Something Else
by Douglas Young
part 1
Moxley Sorrel’s office door was the open one. As intimidated as he had been in college approaching a professor, Dr. Sorrel did all he could to make students feel comfortable getting help with a course, continuing a compelling class discussion, asking for advice on a major or what courses to take, or just to chat or say, “Hey.” He enjoyed students and welcomed a break from reading, writing, grading, or whatever work he was doing. Almost all the students were sweet, several could be quite amusing, and many just needed a confidence boost.
Whenever a student was unpleasant or taxed his patience, Moxley reminded himself how troubled he was in college and that teaching and mentoring students was his job. Other faculty offices’ blinds were drawn, their door’s little window papered over, and each door shut tight even when the light was on inside and the professor was clearly there. Students knew how much most professors really wanted to see them. Moxley vowed always to have his office blinds all the way up, his door window clear, and the door open wide.
Ensconced in reading on his computer that afternoon, he was slightly startled by the hesitant knock at the door. Turning to see who it was, he immediately smiled at Blossom Porter, one of his most pleasant students whose happy, wide-eyed curiosity during lectures always lifted his mood. The tall and pretty brunette-blonde had a joyful demeanor that made the world better, and Moxley relished their chats for her enthusiastic frankness.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” she said with a tentative smile. “Should I come back later?”
“No, not at all. Come on in. I was just lost in reading but could use a break. Have a seat.” He stood and gestured across his desk to the chair for guests.
He sensed something was amiss since she looked at the floor, moved slowly and stayed silent.
“What can I do for you, Miss Blossom?” He raised his head with a jovial expression to try to pick up her spirits.
“Well, I just got out of Professor Ewing’s class—”
“Get a good nap?” he asked, recalling how bored he was whenever enduring a presentation by his colleague. “Talk about being guilty of boring in the first degree.”
While she was relieved and flashed a genuine smile, he noted that it quickly vanished when she normally would have erupted in laughter.
“I was just wondering if you could please answer a couple of questions before next week’s test,” she asked softly. He was struck by the contrast with her usual strong and confident voice.
“Fire away, dear.” He leaned back in his chair.
Hesitating, she gradually opened her notebook and asked a few questions about recent lectures. He enthusiastically explained what she needed to know for the test, trying to make the material as intriguing as possible. Nodding, she wrote much more slowly than usual and only faintly smiled at his funny anecdotes rather than typically laughing louder than anyone in class.
She continued writing in her notebook for a minute after he finished talking and, for the first time that semester, he felt some tension with her, because she normally would continuously juggle talking, smiling and laughing. Instead, she stared intently at her notebook and wrote quietly. When finished, she gradually looked up to offer a weak smile and a “Thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked, hoping to cheer her up. “I hope you’re not worried about the test. You did really well on the last one, and you appear to be taking a lot of notes. Don’t stress over this, Blossom.”
“No. Thanks. I’m not,” she said softly looking at his bookshelves. “Not over that anyway...”
For the first time in the few months they had known each other, he felt her emanate a keen anxiety mixed with exhaustion or even depression, in total contrast to her usual ebullience. Recalling the intense loneliness that haunted his student days, he did not want her to leave looking so down and alone.
“Are you all right?” he asked gently.
“I guess,” she replied looking at the floor. “Or as all right as I’ll ever be, or deserve to be.”
He paused to study her face as she stared at her hands. “Blossom, if there’s anything I can help you with, I hope you’ll tell me. It’s pretty plain to see that something’s sure troubling you. Does it have anything to do with the class?”
“No, no.” She shook her head, looked back up at the bookshelves and sighed, something he had never heard from her. “Something else.”
“Is there someone you can talk with about it?” he asked.
She blinked and shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, whatever you’re fretting about, I’m confident you’ll lick it. You’ve gotten through everything else, haven’t you?” He smiled. With her face still frozen in sadness, he tried again.
“As Ronald Reagan’s favorite president, Calvin Coolidge, said, ‘If you see ten troubles coming down the road, you can be sure that nine will run into the ditch before they reach you.’”
