I guess it’s just another day in the sorority house.
****
They’re all the same, I’ve decided.
My ‘sisters.’
‘You have to come to the social! It’s all about keeping up the image!’
The image, the image, the image.
I lean against the bar and watch everything unfold in front of me. There’s a small, makeshift dance floor in the middle of this stifling club, pushed up against a long window that looks out on to the bar laden streets of Center City Philly. Throngs of drunken people walk by and watch as my sisters shake their barely covered asses in the window so that the whole world can see. Darby happens to be one of the leaders of the pack, throwing her arms above her head and waving her finger at any man that glances in her direction. She’s being drink and stupid. Surprise surprise.
The group shouts different, garbled lyrics at each other (because no one can decipher the actual words of the rap song) and dance in each other’s arms, using each other as support to stay upright. And when the hired photographer pushes his way into the group, they all wrap their arms around each other and flash both their cleavage and their blue-stained teeth for the camera.
What a great image. So many memories to be made here tonight.
I hate myself for being so bitter. These girls gave me a home, a family, when my own completely fell apart. They gave me gifts and invited me to every event they went to, always making sure that I felt accepted. Part of the whole. I felt so…loved. And now, I don’t know. Whenever I muster up the courage to go to the house for a meal, hardly anyone can even bother to say hello to me. I know that Darby has had something to do with all of this. But if I can barely be courageous enough to go and eat lunch, I’m surely not courageous enough to approach her. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
I order another blue liquor concoction from the bartender. He doesn’t even bother asking for an ID—they never do when there’s a sorority-wide event. I sip it too fast and my brain freezes. But I don’t care. I order another one. I’ve learned that being zonked out of my mind is a hell of a lot more fun that dealing with the constant wave of shit that goes on in my life.
I plunk down into the nearest booth as my brain spins. I’m so tired. I haven’t slept in days. I don’t even remember what it feels like to have a satisfying eight hours of peace and quiet anymore. I force my eyes to stay open and inspect the clusters of guys that are coming through the door. We were each supposed to invite two guys, but I can’t bring myself to remember whom it was that I picked. Truthfully, I really don’t give a fuck. I’m just here for the alcohol anyways.
I watch the sisters from a safe distance—watch as Darby throws her head back and cackles like a fairy tale witch, watch as she lets her hips move effortlessly to the beat of the music, watch as guys line up to try and get a chance to talk to her.
All I can do is watch.
I miss the first few months of sorority life. When people cared about getting to know me as a person. Or at least that’s what they pretended to care about. Now I just don’t belong anymore. I’m an alien. I can feel it.
And I have no idea how to get it all back.
I throw a shot of vodka down my throat. It burns like hell but suffocates the intense voltage in my muscles and wooziness and all-out mental confusion.
I’m numbed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a figure coming towards me with their arms outstretched. I feel myself get scooped up into a bear hug from behind and a huge smile spreads across my face.
It’s Chris—my presentation partner from Sociology. That’s right, I wrote down his name as my guest at the absolute last moment. I completely forgot. I honestly did not think he would show up to this thing. He does not seem like the kind of person who would show any remote interest in the Greek scene. He’s the epitome of a geek, complete with thick, black-rimmed glasses and a too-tight button up shirt. But he makes me smile. He’s the only person that’s made me smile in what feels like years. And the best thing about him is that he has absolutely zero interest in me. He doesn’t care about me as more than a classmate. Sure, we had dinner together in the cafeteria last week and he made an ice cream sundae for me while we worked on our joint project, but I never really expected him to care enough to show up.
But he did. And he’s smiling at me. Making me feel just a little bit more welcome on this planet.
Thank you Chris, you are truly a savior.
“Hey you, I’m guessing you’re the person who invited me to this thing?” he says as he pulls me in for a long, tight hug.
“Uh, yeah, that would be me. Thank you for coming.”
“Did you really think I would turn down an invitation from you?”
