well, Harvard. Thank you, let’s get started.

Gary: Thank you Mrs. Young, and thank you everyone again. You all play very important roles in the upstanding of this university. It truly is always a pleasure working with you all in picking the finest from around the world. Now, let’s begin.

Earl: We have 21 students left, only 4 slots available.

Gary: Okay, reference letter analysis. First person?

Rex: Khan Chi, Journalism, SAT Score of 1450/1600, reference letters from principal, local government chairman, CEO of CarringtonWrites, and The New York times editor.

Nichole: CEO of CarringtonWrites, so that letter is from Blake Carrington himself? Fascinating, what does it say? (Rex scans through trying to find the vital information)

Rex: it says Khan was a summer intern… uh …. Reliable, smart, lots of initiative… he said he sees Khan as the next him, wow.

Gary: Take him to the left pile. Next.

Trent: Serena Waldorf, Aeronautic engineering, Perfect SAT Scores, reference letters from CEO of Shell, Bass Industries, principal, and it says here that her grandma went to Harvard Law, and wrote her a letter of recommendation.

Nichole: what does the CEO of Shell have to say about her? (Trent scans through)

Trent: The best high school intern yet… Harvard will be lucky to have her… and a bunch of her other skills.

Gary: Ha! This is Harvard, she would be lucky to have US! (Everyone starts laughing) Gary: Pile to the left. Next. Tim: Erin Miller, Film Studies, SAT score of 1300/1600…

Nichole: what makes him stand out from the others then? Tim: Uh, I see he has slightly more letters of recommendation than most, he has 15 and applicants like Michelle Lee and Rachel Adams have 4, the lowest number on the list.

Gary: Are the 4 references from very notable people?

Tim: Principal, Minister… Organizations… nothing extraordinary here.

Gary: Put Erin Miller, Michelle Lee and Rachel Adams on the right pile

Tim: Are you sure sir? Gary: We have 4 slots left. This is Harvard and their applications don’t cut it, I’ve been here for 21 years I know the kind of applicants I’ve seen. These do not cut it, maybe they’ll get into Princeton or Yale, Next.

Earl: Renee Howard, Law, 1250/1600 on her SATs, Letters of recommendation from her parents. Says here she’s a legacy, her parents are both Harvard law graduates. Reference Letter from Judge Judy herself, says she was an amazing intern…

Nichole: Judge Judy herself said something nice about someone? Wow, I’ve truly seen it all. (Everyone starts laughing)

Gary: This is nothing. Remember about 7 years ago, when an applicant was endorsed by Oprah and Ellen DeGeneres personally?

Nichole: I do! Renee is fascinating, take her to the left. Rex: Next person we have is Jenny Humphrey, Fashion Designing, 9 Letters of Recommendation, one from Donatella Versace herself!

Nichole: 23 years of being here and it still shocks me every time how these 18-year-olds get affiliated with the most famous people.

Gary: This is Harvard, Nichole, they better. (Everyone shakes their head in agreement)

Gary: Left. Next person.

Trent: Vanessa Abrams, Criminology, Her SAT scores are 1100/1600…

Gary: Right pile. Next.

Earl: Wes Scott, Human Resources, 1350/1600 on her SATs, 8 letters of recommendation, one from Michelle Obama herself.

Gary: Impressive. Left. Next.

Rex: Rebecca Philips, Aeronautical Engineering, Perfect SAT Scores and 18 Reference letters, says her dad owns Aric Airlines too.

Nichole: Left. Next. Staff 4: Dequan Richards…

Gary: Oh God, Dequan, really? (Whole room goes silent)

Gary: Right pile. (Everyone looks at each other)

Tim: What do you mean by that?

Gary: I think we all know why…

Tim: (Tim being new, confused and naïve asks) No actually, I don’t.

Gary: Tim, Harvard just isn’t for people called ‘Dequan’. Maybe he’ll get into Howard or even UCLA.

Tim: But you didn’t even look at his application.

Nichole: Perhaps we should move on, we are running out of time…

Tim: No Gary, please tell us, how does his name being Dequan disqualify him from Harvard.

Nichole: Wow, it says here he got perfect SAT scores, Business student and he has 17 letters of recommendation. One from the governor, senator and Tesla CEO Elon Musk himself. Incredible.

Gary: (Mumbles quietly) Wow.

Tim: Oh well, he’s not good enough for Harvard anyways as his name is still Dequan right? (Mumbles) Racist.

Gary: What was that Tim?

Tim: I think you heard me. (Whole room goes silent)

Gary: is anyone not going to say anything?

Nichole: We’ll sort this out later.

Tim: No, this man has been here for 21 years? Who knows how many qualified African Americans he has done this to? I’m honestly horrified.

