Rush

by Lisa Patton

  Lilith turns around. From where I’m standing, only fifteen feet away—safely behind Haynes—our eyes happen to meet. For a second I’m afraid, thinking she might clock me, but instead her eyelids drop sadly. When she opens them again, I get the sense she’s trying to tell me something. Could it be an apology? There’s pleading in her eyes. I consider going over to her but, before I can make up my mind, she motions for Gage. Ever the doting husband, he extends his elbow.

  “Here comes Miss Pearl!” Selma shouts through her microphone. “I see her car. Everyone get in position.”

  Lilith glances briefly over her shoulder before hooking an arm inside her husband’s. Haynes and I watch as Lilith and Gage Whitmore slip namelessly back into the crowd.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  MISS PEARL

  I told myself all day yesterday there was no need for a going-away party. That it would be too sad and I couldn’t keep myself from crying every time I looked into the face of one of my babies. But when Selma called and asked me to please reconsider, I felt like I had to at least think about it.

  She sounded so sad. Said all the girls wanted to do something nice for me. After twenty-five years of loyal service, they felt like a going-away party was the least they could do. She said everyone understood why I was leaving, and that they supported me one thousand percent, but they still wanted to be with me one last time … as a family.

  Mama Carla is the one who finally talked me into it. We’ve talked almost every day now since I walked out. When I left the University employment office, she was the first person I called. I told her every last word that she-devil had said to me. She cried when I told her I had worked my last day, and that I wasn’t coming back. I heard the first crack in her voice and that made me break down, too. I was already in my car headed home when she asked me to please come back to the House so she could hold me in her arms, but I told her I couldn’t do it. Especially with Miss Lilith there. Seeing that woman is not something I ever want to do again.

  Now here I am, on an away-game Saturday afternoon, headed to the House. Not as a staff member, but as a guest at my own party. Selma assured me Lilith Whitmore would not be here. How she’ll keep her away is anybody’s guess, but Selma swears it’s true.

  I took the same route I’ve driven a thousand times. From Highway 6, I veered left onto Jackson Avenue. Instead of parking a quarter mile away in the satellite parking lot, Selma had told me to go ahead and take a right on Sorority Row. “I have a space right out front reserved especially for you today, Miss Pearl.”

  The only thing different about this drive is I’m not wearing my navy blue scrubs. I picked out my favorite pair of black pants and a pretty long white sweater—the one that accentuates my Mississippi pearl necklace.

  The instant I turn down Sorority Row I see all kinds of commotion going on near Lenoir Hall. Folks have spilled out in the street, like it’s Bid Day. I’m having to drive extra slow to avoid hitting someone. Every time I try to accelerate I have to brake again. All kinds of folks out here. Not only sorority girls, I see plenty of boys, too. Black students, white students, teachers. Must be a few thousand people here today.

  Seems like there’s a large white truck with a satellite dish ahead, parked near the Alpha Delt House. As I get closer I can see it’s a news van. WMC Channel 5 from Memphis is all the way down here in Oxford? And WTVA in Tupelo has a van in front of the Tri Delt house? There are even two University police cars with lights on, blocking the street. What in the world is going on around here?

  When I finally make it past Lenoir Hall, I see the Alpha Delts dressed in their pretty black dresses, lined up in front of the House the way they do for Pref. Some are on either side of the walkway. Others are on the front porch. More lined up on the balcony. The entire yard is full of my sweet babies.

  Now that I’m closer I can see all of them wearing big white buttons on their dresses, with black letters. I can’t read what they say, but when I get a few yards from the House I see they match two banners, the size of Texas, hanging from the upstairs balcony. I gasp; feel the blood draining from my face. Before God, one says, GIVE US OUR MISS PEARL! The other, hanging right next to it, says: OR WE QUIT!

  Wha … What is happening here today? Oh Lord. My heart is racing so fast I feel faint. I place my hand on my chest, trying to get it to slow down, then I drive forward a few more feet. There’s Selma. She’s motioning for me to park. Standing on the curb in front of a space with a sign that reads: RESERVED FOR PEARL JOHNSON. I pull on up a little past her, then put my car in reverse. Parallel parking has never been my strong suit, especially with my nerves jumping all over this car, but I manage to squeeze my Honda in somehow.