“Mine already ran over me,” she replied drily.
“You must be pretty torn up about it, sure enough, since this is the longest I’ve ever seen you go without smiling, and by far.”
“I’m sorry,” she said barely above a whisper while glancing at him and smiling weakly.
“No. You have nothing for which to apologize, Blossom.” He waved his hands. “I’m just trying to cheer you up and let you know I’m here if ever you need any help or just to talk.”
“Thanks, but you might not think much of me if I did.”
“Nonsense,” he declared with a surprised frown. “Good Lord, child. You’re such a lovely young lady who’s working hard and doing very well, and you’ve got a fantabulous future ahead of you.”
She looked at his eyes to intuit if she could trust him. He returned what he hoped was his most empathetic expression, suddenly realizing this was his day’s most important work. As she looked at him intently, he held her gaze, blinked, raised his eyebrows, and smiled a little, hoping to reassure her that she would be okay and he would never think less of her.
“I had an abortion,” she said in a distant voice, her eyes still locked on his as he noticed her chest rise and fall.
When she said no more, he nodded and got up to do something he almost never did: he closed the door. Returning to his seat, he made a point of patting her slumped shoulder as she looked at her feet. Early that term she talked of living with her boyfriend and his mother, but he also remembered she was only 19 and had spoken of her religiously strict family.
When she stayed silent, he spoke. “Blossom, I still think every bit as highly of you.” She looked at him again with the trace of a silent laugh as he smiled at her.
“Thanks. I’m glad someone still does.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Aw, everyone does who really knows or loves you.”
“I doubt that,” she responded in a stronger voice. He thought he detected a hint of anger.
“Is Todd not supportive? You’ve always said how good he’s been to you. Is he giving you a hard time?”
“No... not too much.” She frowned. “He didn’t like it. But he could’ve been a lot worse.”
“I know y’all live in his mother’s house. Is she upset?”
“Oh, she doesn’t know, no way.” She shook her head emphatically.
“And she doesn’t have to. If you think it could harm y’all’s relationship, she doesn’t ever need to know,” he noted as she shook her head again.
“Todd wanted to go ahead and get married and start a family.” She looked at the desk. “He’s 28, and I’m sure if I was that old I probably would, too, but I just turned 19, and I really want to be the first person in my whole family tree ever to get a college degree,” she stressed looking up at him. “You see, Dr. Sorrel, my momma started college but then got pregnant with my eldest sister and dropped out and never went back, and then each of my sisters went to college but got pregnant and left, too. Neither’s gone back and I reckon they never will.” She looked resigned.
“Todd just doesn’t understand,” she continued. “He never went to college and is in construction, like Daddy, and they both make good money. But I’m a girl, Dr. Sorrel; I can’t do that. I just so want to make something of myself.”
“Sure. Of course, you do.” He nodded.
“I don’t know what yet.” She shrugged and threw up her hands. “But I know I don’t want to be like all the other women in my family. I mean — don’t get me wrong — I love ’em all dearly. They’re my closest kin, and I so adore all my cute little nieces and nephews. But I just really think I can get a college degree and do some things... have some chances that nobody in my family’s ever had.”
“That’s wonderful, Blossom. Thoroughly commendable. And it is your life, dear.”
“Thank you, Dr. Sorrel,” she said with a nod and a tired smile.
“Has your family supported your pursuing a degree?”
“Oh, yeah.” She nodded eagerly. “They’ve been telling everybody how ‘Blossom’s gon’ be the first one ever to get a college degree. Who’d a-ever guessed it’d be the baby of the family?’ Laurie and Zara are a lot older and were both cheerleaders and on the homecoming court. So, other than being ‘the runt of the litter,’ the only way I’ve ever stood out was being pretty good at school. So the last thing in the world I ever wanted was to disappoint Momma and Daddy like my sisters did when they dropped out of college.”
“And you haven’t and you won’t.” He raised his head and paused. “Might your folks be supportive of your... decision?”
Copyright © 2026 by Douglas Young
