by Lisa Patton
“Surely you don’t believe that makes much of a difference for them, do you?”
Instead of her signature smirk, she gives a slight shrug with an uncertain gaze.
“You should want to help the Alpha Delts make a difference. You’re a part of the sisterhood.”
Now she’s staring at the floor.
“Do you know why everyone in our sorority wants this change?”
She doesn’t answer, but I sense she’s paying attention.
“Because it’s flat-out wrong. You say your mom has Alpha Delt’s best interests at heart? If that’s true, then you tell me what’s good about paying our staff less than we get for babysitting jobs. Especially when they’re the ones doing work most of us wouldn’t be caught dead doing. Like cleaning all those toilets.”
Her breath catches.
“It seems to all of us in this room”—I turn around to look at my friends—“and I’m betting most every sorority girl and fraternity boy on this campus would agree … providing benefits for the staff is well worth the fifteen-dollar-a-month sacrifice.”
“Amen,” Hannah says behind me.
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Tara adds.
“Look. I know it’s hard to go against your mother, but you don’t have to be like her. Trust me. I know that firsthand.” I shift a quick glance toward Ellie. “Wouldn’t it be the right thing to make sure that when the people on our staff retire they have a few extra dollars to live on?” My voice softens. Now I’m pleading with her. “We should be the kind of sorority that goes the extra mile for people. We should be the kind of sorority that makes sure the people who work for us don’t have to sit up all night worrying about how they’ll feed their children or how to keep their lights on. We should be the kind of sorority that places a high value on those sweet people. That, Annie Laurie, is what it means to have Alpha Delt’s best interests at heart.”
My heart is beating super fast. Saying all this to her has taken every bit of courage I can muster. I’m trying to psych myself up for whatever nasty comment she’s about to regurgitate, but the truth is I don’t care what she says to me anymore. I know I’m right.
Instead of slinging another of her normal mud-coated remarks, Annie Laurie bursts into tears. Hands fly up, covering her face. It’s not at all what I expected. I glance at the others to see what they’re thinking, and their mouths are pretty much hanging open, too.
“Y’all don’t understand,” Annie Laurie says through genuine tears. “You have no idea what it’s like to … She’s not … My mom might not think the way y’all do, but I have Alpha Delt’s best interests at heart. I love my sorority.” Her eyes plead with us, like she’s sorry, but instead of saying so she turns and runs off toward her room, leaving us all with our eyes popping out of our skulls. For a long, stretched-out moment everyone stays perfectly still. Then we hear a door slamming shut.
“That was so random,” Tara whispers. “I never saw that coming.”
We all look at Ellie, who holds her palms up. “Don’t look at me! I don’t know what’s in that head of hers.”
“Maybe you got to her, Cali,” Jasmine says.
I stumble back in shock as my friends look at me in admiration.
“You were awesome,” Bailey says.
“No joke. I’m so proud of you right now,” Ellie says, hugging me from behind.
Bailey grips her forehead. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong with her?”
Tara moves off the futon and peeks out the door. We watch her check both ways, then shut the door softly and turn back around. “Maybe there’s something bad wrong with Annie Laurie’s family? There’s got to be a reason she’s like that.”
It crosses my mind that she’s like that because of the way she’s been raised—her mother’s influence. My grandparents raised me. What if my mother had stuck around? Would I be different? Would I be on drugs? “It’s because she lives in a house with a mean mother. It’s her mother’s influence; that’s why she’s like that.”
“I’ve never met the woman, but”—Hannah exhales loudly—“she sounds like the bitch from hell.”
“I met her the day we moved in,” Jasmine says. “She’s wound up tight. Very into herself and the way things look.”
“That’s an understatement,” Ellie says. “Considering all that woman has done, Cali was nice. Y’all wouldn’t believe the half of it.”
“Like what?” Bailey is wide-eyed, eager for some good scoop.
Ellie shakes her head. “I don’t want to stoop to her level, but she’s, like, scary mean.”