  Now Selma has her hand out to open my door. The second it opens I hear their voices. Soft and steady, like a choir of angels, filling the air with a song they sing on Pref. About pearls and roses. I don’t know every word, but after twenty-five years I’m very familiar with the song. When I step out of my car, and turn around to face the House, I see what seems like all 438 of my Alpha Delt babies, with their hands outstretched, singing and smiling right at me. Before I have a chance to put my foot on the curb, a young black man sticks a microphone under my chin.

  “What’s your reaction to this altruistic show of support from the Alpha Delta Beta sorority sisters?”

  I’m so choked up I can barely speak. But I manage to say, “I thought I was coming to my going-away party. I had no idea they were doing this until now.” I’m talking to him, but my eyes are pinned on the girls.

  “Do you feel discriminated against?” he asks. I guess my babies filled him in on what’s been going on around here.

  Sarah Mason, who is standing a few feet away, catches my eye. That baby loves me like a second mother. “Not by them, no, sir.”

  “Then from whom do you feel discrimination?”

  “Sir, sir,” Selma says, placing her hand out to stop him. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk to Miss Pearl. Right now we want her to enjoy her moment. Please.”

  She guides me away from the reporter and up the front steps to the long walkway. With each step I take, girls reach out to touch me. I feel the love radiating from their fingers to mine. Can this be happening? Have they actually threatened to quit Alpha Delt? For me? I walk slowly up to the House, the way I’ve done a thousand times, and each girl turns as I pass by. When I step onto the front porch, I happen to glance to my left. Well, there’s Annie Laurie Whitmore. Something told me she wouldn’t be here today. Yet here she is with her hand outstretched, singing with the rest of the sisters.

  Mama Carla is waiting for me when I make it inside the door. Right behind her are Mr. Marvelle, Helen, Latonya, Bernie, and Kadeesha. I’m overflowing with emotion; my entire face is covered in tears.

  Someone taps me on the shoulder. When I turn around, I see Cali with her arms open wide. I knew there was something special about that sweet little redheaded girl.

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  CALI

  The last twenty-four hours have been the best hours of my life. Yes, we totally surprised Miss Pearl, and she was blown away with the amount of love and support she received from all the Alpha Delts, and how we were willing to walk out of the sorority on her behalf, but equally as good—shock of all shocks—Annie Laurie has made a turnaround. Now she’s one of us.

  It must have started the night I confronted her. When Selma called the emergency chapter meeting and Annie Laurie was excused, things really turned around. At first she acted like her normal self—all haughty like she couldn’t have cared less. She would hardly look at Ellie when she left for the meeting. All that had changed by the time Ellie and I got back from the House. When I opened the door to my room and saw her propped up next to Jasmine—on Jasmine’s bed—Ellie and I had to do major double takes. Especially when we noticed her eyes were red and swollen.

  “Hello, ladies,” Jasmine said when we walked in. “I’d like for you to meet our new friend, Annie Laurie Whitmore.” I was sure Ellie was
thinking the same thing. What the hell is going on around here?

  Annie Laurie slid off the bed, fresh tears in her eyes, and slunk over to us. She hung her head and wrung her hands before muttering, “I never meant to be so ugly to y’all. Especially you, Cali. I’m sure y’all hate my guts.” She couldn’t meet our eyes. Instead she looked back at Jasmine for help.

  Despite the way Annie Laurie had treated her since we moved in, Jasmine came to her rescue. She crawled right off the bed and wrapped her arm snugly around Annie Laurie’s shoulder. “Our friend here has been embarrassed about her mother for a long time, but she hasn’t wanted to admit it. She’s not sure what to do about it, either.” They looked at each other like total BFFs before Jasmine added, “Now she’s embarrassed to ever show her face at y’all’s sorority house again.”