He reaches forward and runs the back of his fingers along the side of my face. I feel sick to my stomach over the fact that it actually makes my knees tremble ever so slightly.
I’m so fucking crazy.
“Would you like to take a trip to the bar with me? I think I’m going to need to be drunk to fully immerse myself in this sorority world,” he says, scanning his eyes over the debauchery all around the room. He offers his hand to me, and I let mine slip into it. He pulls me through the crowd, and I can feel all of the sister’s eyes analyzing us up and down as we make our way to the bar. They know instantly when someone non-Greek enters a traditionally sacred event, and they’re slowly surrounding him like vultures to a dying carcass. While he’s placing the drink order, I feel a finger poke in between my ribs.
“Who is this, Maura?”
I turn to my left and see Darby giving me a look of such concern, one would think I suddenly lost my sanity. Apparently, in the eyes of the sorority, I have.
“This is my friend, Chris. I invited him, so don’t worry, he didn’t just sneak into the party.”
“But I thought you invited Doyle,” she asks, moving in even closer. Her breath smells like coconut and rancid smoke. I can’t bring myself to look at her, but I just know she’s got her trademark, I’m-a-fake-ass-bitch smile planted on her face for all to see. She always makes sure to do her business with a smile.
“No, actually, YOU wrote Doyle’s name down on the invite list FOR me. I wrote Chris’ name in as my second date,” I say, feeling myself get just a little bit braver. The tropical drinks that I inhaled earlier are giving me a new wave of confidence—and a new wave of anger. “And Doyle, in case you haven’t noticed, isn’t here. So I’m going to hang out with the person who actually showed up.”
Darby looks shocked at my sudden assertiveness, but I already know that she won’t be backing down. She’s not the kind of girl who will let go of any leverage she may have—such a charming sorority girl, this one.
“Look Maura, I thought I’ve hinted this to you before, but it’s generally frowned upon here in Greek society to be seen with a man who is not a member of a fraternity. Wait for Doyle to get here. He’s the one you should be going for. A guy like him can really up your status here on campus,” she says, her voice tinted more with sarcasm than concern. I catch Chris watching the exit, contemplating a way to sneak out of here. I would love to follow him. I wish I could remember why the hell I thought coming to this dreaded event was a good idea.
Darby’s mouth is still flapping but I’ve tuned her out. Blah, blah, fucking blah. I’m so god damn tired of hearing about what’s deemed ‘appropriate’ and what’s not in this ridiculous Greek world. Appearance is all these people care about. As long as you can wrap it up in a pretty box, it’s Greek approved!
I stare her down for a second until Chris breaks my focus by handing me a drink. He offers his hand out to greet Darby, but she spins around and slinks away before he even has a chance to speak.
“What’s her problem?”
I wish I knew the answer to that.
“Come on Chris, let’s finish these drinks, take a few shots, and go dance,” I demand, grabbing him by the hand and taking the lead. He obliges, and after another rum and coke and three
shots of tequila, we manage to find our own secret spot on the dance floor, away from Darby and her group of prying eyes.
The dance floor is now packed with girls in slutty clothes—dancing with a drink in one hand and a purse slung over the other. Midriffs are aplenty. The guys who are just now arriving sit on the couches that ring around the dance floor, leering at the girls gyrating on each other as they sip on their beers. Couples are grinding on each other and six girls have migrated up to the DJ platform, where they hump each other in a single file line, one arm holding out a drink and the other grasping the girl in front of her. No one’s shy anymore. Not even me. I wrap my arms around Chris’ waist and pull him into my body—his breath warm on my neck. He wants to kiss me. I can feel it. And even though I know deep down that I should stop him, I’m not going to.
I just don’t give a fuck anymore.
“Meet me outside.”
My arm is jerked away and Chris is left standing alone on the edge of the dance floor. I’m thrown through the crowd of smokers standing out front.
“What’s going on now, Darby?” I ask as I use a light pole to regain my balance.