“So what started all this?” Hannah asks. “What’s this about y’all going against her mother’s wishes?”
Ellie rolls her eyes. “Her mom forbade us to take this project on. She said we’d never be able to get Eli Manning here. But my dad made it happen. He says she can’t do anything to stop us if all the members are behind it. And we are.”
“All but one,” Jasmine says. “But you may have changed that, Cali. She wouldn’t have been crying like that if something you said hadn’t put a crack in her armor.”
“How did she get into Alpha Delt, anyway?” Claudia asks. “I’m not trying to be mean, but, what the—”
“Duh.” Ellie blurts, flashing a tight-lipped smile. She throws her hands in the air. “How do you think?”
I see what they mean, but after tonight I see another side of Annie Laurie. Our situations may be different, but we’re both wounded. Wounded by the person who is supposed to love us the most.
SIXTY
MISS PEARL
The kitchen is as quiet as a whisper when I walk in the back door sometime around eleven o’clock in the morning. There’s no music, and there’s sure no singing. Mr. Marvelle is in the pantry on top of the ladder, Helen is chopping onions—I can smell them from the time clock—and Kadeesha has her hands in the sink. I have to wonder if it will ever be the same around here.
“Good morning,” I say, trying my best to be upbeat. Latonya is at the helm now and there’s a new kitchen aide working next to her. Once I punch my card I head her way. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Pearl.”
“No we haven’t. I’m Bernice, Latonya’s sister. Happy to meet you, Pearl.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Mind if I call you Bernie?”
“Go ahead on. Most my friends do.”
Latonya waves like she’s happy to see me, but that Kadeesha stares me up and down like I’ve done her wrong. I don’t have the time or energy for your lip, I’d love to say, but I keep my mouth shut. She’s not an early bird, and she’s been taking up the slack ever since I’ve been gone.
I go on about my business, tidying up around the coffeepot, making sure the snacks in the buffet area are stocked. Once I get back into the kitchen I ask Kadeesha if she wants me to take over for her, but she tells me no. So I head on out, past the dining room, down the hall to Mama Carla’s apartment. Her door is wide open. I poke my head in and see her on the phone. Trudy jumps off the chair and runs right up to me for a pet. Squatting down, I rub her on the head, then down her back.
Mama Carla holds up a finger and mouths, “One minute.”
I nod and wait outside the door, in case she needs privacy.
Exactly one minute later she pokes her head out. “You could have come in. I don’t have anything to hide from you, my friend.”
“Same here.” I take my usual spot in the chair next to hers. “You know almost everything about me.”
“Almost everything?”
“A girl has to keep a few things to herself. I’m sure you’ve got some secrets, too, Mama Carla. And don’t you say you’re too old for secrets.”
“Well, I am old, but yes, I do have my share of private fantasies.”
We both laugh. I settle back into the familiar chair, thinking back to when I’d filled in for her. When I was queen for the weekend. “It’s good to be back.”
“We’ve missed you around here. How are things going?”
“As well as c
an be expected, I suppose. I knew I’d miss her, but it’s harder than I thought. That ol’ stubborn woman. I could wring her neck.”
A smile sneaks up on Mama Carla’s lips.
“But it’s too late now,” I say. Then we have us a good laugh. At the stubborn woman’s expense. My anger has waned in the last few days. Now I’m just dealing with the unbearable pain of missing her sweet face.
Once we’ve calmed down, Mama Carla says, “You probably haven’t had a chance to enroll in school yet, have you?”
“Not yet. But after what Mrs. Whitmore said, I’m more convinced than ever I need to do it.”
Mama Carla leans in toward me. “Mrs. Whitmore?”
“I thought I told you. She said I can’t call her Miss Lilith anymore.”
“What?”
“Didn’t I fill you in on that conversation we had? When I told her I wanted to apply for your job?”