Nichole: Tim, I promise you we will talk about this later, we have a deadline to meet. (Tim stays quiet)

Nichole: Please. Trent: … Well, next we have Connie Thompson, performing arts, 1300/1600 SAT scores, worked with Julia Andrews on Broadway, Letters of recommendation from 7 people including Meryl Streep and Shonda Rhimes.

Nichole: Nice! Left, Next. Rex: Sean Willow, African American studies….

Tim: (Coughs and speaks mockingly) Gary isn’t this the part when you barge in and disqualify this person immediately?

Gary: …and mind telling me why you’d think that?

Tim: Well he’s majoring in African American studies…?

Gary: Don’t start with me kid, I can get you out of here with a click of a finger.

Nichole: Gentlemen please, not here not now. Continue please.

Rex: Okay… SAT scores are 800/1600, 4 recommendation letters.

Gary: With those SAT Scores? Who is even writing him the recommendation, my God.

Everyone: Right! Next. (Everyone starts laughing)

Earl: Is it bad that I love people like this because they make our job so easy?

Everyone: You can say that again!

Nichole: How many years of me doing this and I still feel guilty declining people.

Gary: It’ll pass.

Tim: Oh, of course you’d say that.

Nichole: Ha-ha…okay (trying to break the tension) let’s just move on, shall we?

Trent: Sheba Tay, Telecommunications, 700/1600, re…

Earl: How did she even have the heart to apply to Harvard with those SAT scores?

Gary: Well, often in that case, their strengths usually reside in other aspects in other aspects they feel could balance that out.

Trent: Says here both her parents and both her grandparents went to Harvard, she is a complete legacy.

Gary: That’s your answer. Left pile, next.

Earl: Ann Costa, Psychology, Perfect SAT scores, only 3 letters of recommendation.

Nichole: Hm, only 3? Anyone renowned?

Earl: Not that I see, no.

Nichole: If only you could get into Harvard with grades alone… and the guilt returns… right pile. Next.

Tim: Riah Richardson, Sociology, 1400/1600 SAT Scores, 6 Letters of recommendation.

Nichole: Who do we have that sticks out?

Tim: (Scans through all the names of the reference letters) Uh…nope…nope…nope…Oh! The chairman of Zuckerberg foundation.

Nichole: anyone else that’s high up there?

Tim: Not necessarily.

Gary: To the right, next.

Rex: Elvis… Nichole: Presley? Next.

(Everyone starts laughing)

Rex: (giggles) Pratt actually.

Nichole: Close enough. (Everyone laughs again)

Rex: Elvis Pratt, Cellular Biology, 1400/1600 SAT Scores, 5 letters of recommendation, including from CEO of Bill Nye the science guy himself, says here he was the youngest summer intern from grade 10.

Gary: Right. Nichole: Are you sure?

Gary: Yes, he’s good but for science at Harvard? He should be getting 1500-1550/1600. Maybe…

Everyone: (mockingly) “Princeton will accept him” (Laughs)

Trent: Next we have Terry Dion, Music, 1200/1600 SAT Scores, Son of Celine Dion actually, letters of recommendation from 8 people.

Gary: Left. Trent: You don’t want to know who the letters are from?

Nichole: It’s Celine Dion’s Son. Celine Dion. Harvard doesn’t keep its honorable name for just accepting no-name geniuses.

Trent: Okay then, next person is Robet Yatson, International student from Indonesia, Politics, he’s also a son of an ambassador, 5 letters of recommendation and perfect SAT scores.

Nichole: Impressive, left. Next.

Earl: Moren Recks, Comparative Literature, Perfect SAT Scores, 6 letters of recommendation.

Nichole: From who?

Earl: Uh… The most intriguing person here is Stephen King, the writer. Says here Moren was hand chosen to interview Stephen King at a school function and was noticed by him straight away and called for a private meeting afterwards.

Gary: Great, left.

Tim: Next is Yip Keller, Immunology, 1500/1600 SAT score, 3 Letters of recommendation.

Gary & Nichole: From who?

Tim: I don’t recognize anybody’s name, just the principal, a university lecturer and…

Gary: Nothing extraordinary then, Right pile.