“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”
Everything’s blurry. I can make out colors—blue, pink, some sort of yellow—but not shapes. I just want to close my eyes and lay down.
“I would if I knew what the fuck you were talking about.”
“Listen little girl,” she snaps, grabbing my upper arm. “Don’t cop this shitty attitude with me. You wouldn’t be in this sorority if it weren’t for me. All of the sisters thought you were some boring ass bitch with zero personality. I had to fight for you.”
“I…I…”
“Where’s Doyle?” she says, her voice sharp and quick.
“I already told you, I don’t know,” I say, pulling out of her arm and letting myself fall to the ground.
“He always comes to our date functions. He’s NEVER missed one.”
She begins to pace in front of me as she struggles to light a cigarette, but her hands are shivering too much and she just gives up. She gawks at me and then averts her eyes back down to the ground. There’s a question lurking in her mind—one that she’s struggling to form into words. I hold my breath to brace for the blow.
“Did you say something to him Maura?”
“What?”
Just leave me the hell alone, Darby. Why won’t you just LEAVE ME ALONE?
“DID. YOU. SAY. SOMETHING,” she barks, purposely enunciating each syllable as if I have no understanding of the language she’s speaking. She’s convinced herself that I’m the one at fault here, and it’s her job to understand just what happened. What I did to poor, unsuspecting Doyle. It’s so fucking ridiculous to me that she can’t see the situation for what it really is. And I hate her for it.
“Darby, I…”
I cross my legs out in front of me and start rubbing my fingers over a run in my tights. My brain is working at the pace of a slug. I can’t form any concrete thoughts or rebuttals right now. I keep my lips tight.
“Tell me. Now,” she growls, the anger edged in her voice making me shudder. This is it. There’s no going back. She’s officially going to hate me forever now. And I couldn’t care less. I’ll be better off. One less person I need to worry about. Things were so fucking better when it was just me. I can’t wait to get back there.
“It was nobody here…” I whisper.
She tightens her hands into fists and freezes. I swear to God, if there weren’t a bouncer standing right next to us, she would punch me right in the jaw, shattering my teeth and splaying blood all over the brick wall. A few passers by stop and ask if I’m ok. Yes, I try to convey with my minuscule head nods.
“You have to be fucking kidding me. Who, Maura? WHO?”
I feel her fiery eyes burning into me, but I look past hers. I can’t let her see the moisture that’s developing in the corner of mine. I can literally feel my life falling apart, and it’s painful.
“I…I was home for Christmas. My mom just knew something was wrong. She’s been overly attentive to my moods for the past few years, and she forced me to tell her.”
“Is she going to make you report it?” she asks as she successfully lights a cigarette and starts pacing again.
“Darby, I don’t know,” I say as I squeeze my eyes shut and try to bring my mind somewhere else.
‘Maura, I just wanted to let you know that I’m really happy you joined my sorority,’ Darby says as she reaches out and bumps my arm with her socked foot. The whole house is silent now. Movie night has officially been over for two hours, but Darby and I just kept talking. She told me about what it was like growing up with her parents, and I talked to her about my parents’ divorce. She’s the only person besides Owen that I’ve ever brought it up to.
“Yes you do. What is your mother going to do, Maura? You need to tell me. NOW.”
‘I’m so happy you shared all of this with me,’ she said as she pulled me in for a hug. ‘You’ve been so quiet and I was worried that you weren’t going to open up. But you are. You’re growing so much here, Maura.’
“She went with me to the counselor’s office when she dropped me off.”
‘I’m proud of the strong, brave woman you’re becoming. And I couldn’t be happier that you’re my little sister.’
“I…I can’t believe this,” she says, dropping her face into her open palms. Her voice is growing frenzied. “We are so incredibly FUCKED. Do you realize that?”
“Darby, I’m sorry. Please, you have to understand where I’m coming from. What I went through, it…” I say in a panic. Her lips curl with disgust. Her face hardens. And she stares me straight in the eyes. Beads of perspiration form on my forehead as she just…stares.
