Lia

Professor Victoria Song is a legend in the microbiology field.

Ever since I took her class last semester, I have been in awe of this woman. She moved to the US in the last year of high school, barely scraped by with her grades as a new student, and went to an unknown community college. After she graduated, she got the chance to work for a prominent microbiology professor, and from then on, her achievements skyrocketed—Yale for graduate school, Stanford for postdoctoral research, and now, a full professor at UCLA. Her name pops up all over UCLA’s social media sites like a superstar because of her slew of awards and publications. 

Best of all, she is an outstanding teacher who cares a lot about her students’ education, a rare trait in professors, unfortunately.

“I am where I am today because of what that professor did for me, and so I am paying it back,” was what she had said on the first day of class last semester. And she put her one-hundred-and-one percent into teaching us.

She is a legend, and I cannot believe I am speaking to her about joining her lab.

What is even more unbelievable, however, is that Yeju works for her.

Yeju. That annoying woman who made my night hell. That petty apartment mate who drank my milk despite my name written all over it. How is she even a graduate student with that level of maturity? 

This is also the first time I am seeing her with a full set of clothes: black jeans and a black tank top. Her signature flower tattoos on her arms are the only color she has in her full-black outfit. Instead of the usual mess, her hair is now combed and tied up in a ponytail just like mine.

She glares at me, not at all hiding her anger. I am furious at myself too. Out of all the research projects Professor Song told me about, I had to choose the one that belongs to Yeju. The project sounded interesting though: developing inhibitors that can prevent bacteria’s toxicity without killing them. Or at least, that’s what I understood in between all the big words that were said.

“Take a seat, Yeju,” Professor Song says, breaking our staring contest.

Yeju complies, but her jaw clenches as though she is stopping herself from yelling at me.

“So Lia here is a talented sophomore who wants to dip her toes into microbiology research.” Professor Song waves her hand at me. “She took my lab class last semester and did really well, and she has already completed a bunch of basic microbiology classes. I pitched a few projects to her, and she’s the most interested in yours, which is perfect.”

This is crazy. One of the coolest professors in the world just called me talented. I should be brimming with joy, but it’s hard to feel happy when Yeju is scowling at the table. Her gaze is not directed at me, but I can still feel the jab from her piercing eyes.

There is a slight pause before Professor Song asks, “You wanted an undergrad to help you out with your project, right, Yeju? I remember you requesting for one over the summer.”

That seems to jolt Yeju out of her angry trance. “Yeah… Yeah, I do.”

The professor lifts her brow. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, sorry, Victoria, I’m just… I’m just thinking. There’s been an issue with my experiment.”

“Anything I have to be concerned about?”

“No. Just some things I have to repeat.”

“Well, after you train Lia, she can help you out with some of the stuff you need to do. She says she’s very willing to learn.”

Professor Song looks at me, and I take that as a cue to chime in, “Yes! Yes, I am!”

She smiles. “Great! Anyway, I’m sure Yeju will do a better job than me explaining her project to you. After she gets you oriented, she can guide you through what you can do for her. I look forward to seeing you around, Lia.”

I thank her profusely before Yeju announces we should get back to work. 

As I follow Yeju down the hallway, my heart pounds in my ears. I have been excited about this opportunity all summer, and I want to do well in this new role. But with Yeju as my graduate student mentor, my confidence is waning. If she is going to treat me like how she has been treating me in the apartment, then I’m screwed.

But… she wouldn’t, would she? This is a professional environment, after all. And she was somewhat cordial in front of Professor Song. Somewhat.

Yeju enters an office and settles at the desk right next to the door. There are empty seats next to her, but they seem to belong to other people. So I stand awkwardly behind her as she types into her laptop, ignoring me.

A man sits at the other end of the room. He looks up from his computer and waves at me. I wave back. Then, he turns back to his screen while I am back to standing here like an out-of-place statue.

I take in a deep breath. All first days are rough, right? And all of this will lead to good things. I just need to be patient…

Finally, Yeju stands. She walks to a printer, grabs the paper, and thrusts it into my hands, along with a pair of safety glasses that are stashed on the top shelf.

“Wear this. I’m gonna be making agar plates now, and this is the general procedure.”

Excitement crawls back into me as I read through the steps. Agar plates! They are petri dishes filled with nutrient agar for bacteria to grow on! “Are we growing bacteria?”

“This is a microbiology lab, of course we are.”

I wince at that snarky remark. “So, um, what… what are we growing?”