  The way Annie Laurie struggled to lift her chin was painful to watch, but she finally made eye contact with us. Fresh tears had flooded her eyes. “It was awful being here, knowing all my sorority sisters were meeting at the House … because of something my mom did. This time she’s gone too far. I don’t know everything she said to Miss Pearl, but I don’t have to. I know my mother.”

  Tucking her hair behind her ears, she gazed at us with an emotion I know all too well—shame. She used her fingers to twist her bottom lip out of shape, as if she wasn’t sure how much more to confess. “She wasn’t like that when I was little. Well, if she was I never noticed it. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop. Ever since that night I got mad at y’all for going against her. She has a problem, y’all. So does my dad.” She turned to Ellie and shrugged. “They aren’t like your parents.”

  Although she was at a loss for words, Ellie still gave her an understanding nod.

  Our new friend, as Jasmine called her, sniffled several times from all the crying she’d been doing, so I took a tissue from my desk and handed it to her. Once I did, a look of conviction replaced the apprehension she’d shown moments earlier. “They are racists. There’s no way around it. And my mom is rude to people who don’t come from wealthy backgrounds. She thinks she’s better than they are. Honestly, for a while I thought that, too. But we’re not. And my mom … She is a total embarrassment.”

  I wanted to make sure I said the right thing. First I glanced at Jasmine, who responded with a slight nod, as if to say: Go ahead. It’s okay. So I took Annie Laurie by the hand. “I get embarrassment. I get it in a big way. Most of my life has been spent embarrassed by my mom.” She already knew the basics from her mother’s nosy digging into my past—I was sure of it—so there was no need to go into more gory details. But that was the icebreaker. She reached out to hug me, and when she did something inside of me cracked wide open and I cried, too. As mad as I am at my mom, I actually felt sorry for her in that moment. We all stayed up till two in the morning letting Annie Laurie talk about her mom. She is furious. When or if that will change is anyone’s guess.

  Ever since that night, Annie Laurie has been a real friend. She loaned me her totally awesome short black dress to wear to Miss Pearl’s going-away party. Once she saw the way it looked on me she even said I could have it. I know people don’t usually flip a 180 that fast, but I think Annie Laurie has been in more pain over her mother than she’s ever let on. Kind of like me.

  The night we all stayed up late made me realize we all have issues we’d rather not face. Everyone has her share of rotten fruit. Even Annie Laurie, a girl with all the money and all the looks in the world, is totally embarrassed by her mother. And she’s been hiding that secret—only God knows how long. Granted, she hasn’t handled it very well, but have I?

  Ellie’s grandmother drives her stark raving crazy and Jasmine’s older brother, I learned a few nights later when we stayed up talking till four in the morning, is HIV positive. The gossipmongers in Martin have uncovered dirt on Bailey. Her father is rumored to have embezzled money from his company and may go to jail. Sweet Tara, at the end of our hall, has an alcoholic father. When I think about throwing everyone’s dirty secrets and problems into a pile, maybe I’ll still pick mine. I have the greatest grandparents who ever lived and they love me deeply. God gave me a brain that ensures I never have to worry about my grades. Who knows? Perhaps I inherited it from the dad I never knew.

  I have the power to be anyone. Shame over my past doesn’t have to dictate who I am or, more importantly, who I’ll become. I, California Ann Watkins, from itty-bitty Blue Mountain, Mississippi, have the power to be governor of our beautiful Magnolia State, even if I am five foot two.

  Thinking like this, I have to admit, is a big relief. But our pressing dilemma, the one constricting my heart, is still unresolved. Now that we’ve taken a stand and shown we’re willing to walk out of our sorority, will Miss Pearl be able to return as House Director of Alpha Delta Beta? Or will Lilith Whitmore have the final word?

  SIXTY-NINE

  WILDA

  Four weeks later

  I decided to temporarily disconnect our home phone and change my cell phone number. Once the protest story broke on the national news, I became a celebrity. It seemed like every person I’d ever known—at least those who knew I was an Ole Miss Alpha Delt—“blew me up,” as Ellie would say, dying for the inside scoop.