“Darby…”
“Your life is OVER, you stupid bitch.”
****
Chris is still sitting in the same spot, talking to a group of his friends that must have stopped by while I was out getting verbally harassed. I take a deep breath as I snake my way through the crowd, determined to block everything out. I lay my hand flat on his upper back and whisper ‘hey’ as I slide into the barstool next to him.
“Hey yourself. Is everything ok?”
“Yeah. I think so. Just needed to get some fresh air,” I lie.
“Well I was about to order another round. Can I get you a drink?”
“Ok. There’s no way I can turn down a free drink,” I say, giving my best attempt at a lighthearted smile. “And I need a shot.” God knows I need a shot.
I get my shot first, and I down it without hesitation. He orders a bottle of beer and smiles in a way that makes my heart sing for the first time in ages as he hands it to me. The coolness that flows over my body from holding it and the giddy sensation from the shot seems to bring me back down to a somewhat sane state of mind. I take a long, deep breath and throw a smile back at Chris. I feel his hand graze over my knee and up to my thigh, where he lets it rest. He’s looking longingly into my eyes now, and I get the feeling that maybe I shouldn’t be thinking what I am right now.
This is the absolute last thing I need right now.
But the way he is touching me and breathing into my ear is almost too much to resist. I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so desperate for attention and human companionship as I do right now.
“Wanna go out back for a smoke?” he purrs into my ear. His voice is sweet and calming like the gentle syllables of a baby’s lullaby. I have no clue how to properly smoke. But I’m sure I can fake it.
“Okay, let’s go.”
I stumble off of my barstool and grab his hand for support. He leads us through the now mammoth crowd and towards the same back door I went through just a short time ago. Last time I was infuriated. This time I’m full of yearning.
He guides me to the far end of the smoker’s porch, away from the huddled groups of people that are pushed up against each other to keep warm, emitting small clouds of smoke above their
heads. He’s holding my hand now, and our fingers are interlaced like two lovers who can’t bear to be apart. I squeeze for a moment and imagine this is what it might feel like to have someone who truly loves you. Someone who’s willing to stand by your side, through all of you amazing moments, but, more importantly, through all of your dark moments. Owen always saw more of my dark moments. And he couldn’t manage to stay by my side. My heart aches as I look down at Chris’ finger, rubbing the sensitive patch of skin between my thumb and forefinger—because he doesn’t mean it. No one ever will. I’ve never been more sure than I am right now that I’m going to be alone forever. I’m utterly unlovable.
Chris leans back against a faded brick wall and pulls out a pack of brand new cigarettes. He rips it open and holds it in front of me, signaling for me to take one for myself. Instead, I lock my eyes on his, feelings of desperation pummeling up from deep inside. I push the pack down to his side and lean in as closely as I can without actually touching his face. In an instant, he meets my face with a tender kiss on my lips, so sweet and so adoring it makes my heart sing. He pulls back afterwards, but I don’t want to stop. I don’t want this feeling to end. I throw my face forward to meet him again, and this time I initiate a long, deep kiss. I open my mouth gradually and let my tongue dance with his. He tastes like stale cigarettes and beer, but I don’t mind. He pulses his tongue deeper into my mouth, like he’s reaching for something in particular. His whole body is thrusting towards me, and I have to grab a hold of his waist to prevent myself from falling. He slips his hand onto my lower back and spins me around so I’m now leaning against the wall. The damp bricks send a shiver up my bare back, and my entire body is now pressed up against them. I can feel the moisture seeping in through my tights.
I’ve gotten lost somehow, and now Chris is in total control of this moment. He’s rubbing his body against mine and moaning into my ear, and it only takes a split second for his hand to be up the front of my shirt. He’s caressing me underneath my bra, and I can feel his dry cuticles scraping roughly against my sensitive skin. I turn my face to the side and try to gasp for air. My hands are now being gently pushed down his pants, a warm cavern that has my insides shrieking in a panic.
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