“Bid Day was so hectic with Miss Ophelia out sick; we didn’t get a chance to talk.” She pulls her legs up underneath her. “But she told me. Asked me to keep my opinions about my successor to myself. I’m so sorry, Pearl. I feel responsible for putting you in this position. I thought it was a no-brainer. I still do.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.” I go ahead and tell her what’s been on my mind. “When I looked out and saw her seated next to you at Fee’s service, a thought crossed my mind. Maybe she’s had a change of heart?”
Mama Carla snickers. “I think the roof would have to cave in on this House for that to happen. But I suppose anything’s possible.”
“Even so, I’ve decided to bring it up to her one more time.” I’ve been mulling this over every day now since Fee died. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t give it one more shot. If Mrs. Whitmore still tells me no I’ll move on, but I’ll go down trying.
“I think you should,” Mama Carla says, patting her thighs. “Just prepare yourself. I’d hate for you to be disappointed again.”
“Mama Carla. I’m a strong woman. Don’t you know that by now?” I laugh and think about how strong I am in all kinds of ways. Except my emotions over Aunt Fee dying. In that I’ve been anything but strong.
“You know I do.”
“If that lady can’t see I’m the right person for the job, that’s her problem, but I owe it to myself to have one more conversation with her.”
“Absolutely you do. And I’m behind you one thousand percent.”
“For no other reason than progress. If I’m not qualified that’s one thing, but it’s not supposed to be about my skin color. That I know.”
Mama Carla agrees by vigorously nodding her head. “I know that, and I’m betting the girls do also. I don’t care if there’s not another African American House Director in the entire South; it’s high time that changed. Not only are you qualified; you’re a good fit. It’s as much about that as anything. Everyone already knows and loves you.”
“Thank you, Mama Carla. Do you know when she’ll be here in Oxford again?”
“Sometime today. She’s got an interview,” Mama Carla says with finger quotes.
“I guess today’s my day, then. When exactly are you leaving? Still thinking December?”
“If it weren’t for my grandchildren you know I’d finish out the school year.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “It’s terrible timing with Ophelia’s passing. I’m so sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. You’re doing the right thing.”
“I’m doing what’s right for me. Now you do the same. Lilith Whitmore has no idea who she’s up against.” She tilts her head back, chuckles.
“You know what Fee called her, don’t you?”
“No. Tell me.”
“The Whitless she-devil.”
Mama Carla’s eyes bug out of her head, then she splits, and I mean splits, in two. She gets to laughing so hard I think she may have a stroke. Her face turns as red and hot as a chili pepper. Watching her gets me going, then the two of us cackle like a couple of farm hens. She bends over, holding her stomach, then drops off the chair. I drop off mine, too, and we roll around on her carpet, so tickled we can’t breathe. I mean it. We laugh and laugh like it’s the last time we’ll ever do it. Until a certain sound takes away our fun. All we hear is someone clearing her throat, but we both know from whom it came.
Mama Carla and I look up from the floor and there that she-devil is, dressed fancier than I’ve ever seen her: An ivory-lace dress—showing off all her curves—and a light blue silk scarf tied loosely around her neck, little short booties on her feet. And there’s that pin again, dangling from her left bosom.
I resist the urge to scramble up off the floor, especially when I see Mama Carla taking her own sweet time.
“I hate to break up the party,” Mrs. Whitmore says. There’s a clipboard in one hand and the other is on her hip.
I put both hands on the chair and slowly pull myself up.
Mama Carla climbs back onto hers and Trudy, who usually welcomes everyone who stops by, jumps up next to Mama Carla, turns around on the edge of the chair with her curly tail pointed out straight, and growls.
“No party,” Mama Carla says with a hand squeezing Trudy’s mouth shut. “Miss Pearl just said a funny.”
“Oh? Do share.” Completely ignoring the growl, Miss Lilith tucks the clipboard in her armpit and claps her hands together. “I so love a funny.”
And the tension over Trudy, who is still growling even with her mouth shut, makes things even funnier. Before I have a stroke from thinking how we’re going to lie our way out of this mess, Mama Carla saves us. She sucks in her cheeks, then says, “Miss Ophelia’s hearse got lost on the way to the cemetery.” Then she tee-hees all over again, like it’s the gospel truth.