  But as an Alpha Delta Omega, I’m sworn to secrecy. I can’t publicize our dirty laundry, no matter how I feel about Lilith Whitmore. I’m terrible at telling people no, so the only way to handle it was to go off-grid. I may have come a long way in the last few weeks, but I’m still in the “work in progress” category.

  The day after the protest, an emergency House Corp Board meeting was called. Something had to be done, and it had to be done fast. All but four of our girls were willing to walk out of the sorority on Miss Pearl’s behalf. The eight others, who had also voted no in the chapter meeting, ended up changing their minds and supporting Miss Pearl. We had to make a decision about the college degree requirement and offer Miss Pearl the job—or not.

  All of the House Corp Board members drove in, that Monday after the protest, from all over the state. Although we were merely Rush Advisors without a vote, Sallie, Gwen, and I were invited to the meeting also, and so was Selma James. Because of our commitment to Alpha Delt, they valued our opinions and felt we should, at the very least, be included in the discussions. Now, looking back on it, I should have stayed home. I’d give anything to not know what I know. And I wouldn’t have had to change my phone number.

  We convened at the Inn at Ole Miss for a clandestine conference—sans Lilith—in a small meeting room. Our National Alpha Delt president even called in to the meeting and was put on speakerphone as we discussed our fate. Someone had the great idea to have lunch catered in from Volta, a favored Oxford restaurant, and it saved the day. For me, anyway.

  The first order of business was to address whether or not Lilith should remain as House Corp President. Even with the way she had handled everything, including her switcheroo of the Rush ballot—which no one can prove—it was still tricky business. Lilith is a volunteer. But every single House Corp Board member voted unanimously to ask for her letter of resignation. When one of the board members turned to me and suggested I break the news to her since we were close friends, I almost had to change my underwear. “Who, me?” I gasped, with a hand on my heart.

  Sallie saved me with her laugh, then added, “Unless you want to pay Wilda’s cardiac arrest hospital bill, y’all best let someone else do it.”

  Lilith’s been stripped of her crowning glory, but she gets to keep her pin. Haynes, believe it or not, doesn’t give her all the blame. He includes the entire Greek system.

  He explained it this way: Any time an injustice is going on, more than one person knows about it. It doesn’t matter if it’s a sorority or a fraternity, a corporation, a media outlet, or even a law practice. People in charge know what’s going on, but they choose to keep the status quo. It’s more convenient that way. But when something of this nature comes to light, like our girls protesting against the wa
y Miss Pearl was treated and the lack of staff benefits, all of a sudden it becomes public and paints the organization in an unfavorable light. He says someone has to take the fall, and this time it’s Lilith. He’s not saying she doesn’t deserve to be ousted—he believes that wholeheartedly—but he believes the system is also to blame.

  As for me, I think the whole thing is a tremendous oversight. Haynes, bless his heart, is bent toward cynicism.

  Call me extra crazy, but I feel sorry for Lilith now. Her own daughter wants nothing to do with her. To say her friends have dropped her like a hot potato is putting it mildly. They’ve put her in the “rotten, slimy potato” category. It seems like the entire state of Mississippi is talking bad about her. When Fran from the board called to tell her she’d been asked to step down, Lilith said she’d never step foot in the Alpha Delt house again.

  Surely a nice person lives in there somewhere. Surely she’s not inherently mean. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought these last four weeks, and I’ve decided she’s a wounded, tortured soul. Something must have happened to her in childhood or another time along the way. Childhood wounded me, but I tend to take it out on myself more than I do others. And for God’s sake, I’m the last person who needs to be judging another person’s mistakes.

  Here’s the kicker: Once the decision was made, the board members tried talking me into taking over Lilith’s position. I politely declined, but somehow agreed to serve on an interim basis until a permanent replacement can be found—someone like Lilith with tons of free time. The ten grand I owe Mama certainly won’t get repaid with volunteer hours.

  I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, but I knew I should have resigned from the Advisory Board when I had the chance.