by Lisa Patton
I lay my phone down on my knee. Look over at my friend. “Something’s bad wrong. I can hear it in her voice. I know it, Marvelle, I know it in here.” I point to my heart.
He doesn’t respond. All he does is close his eyes and let his chin dip down to his chest. We sit in silence a long while, until it’s time for me to check the downstairs powder rooms for paper. The new pledges will be here in under an hour.
FORTY-ONE
WILDA
Only ten more minutes of this, I think, as I zip up my suitcase. Then I’m free!
Sallie and Gwen are in their rooms getting dressed; then we’re all dashing out of here together. We’ve decided to drive our own cars to campus, despite the crowded parking lots. None of us wants a reason to return to Lilith’s condo, plus I have a feeling we’ll be mowing down anything in our way to get the hell out of Dodge as soon as Bid Day is over.
I’ve decided to resign from the Advisory Board—effective immediately. Aside from the obvious reasons, I need to get to the business of finding a job. And putting this dorm room debt behind us, before Haynes finds out. All I’ve been able to think about these last few days is the big-ass lie I told my husband. Yes, so Ellie could have a beautiful dorm room, but also, if I’m honest, to get in good with Lilith Whitmore. Oh dear God. I must have temporarily lost my mind.
Ellie told me this morning she wants to room with Cali next year. Once that happens Lilith Whitmore will once again become a distant memory. I may run into her every now and then at a game or at the Alpha Delt House, but it will require no more than a wave or, at most, a brief chat. I can practically taste my emancipation already.
Lilith left for the House early this morning, something about checking on Annie Laurie’s gift baskets. Technically, she’s not supposed to know Annie Laurie is getting a bid to Alpha Delt, but since we were the only House Annie Laurie visited on Pref, it’s no secret.
Sallie is good friends with the owner of The Perfect Pick, a gift shop on the Square, and the lady told her confidentially they “could retire” on the profit from Annie Laurie’s Bid Day presents. Sallie said the lady was kidding, of course, but she did say everyone would be shocked at the amount of loot Annie Laurie would be raking in this afternoon.
Haynes and I ordered Ellie a bouquet of roses from Oxford Floral, which I can’t help hoping will be white, the Alpha Delt flower. We also picked out a gift basket full of Greek-lettered trinkets. Mama has also ordered her roses. It’s funny when I think about it. The folks at Oxford Floral already know if our daughter will be a Tri Delt or an Alpha Delt. Yet I have no idea. The suspense is killing me.
The sound of a text message dings from the bottom of my purse. After rifling through the clutter I finally get my hands on my phone, but when I do I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. Suppose it’s a last-minute Rush catastrophe? Squeezing one eye shut I peek at the screen, then exhale when I see: Haynes. I sit back down on the bed and touch the message icon.
Red Alert. Your mother is “surprising” you today. She wants to meet “the Whitmore girl” and her parents. Knew you’d rather know.
Just when I was starting to feel better. I groan and type back: Thanks for the warning. I thought you abolished “Whitmore” from your vocabulary?
Right away he texts back: I have. But I made an exception. Saving you from sudden-death-by-surprise was more important.
Me: Thanks for the save.
Haynes: My pleasure. It was the least I could do.
Me: Why don’t you come with her?
Haynes: We have a toilet that needs fixing.
Me: Lucky you.
Haynes: I love you.
Me: I love you more.
Haynes: Impossible.
Closing my eyes, I bathe—actually, I saturate myself—in the warmth of Haynes Woodcock.
I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on him. It was our freshman year—the Alpha Delt, Sigma Nu pledge swap. Back then, the membership chairmen—one from the sorority and one from the fraternity—got together and paired up the pledges ahead of time. We could put in requests if we had seen a cute boy we wanted for a date, but most of the time everyone went potluck.
We’d all be crammed in the foyer of the Alpha Delt House. The membership chairmen would call out two names and the pledges would meet in the middle. Then all the actives and remaining pledges whooped and hollered when the two, mortified and flustered, paraded out the front door.