Rex: And that’s all, we’ve officially viewed everyone’s application. (Everyone starts clapping)

Gary: Thank you all, 30-minute break and we shall continue to the left pile and pick the top 4 candidates based on their extra curriculums and personal statements. (CURTAINS CLOSE)

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sweetest-teeth · 7 years

Text

19. Remembrance of Things Lost

1. Student ID

In the hustle of graduating college and moving out of the house I lived in, packing was secondary. My family rented a van to drive there and bring me back home. It’s kind of silly how I lost it after holding on to the same ID for all four years, my face almost entirely scratched out, the card itself no doubt a cesspool of germs. Certainly after being kept between bras and tucked in-between skirts and skins when I didn’t have pockets. The tiny particles of cafeteria food that probably slipped into the cracks. The nights of momentary panic after coming home from a night out without it, only to find the card in my student mailbox the next day. I was blessed with many good samaritans and should’ve lost it sooner. After a couple weeks at home I couldn’t find it and my room was too sweltering to spend much energy looking for anything. It’s unfortunate because I still look twelve. I had a good five years of discounted movie tickets and theater screenings to take advantage of, but I like to think of myself as a patron of the arts so I’ll get over paying full-price for everything.

2. Parrot earring

I buy earrings in bulk because I have a habit for leaving them everywhere. Thrift stores are especially good for this. I mostly like gold, silver, bronze and off-white jewelry now. But At 19 I was on my Vanessa Huxtable shit with colorful floral sweaters and bright tights and earrings with character - literally. The Betty Boop ones were on heavy rotation, just like my parrot earrings were. Those were wooden and painted red, blue, and green. Losing one earring is worse then losing them both. You’re constantly reminded of the missing soulmate. The parrots are too specific to mix with another lost soul. So I keep one. Maybe when I’m ambitious I’ll make it into a necklace. But I probably won’t, it’ll just stay in the same ceramic jar collecting dust.

3. One of Two Goldfish

Nigerians love party favors. You didn’t go to Nigerian party is you don’t come back with a mug with someone’s face on it, or dish towels, or a tote bag with something like “Olu and Mayowa’s Wedding” emblazoned in bold. When I was in high school my mom came back from a party with two goldfish. They were the first pets I ever owned. I was on a real Godfather kick at the time so I named the fish Michael and Connie (after the Corleones). We got them a 10 gallon tank but they never seemed to grow bigger, staying a couple inches long and relatively healthy. I guess I lost my motivation to care for them - yikes, maybe I shouldn’t have kids - because when I ran out of fish food two years later, I wasn’t in a hurry to get more. I figured there was enough algae and shit in the tank for them to feed off of, right? Until the day an old friend came by, looked at my fish tank and said “I think this one’s dead?” Never found the other one. My hypothesis is that Michael ate Connie. I turned over the gravel and plastic rock decoration and did not find the second fish. R.I.P. Connie. Sorry I drove your brother to cannibalism.

4. $50 in Thailand

In high school I had the absolutely wild experience of traveling to Thailand for 3 ½ weeks during my junior year. I went with the theater troupe I was a part of; we had spent the months leading up to the trip at our director’s house Skyping with the Thai group we’d be staying with. Northern Thailand was a colorful, humid, magical time, even though I had the shits for a third of the trip and came back to school with a mound of make-up homework and AP Exams the next week. Each of us were given a daily stipend, but aside from that I brought $150 of my own cash. Towards the tail end of ur trip we spent a night or two in Pai. I stepped out for the afternoon that day and came back to find my clean laundry stacked on my bed and the $50, which I could have sworn I kept somewhere secure, gone. It didn’t really matter then. But I felt it when I came home and was swamped with homework and exams and just wanted to blow my money on retail therapy. Who the fuck loses $50? My absentminded ass. It’s like my brain goes on autopilot when I have to put something important away. I haven’t outgrown that, unfortunately.

5. A piece of molar

The second semester of senior year of college is a lot like home stretch of senior year of high school. Except more illicit substances, angst and skipping class. Anyway. One day I woke up as normal, went to one of the last classes of the year, and found my tongue touching a fragment in my upper right molar that wasn’t there before. It was chipped, like really chipped, like “can’t even root canal this, take the whole tooth out” chipped. I had used up most of my dental insurance that year and had to wait until January for the extraction. I spent 6 months chewing on the left side of my mouth, averting food particles the best I could lest one of them lodge into the cavity and fester and cause a heart-attack inducing sepsis (you can tell I go on WebMd too much). It was odd getting used to the gap where my molar was. Now it’s just smooth gum and hurts a little every once in awhile, if phantom pain from tooth extractions is even a thing.

6. The obvious

I’m not going to get into painstaking detail except that it was fall, but the point in fall where it gets chilly and you’re reminded winter is coming. I was doing a bunch of paperwork to prepare for the following semester I would spend in France, sort of seeing someone, but in that not-too-serious way that happens when you both know that what you’re doing is temporary. The event itself was fine, it took several tries and lots of sweating but ultimately patience won and the deed was done. I didn’t feel too different. And it didn’t hurt at all, really. As I walked home that night I texted my best friend rapidly: It happened! :)

#52essays2017 #nonfiction #ola faleti

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