Yeju answers by stalking out of the office. She is not taller than me, but I need to jog to keep up with her. We enter the lab space.

“Grab a lab coat,” she instructs. Without stopping, she grabs hers from the wall and puts it on. 

A few more lab coats hang on the wall, and I frantically snag one. Dang it, this is a large-sized coat. But Yeju is too far away now, so I give up exchanging for a smaller size.

For the next ten minutes, I scramble behind Yeju as she flies around the lab, taking things from the fridge and the shelf, weighing out chemicals, and measuring liquids. Whenever we walk by a lab member, I try to introduce myself, but I always have to cut it short before Yeju disappears out of my sight. I also try to ask Yeju what she is doing, but the responses are so lackluster that I give up asking anything after a while. If all Yeju wants for my first day is to just shadow her, that’s fine. I have the procedure in my hands to refer to and learn from.

Yeju is weighing the salts when a student approaches.

“Hey, Yeju, the mass spectrometry is beeping again.”

She groans. “Again?”

“Yeah, and we did what you did just now, but it didn’t solve it this time.”

Yeju curses under her breath. “Alright, let me check it out.” She glances at me—the first time we make eye contact after leaving Professor Song’s office. “Go hang around at my desk or something.”

And then, I am alone.

Once again, I take in a deep breath. Patience, Lia, patience… All first days are rough, but if I reorient my mindset, my day has actually been going well so far. Classes were interesting, Professor Song seemed to like me a lot, and Yeju talked to me without yelling at me to move out—a true improvement.

I read through the procedure again. We’ve reached the second last step. All that is left to do is to weigh five grams of these salts, put them into the bottle with the other stuff, and then ‘autoclave’ it, whatever that means.

My eyes dart from the paper to the weighing scale, and a thought strikes me. These last few steps sound simple enough; surely I can help Yeju do them. And maybe that might encourage her to let me participate more. I’m going to show Yeju I am a capable mentee who can be asked to do things.

Motivated, I get to work. Weigh five grams of the salts. Add them to the bottle. Dissolve.

The last step is to ‘autoclave’, which I have seen the instructor do it last semester in my introductory lab class. It is a giant over-like equipment used to sterilize something. I circle the lab until I find the equipment that I remember from last semester. It matches what Google Images is showing me too. I place the bottle inside and press ‘start’.

It’s done after fifteen minutes. As I slide the door open, steam gushes out and blinds me.

“There you are!” Yeju marches towards me. “What the hell are you doing? Didn’t I say to wait at my desk?”

I am flapping my hands to get the steam out of my eyes. “Oh, you gave me the procedure, so I followed it and finished it for you.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” she barks. Her body is shaking as she points at the autoclave. “Look at what you did!”

The steam clears, and I can finally see the bottle I placed inside the equipment. It is empty. A large crack runs down the side. The cap has popped off, nowhere to be seen, while the bottom of the oven is covered in brown, steaming liquid.

How… How did that happen?

“You capped the bottle?” Yeju continues to yell. “This thing pressurizes everything inside, you idiot! You’re lucky the bottle didn’t explode! Also, you never just put a bottle in like this! You gotta put it in a tray with water for better temperature control.”

“I’m… I’m sorry…”

“And now I have to clean up the autoclave too! Fucking hell, how many lab instruments do I have to fix today?” She grabs the cracked bottle and tosses it into the trash. “Get out of here, Lia. I don’t have the mood to deal with you anymore. Talented student, my ass.”

The steam has completely cleared, but my vision blurs again. Yeju’s tirade reminds me of Eunice’s outburst that day; her expression reminds me of my mother’s. 

My stomach ties into a knot. Not again. Why can I never escape the disappointment? The disdain. The distrust.

No. No. This semester is supposed to be different from my summer. It will be.

I wipe my tears away. Yeju is bending over the autoclave and wiping it with a cloth. I grab another towel and follow suit.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, I said to go home, Lia! Do you never listen to instructions?”

“But this is my mess…”

“Then leave before you make more!”

I look at Yeju. My eyes must be red from my tears, but I do not care; I do not waver my gaze. “I won’t make more. Teach me, and I won’t make any more mess.” My lips quiver as I push out the last word in a whisper, “Please.”

A long, uncomfortable silence ensues.

Yeju is the first to break eye contact. “Clean this up,” she mutters. “After this, let’s go back to the office and I’ll properly explain the project to you.” 

I blink to stop my tears from spilling again. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well…” She looks away, eyelashes fluttering. “I should have done that first anyway.”