Haynes was standing dead center of the Sigma Nu pledges. His thick, collar length, sandy blond hair flipped up on the ends, and even from where I stood I noticed his double row of dark eyelashes underneath thick sandy eyebrows.
The light from his eyes—so blue they looked like aquamarines—and the way he smiled, bobbing his head in response to whatever it was his fraternity brothers were saying, caught my eye. I watched him, and him only, praying we would be matched together, until he and Emily Kay floated out the front door arm in arm.
Later at the Sigma Nu House, after looking all over, I finally spotted them at the keg refilling their cups. There seemed to be an electrical current, a force beyond my control, pulling me toward him like a magnet, so I left my date and glided over.
After watching me standing there like an idiot with a pleading look in my eyes, Emily finally introduced us. “Wilda, meet Haynes Woodcock.”
“Haynes who?” I had obviously missed that ever-so-important detail back at the House.
“Woodcock,” he said, with a playful grin. Then he whispered in my ear. “Whatever you do, no rooster wisecracks. Only penis jokes allowed.”
I laughed at his joke, probably harder than I should have. Standing next to him made me giddy and nervous. Then the reality of his last name hit me with a crushing blow. “Have you ever thought about changing it?” I heard myself saying. Because at that point I was already down the road—down the aisle, rather—and the voice inside my head was screaming: No! You can’t be Wilda Woodcock!
“When I was young. Then I got over it.”
Once I realized what I had done, my face turned fifty shades of red. Who says something like that? And to a cute guy? No matter how bad his name is.
“Mind if I call you Wildebeest?”
Every guy I’d ever known from junior high to high school had called me Wildebeest. Disappointed, but grateful to still be chatting with him, I said, “Sure. But I should warn you, my horns are sharp and they can really hurt if you’re not careful.”
Then he laughed out loud. “I’m not afraid of a stinking Wildebeest,” he said, with his chin in the air.
“Good. Then we should get along famously.”
“Woodcock and Wildebeest. Now there’s a duo for you.”
I wanted to say, right then and there: I know. I’ve already thought of that, but if I marry you, I become Wilda Woodcock. And I have spent my entire life mad at my mother for naming me Wilda in the first place. But instead I said, “Actually, it should be Wildebeest and Woodcock. ‘I’ comes before ‘O’.”
“Fair enough. Wildebeest and Woodcock.” We looked up and Emily was gone. From then on we really were Wildebeest and Woodcock. He must have seen something way more wonderful and attractive than a real wildebeest, which is one of the most unsightly animals God has ever created, with a hunchback and a long-faced head with ears sticking out at right angles. And I ask myself why my self-confidence was in the toilet?
A few years later, when our partnership became official, Emily, who became one of my best friends and bridesmaids, told that story at our rehearsal dinner.
Six months earlier, I had been sitting at our breakfast room table when I told Mama I wanted to marry Haynes Woodcock. She took a dainty sip from her Herend china teacup and placed it slowly back down on the saucer with a light clink, her pinky high in the air. Sitting straight as a pencil, all the while staring out our bay window, she drummed her fingers against the teacup. “Wil-da Woodcock,” she said slowly, overenunciating each syllable. “In-ter-es-ting.”
I jumped o
ut of my chair, threw my arms overhead. “Why are you making this worse? You gave Mary your mother’s name and I was your first girl. You could have given me a normal name, too. But nooo, you had to name me after a college roommate whom you’ve hardly seen since!”
“Why, Wilda is a lovely, old-fashioned name. But Woodcock.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “How unfohtunate.”
I stormed off to my room and we’ve never brought it up since. Despite that, and a host of other dramatic to-dos along the way, I still named Ellie after Mama. Even though Haynes wanted to name her Wilda. Love for our parents is deeper and more primal than any of us realizes, I suppose, despite the measure of childhood trauma. Haynes has spent the last thirty-four years telling me how beautiful I am, and how beautiful my name is.
