2. Cedric
2
CEDRIC
S ofia’s proposal is interesting, but she’s riding a fine line between content creation and art. I don’t particularly care which route she prefers to take. That depends on what she wants after this, but she needs to think it through before she starts making big moves in filming this.
Usually, my question would drop someone’s shoulders, turn their gaze down and away from scrutiny, have them fidgeting or fumbling with an answer, but Sofia sits tall, a small smile on her mouth.
The challenge has perked her up, and I find that I enjoy this response. She’s nearly preening under my scrutiny. No one ever preens. Flourish, yes, if pressed right. But they never bloom quite this way.
It was evident when she was in my classroom freshman year. When she didn’t turn into one of those giggling flirts who were easily intimidated or infatuated, I enjoyed speaking with her about films, editing techniques, and story arcs.
Her unwavering sense of self and confidence in her vision are what had me signing on as her thesis advisor to begin with.
The emails we exchanged solidified how well she’ll take my mentoring over the next year.
“Watch the concept video. It’ll answer more of your questions than I can through explanations.” There’s no testiness to her voice, but it does offer up a bit of amusement.
After another few silent seconds, I tap my finger against the thumb drive before I lean back and slide it into the USB slot on my computer.
Again, Sofia is calm as she waits for me to pull the video up—the only file on the drive—and play it.
It opens with a smiling Sofia in the sun, greenery and a brick facade at her back. Soft giggling wafts into the mic from behind the camera. Her blue eyes are lit up, shining from within as she laughs.
“It’s officially summer,” she says to the camera. “And my son has turned into a little goblin.”
Her voice rises enough so that her son can obviously hear her. The view slices away from her face, spanning a long, narrow back yard where a little dark-haired boy is hopping through the grass after a bug.
The video cuts through small moments—her son crying when he got stung by a bee, the bedtime ritual and his big eyes fighting the pull of sleep, her hand brushing across his forehead as she bends to kiss his forehead.
B-roll fills in some of the spaces between, the slight sway of a swing settling, her loading up the dishwasher, folding clothes, cooking, watching a movie with her father. An irritated look from her mother, playing, her job packing up a monthly subscription box.
She faces the camera directly only a few times to decompress on whatever issues we see that need fuller context, like a date she goes on with a young, red-headed male who smiles at her a bit too much.
It’s captivating in a way I haven’t seen before. She’s authentic, selling herself as a person and a product through her genuineness.
She leans in almost conspiratorially to the camera, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let me bring you in on a little secret. Men, women, etcetera, life is too short for a bad romp in bed. Too short. I don’t understand why so many settle for boring sex. Ain’t happening in this girl’s bed. Not if I can help it.”
There’s a flash of a kiss. A hand on a wide chest. The frown on the red-head’s mouth before the door closes in finality.
“If you can’t get on the same page during a kiss, if there’s no spark, you’re not going to build it in bed. All of that needs to come beforehand. Anticipation. Intimacy. Trust. You know what I mean?” Her laughter is soft and delightful.
It feels like I’m sitting with her. That I’m her confidant. Her friend. I’m struggling to keep the smile off my face.
I sit back and cover my mouth at the quick nature of the storyline she creates. I get the impression of long, warm, sunny days and dark, starry nights. Campfires and toasted marshmallows. Restaurants and a variety of new foods. Her son happily munching across from her.
The familial love is also highly evident in their frequency and the light they’re shown in.
Things I learn about Sofia in these packed five minutes are numerous.
She has movie nights with her dad and son.
They try a lot of new food because her son is interested in it. There are repeated flashes of him picking up things in the grocery store to smell and ask questions about. He likes to tastes things he’s not supposed to.
Her mother is very affectionate, passionate.
Sofia likes to read tawdry romance novels and watch rom-coms. Her belief in love comes through clearly.
She also likes to date, but it doesn’t seem as though any of the men and women she’s gone out with have made it past her front door.
The women’s empowerment box she curates and creates content for strikes at a core belief. Her pride shines through, and so much of what she shows reinforces those ideals.
When she stands in front of the mirror and looks at herself, hair a tangled mess on top of her head, face blotchy and red, eyes puffy from crying, and a T-shirt hanging off her, Sofia leans in a little and says, “Fuck. Why does day two always hurt like hell? Treating myself to some dark chocolate and a sad movie.” Her peace sign is half-hearted, and her grimace is too real.
I have to hide my silent laugh behind my hand. Most women I’ve been around who have been comfortable enough to talk about it—which consists of only my sister—it’s always been in snarls and sarcasm.
It’s followed by movies and chocolate. A bubble bath with ruby painted toes peeking out of the soapy water. A glass of wine.
Her summer is glossed in golden perfection, bland but beautiful boredom, and the realities of being a single mom.
It’s the perfect short video to make a viewer fall in love with her a little bit.
When she blows a kiss at the camera and waves goodbye, I sit and stare at her smiling on the screen for a minute, contemplating the way she put this together. Her intention. Where she might go with it given the longer format of her project.
Most of it comes back to the fact that I want to see more.
I turn to Sofia in the flesh. She peers at me with those soft blue eyes, blinking innocently at me. She knows she’s done a good job.
Nodding at her, I fold my hands in front of my chin, seeing if she’ll crack.
Sofia maintains my eye contact without fear. How many people have you had to stare down to make them take you seriously?
“I see you’ve thought this through.”
She grins and brightens. “Of course I did.”
I enjoy that reaction in her. When it’s aimed at me. Like it deepens the connection she’s worked to forge during the video. Such an excellent job she’s done. I bet she’ll go far with this.
“Are you wearing the camera right now?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She nods, taps her glasses, and looks at me meaningfully.
I lean back, taking her in. The woman before me has grown into herself since she was in my class nearly three years ago. I can see her working her way up to producing movies shortly after her graduation.
I can only laugh. “Okay. Approved.”
I motion the paper forward to sign, and she hands it over easily, has it ready for me. Cheeky little thing.
Scribbling my signature across the bottom, I hold it out for her as we both stand. “Good job.”
Sofia’s smile is near blinding. And the jumper she has on is professional even as it shows off her long, curvy thighs, her bare arms, the smooth white skin below her collarbones.
It’s tantalizing.
With a swish of her hair, she pulls her bag over her shoulder. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Unless there’s anything else you need from me.”
The slow blink this time is not so innocent.
I should be shaking my head at her. Instead, I simply let the blast of heat settle over me and promise myself to tackle those feelings later.