Now I’ve known folks who take life too seriously, but I’ve never met anyone who can’t grin when something even a little funny is said. This woman takes the cake. She gazes at us with a blank stare. Then says, “What’s so funny about that?”
I better not look at Mama Carla. Between Trudy’s growl, Miss Whitless’s face and the undeniable truth that she was born without a funny bone, that strikes me funnier than the reason we were laughing in the first place. Out of the corner of my eye, I happen to catch sight of Mama Carla’s shoulders shaking. I know I’m in trouble, so I excuse myself and run off to the ladies’ room.
When I get back Mrs. Whitmore is in my seat. I wait for a lull in the conversation then I look at her and with my nicest voice say, “While you’re here today, I’d like to sit down and talk with you when you get a chance.”
She glances at a poker-faced Mama Carla to gauge her reaction, then turns back to me. “Can you tell me what this is regarding?”
“No, ma’am. I’d rather wait.” I’m still smiling, but she’s not.
After another glance at Mama Carla, she says, “All right. How about two o’clock?”
“That would be fine. Where would you like to meet?” I ask.
“Downstairs in the chapter room.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”
*
I’m polishing the piano when I hear the grandfather clock in the receiving room strike one. Kadeesha’s on her way to Mama Carla’s apartment for her paycheck.
“Pssst. Can I talk to you a minute?” I call from the piano.
She stops, looks at me, then sashays over, smacking on Juicy Fruit. I can smell it as soon as she walks up. She studies the piano keys first, like she’d like to sit down and play, then looks at me.
“I’m sorry if my not being here these past two weeks has caused you trouble.”
Smack, smack, pop, pop. “Forget it. I’m all right.”
“I hate that you had to come in so early. I know you’re not an early bird.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.” I hadn’t anticipated this response. For the first time since she’s been working here, I don’t hear that haughty tone.
“Thank you for helping me o
ut,” I say.
“You’re welcome.” Now she’s smiling.
All of a sudden I feel connected to her. Maybe it’s the smile or the honey in her tone, but whatever it is, I lean closer. “Can I trust you, Kadeesha?”
She straightens. “Trust me? With what?” That ugly tone sneaks back in.
It’s enough to make me want to shut my mouth, but instead I forge on. “I’m just asking: Can I trust you?”
She shrugs, juts out her bottom lip. “Sure.”
“You know about Mama Carla leaving, right?”
She nods.
“I’m fixing to talk to Mrs. Whitmore about taking her job.”
Her eyes bug like she’s a little ol’ tree frog or something. She doesn’t open her mouth, just rolls that gum around. I honestly feel like she’s about to say: then I quit. But instead she says, “That’s good.”
“You mean it?”
“I got your back,” she says, then grins like she’s real happy for me.
“Girl. Thank you for that.”
Kadeesha turns, glances over her shoulder. “You’re welcome.” Then I watch her strut off toward Mama Carla’s apartment. But she reverses her stride and strolls right back to me with a much faster gait. “You mean you’re talking to Mrs. Shitmore, don’t you?” Kadeesha wiggles her thick eyebrows, then sucks in her cheeks, holds her head high, playing like she’s her.
Oh Lord, here I go again. Now it’s Kadeesha and me cackling. “You and Fee. You know what she called her, don’t you?”
Kadeesha nods. “Mmm-hmm. She used to say it all the time.”
I lay my rag down on the piano so as not to get oil on her shirt and hug her around the neck. It’s the first time the two of us have ever touched.
SIXTY-ONE
MISS PEARL
The chapter room door is closed when I arrive promptly at two o’clock. I’m not sure if there’s someone in there with her, but I go ahead on and knock. No one opens. So I stand outside the door twiddling my thumbs. The thought crosses my mind she may be standing me up, but then I hear a pair of high-heeled booties clicking down the hall in my direction.