Some days I actually believe him.
Years later Haynes told me that no one had ever asked him before if he wanted to change his name. But I’m convinced that question, no matter how cringeworthy, is the reason I’m Mrs. Haynes Woodcock today. And right now, after the week I’ve had, getting home to my husband is all I can think about.
FORTY-TWO
MISS PEARL
Miss Lilith is the only one in the present room when I walk past. She doesn’t notice me, so I stand off to the side and watch her maneuver around the baskets, fingering each and reading the gift tags. Every now and then she’ll take a second to smell one of the rose bouquets, but it seems she’s more interested in checking out the sender.
She reminds me of my ex-mother-in-law. Always sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. When she happens to look up we lock eyes. She stiffens, stands up straight as a nutcracker, like she’s been caught with her hand in that ol’ cookie jar. The chain on that Alpha Delt pin she always wears on the end of her breast is still jiggling.
“Good morning, Miss Lilith,” I say from the door. “Looks like Santa’s workshop in here.”
“That it does.” She bends right back down, checks another gift tag. “I’m looking for the gifts Gage and I sent Annie Laurie. Making sure they’re all here. I’m not supposed to know she’s a new member. But I have my sources. How are you, Pearl?” she asks, stepping carefully between baskets.
I move on into the room, find a clear spot on the floor to stand. “Doing fine. Doing real fine. And what about yourself?”
“Couldn’t be better. I’ve been waiting eighteen years on this day.”
Mama Carla is exactly right. This lady is as happy as a rabbit in a two-acre garden.
“Annie Laurie will love it here,” I tell her. “I remember you asking me to look after her back in August. Do you remember that?”
From a squatting position, she finally takes a moment to look at me. “If I recall we were standing right outside of this room. I had just bonked your poor nose.”
Whacked is more like it. “Sure were. And I remember you telling me you would like me to be her third mother.”
“Yes, and I’m hoping you’re still up for the challenge.” She stands up straight, puts a hand to the small of her back. “As her daddy likes to say, ‘our girl can be high-maintenance.’”
“That’s exactly what I want to talk with you about, Miss Lilith. I’d like to use this opportunity to tell you I’d like to take Mama Carla’s place as housemother. That way I can really look after her.”
She plays like she didn’t hear me, going back to searching through the gifts. But I know she did.
“Miss Lilith? Did you hear what I said?”
She looks up. “I heard you say something about Carla. In the future, however, I would prefer to be called Mrs. Whitmore.”
Here we go. I best buckle up. “I said I’d like to apply for the House Director’s job—Mrs. Whitmore.”
She doesn’t respond. As I’m about to repeat myself a third time she does. “Pearl. You are such a dear to want to take that on. But you haven’t been to college.” Her tone is pleasant, but there’s a distinct air to it.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been to college.”
That woman’s head turns around so fast she may have to be treated for whiplash. “You’ve been to college?”
“Sure have.”
“Here? At the University?”
“Yes, ma’am. I attended for a year.”
She puts a hand to her heart. “You attended?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So you didn’t graduate?”
“Not yet. But I’ve decided to go back and earn my degree.” I smile when I say it. I’m proud of myself.
She tsks, loudly. “I’m sorry, but the House Director is required to have a college degree.”
“It won’t take me long. I’m a good student, Miss Lil—Mrs. Whitmore. My plan is to take online classes at night. And work school around my schedule here.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Our Alpha Delt bylaws clearly state that the House Director must have a college degree.” It doesn’t take a dummy to read what’s written all over this lady’s face. Relief.
But that’s not going to stop me. “I can promise you I would be an excellent House Director. I love these girls like they’re my own daughters. I already know the job backward and forward. Mama Carla said it herself.” As soon as those words leave my lips I know I’ve said the wrong thing.
One hand flies to her hip, another taps her thigh. She lowers her chin. “Carla has been talking with you about this?”
“We briefly discussed it when I told her I wanted to apply.”
“I see.” Her big eyes blink rapidly. “It’s not her place to discuss her position with anyone. I’m the House Corp President.” She taps her chest. “I do the hiring.”
Aunt Fee’s warning to be careful of Lilith Whitmore is echoing inside my mind. It’s like she had a pair of binoculars into the future with a setting labeled: Pearl, Beware. “Mama Carla didn’t mean any harm.”
“I’m sure she didn’t, but I’ll have to remind her to let me handle this in the future. I best go tell her that right now.”
“But—”
That lady moves right past me, pushes the door open with the palm of her hand, then blasts out of the study lounge, straight through the dining room toward Mama Carla’s apartment.
I let about thirty seconds pass, then head on out myself. What I need is some time to think things through. This did not go anywhere close to the way I planned. If I can just make it to my closet without anyone stopping me, I can get some time to myself. Between Aunt Fee’s illness, and now Miss Lilith’s reaction to my application, I am second-guessing everything.
On my way there, I notice an older couple walking in through the front door. The lady’s arm is hooked through the gentleman’s. They stop in front of Miss Lilith. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but something tells me to change course and head that way, see if I can be of help.
Just as I’m within earshot I hear Miss Lilith say, “I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place. Cali Watkins is not on our bid list. You should check across the street at the Chi Theta House. Why, they are a perfect fit.”
FORTY-THREE
WILDA
Her fresh-out-of-the-beauty parlor Jackie O. hairdo is sticking out in the crowd like a penguin in a desert. She’s got a high tease on top and the bottom flips up, three inches off her shoulders. I keep telling her to just go gray, but she insists on a dark dye job despite her age. Somebody, somewhere, once told her she favored Jackie Kennedy, so she’s worn her hair like that ever since.
“Mama!” I let my mouth fall open and fly a hand to my chest.
“Surprise.”
“What are you doing here?” We hug, but as always I’m careful not to muss up her hair. I’ve been warned since I was a little girl.
“Surely you didn’t think I would let this special day in my granddaughter’s life go by without me.” She’s standing amidst a zillion people in the Alpha Delt front yard, all waiting the arrival of our new pledge class.
“How silly of me,” I say with feigned regret. “It i
s a bit of a drive, though.”
“For pity’s sake, Wilda, it’s not but an hour and a half. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Instead of looking at me she’s craning her neck around the yard, inspecting the crowd like she’s searching for a puzzle piece. “Where is Lilith Whitmoah? I haven’t seen her yet.”
“You don’t even know what she looks like, Mama.”
“Of course I know what she looks like. We’re Facebook friends.”
“Of course you are,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.” It’s not the right time, but I plan to tell Mama every detail of Lilith’s indiscretion.
When I turn to search for her myself I happen to spot my real surprise, standing next to a photo booth, waving like an imp. I gasp. Then I practically mow Mama down to get to him.
“You stinker!” I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze him harder than I have in years. Haynes and I haven’t been apart this long since he went to a legal conference in Indianapolis after we were first married. “I thought you had to fix our toilet.”
“Come on. Our little girl is joining an Ole Miss sorority today.” He looks so dang luscious to me dressed in his khakis, a blue button-up, and a navy fleece vest. I’ve missed him so.
When I let go, Mama is right next to us, eavesdropping. “My darling son-in-law drove me heah. He is such a fine gentleman.” She scans Haynes head to toe. “And looking so handsome today.” I’ve not heard her speak his praises this much—ever.
“When will we know about Ellie?” Haynes asks me, stepping aside to let three active members with painted faces, dressed in frilly costumes and wigs, pass by.
“Not until she opens her bid card. Maybe you should go to the Grove and video her when she opens it. Then call me and let me know which one she gets.”
“Then you can video her here or at Tri Delt. Got it.” He nods, slides his hands in his pockets.
“What about me?” Mama asks.
“You stay here with your daughter. I’ll be running back from the Grove.”
