Sorority of Three: Freshman 101

by Melissa Brown

  “It will, Ma. I promise.”

  “Good girl. Wash up for dinner. We’re going out.”

  “Seriously?” We never went out to dinner. What in the hell was going on? First a car, now dinner in a restaurant? I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it didn’t.

  “I’ll cook tomorrow. That was a long drive and I want to relax,” Mom explained.

  “No complaints from me.” I raised my hands up in innocence.

  She looked me up and down. “You’re too thin. Aren’t they feeding you?”

  I’d hardly eaten that past month, too stressed over my feud with Grace.

  “Of course, Ma. Just stressed out, ya know? Papers, tests.”

  “We’ll take care of that.” She smiled, pressing her lips to my forehead. “So happy you’re home, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks.”

  My cell chirped from my pocket. A guilty expression crossed my face.

  “Go ahead.” Mom threw her hands up in exasperation. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

  “Got it. You’re the best, Ma.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  It was Libby.

  OMG! Are you serious? Of course! Want to come down here next weekend?

  My heart leaped to my throat as I pondered her offer. Of course, I wanted to. But staying at her house with her parents? Wouldn’t that be odd?

  Yes, Libby was “out” and had been for a couple of years, but still. Gay or not, my parents would never let me have someone I was dating sleep here. Way too complicated. Hell, in high school, I couldn’t even have boys in my bedroom. “Living room only,” my father always said, glaring at me above his glasses. How on earth would Libby’s parents handle their daughter’s girlfriend staying an entire weekend?

  C: At your house?

  L: No, silly. We’ll go somewhere—like a hotel or something.

  My heart leaped into my throat again…this time for a completely different reason. An entire weekend with Libby, just the two of us. No parents, roommates, or friends. Just us.

  C: OMG, yes! One with a pool.

  L: Great. Pick me up Friday?

  C: I’ll check with my parents.

  L: Good. Call me tonight before sleep.

  C: Always. <3

  Grabbing my bags, I jogged up to my bedroom before my mother could read the excitement on my face. I had to be smart with all of this. I wasn’t ready to tell them, and they certainly weren’t ready to hear it. I had to plan my words carefully so as not to rock the boat. The last thing I wanted was for them to change their minds about the car. I’d been home for ten minutes and had already grown extremely attached to the idea of it being mine.

  “So…are you dating?”

  We’d barely sat down to dinner at the restaurant. Hell, our waitress hadn’t even taken our drink order, and my mother was already up my ass. I knew she was hoping I’d meet someone worthy of marriage. My parents weren’t hung up on finding someone with the same background—thank God, Champaign wasn’t exactly crawling with Lebanese guys—but if they had any idea who had possession of my heart, they would not deal well at all. I’d probably be yanked out of school and sent to some sort of Christian de-programming camp.

  Seriously, they wouldn’t be pleased—not in the least. And I dreaded the day I’d have to tell them who I was…who I really was.

  “She doesn’t need to date. She should focus on her studies.” My father harrumphed behind his reading glasses, studying the menu of the Greek restaurant. “Do you want saganaki or not?”

  My mother shook her head, brushing him off. “Nonsense. She’s eighteen years old. I was nineteen when we married.”

  “Things are different. She’s getting an education. Enough, Soha.”

  She rolled her eyes and whispered to me from behind her menu, “You’ll tell me later.”

  I turned my attention back to my father. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m not getting distracted by guys.”

  It wasn’t a lie, not technically.

  “Good girl,” he said, patting me gently on the shoulder. “Always a smart girl. You get that from me.”

  “Humph.”

  My mother peered at her menu, wrinkling her nose in irritation. She allowed my father to call the shots in their marriage, always suffering in silence. But it was their dynamic, and there was nothing I could say that would change it. It was dysfunctional, sure, but it worked for them in a strange, unique way. And seriously, who was I to judge? The daughter who was involved in a secret lesbian relationship? I was far from an expert on relationships.

  “Listen, Mom…Dad, I’d like to go back to campus early. If that’s okay.”

  “Will the dorms be open?” A thick line formed down the middle of my mother’s forehead.

  “That’s the thing. My friend Libby…she has an apartment. I can stay with her till the dorms open.”

  “You just got here. Why are you in such a rush?” My father placed his elbow on the table and propped his chin onto his open palm.

  “Midterms are next week,” I lied. “I want to get a head start on studying.”

  “You can study here.” My mother shook her head, dismissing me.

  “I need to use the library, though. And that’ll be open. Please, Ma.”

  “All right, all right. I can’t keep up with you anymore, Claudia.”

  “I expect excellent marks this semester.” My father’s eyes were wide over his glasses.

  “Yes, sir.” I nodded. Luckily my course load wasn’t too overwhelming. And I was acing all of my classes. I had no doubt the midterms would be a cake walk.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Libby. We would have the weekend. Just us.

  I couldn’t wait until Friday.

  • • •

  The gravel of Libby’s long driveway crunched beneath the tires of my Toyota as I approached the large rustic farmhouse. I had no idea she grew up on a farm. We really were from two totally different worlds, but that didn’t matter. When we were together everything made sense, and that was all that mattered to me. And hopefully to her.

  I was stepping out of the car when I heard the front door slam shut. Libby squealed as she ran to me. “You’re here, you’re here.”

  She tackled me into the driver’s side door of the car. She smelled like sugar and melted butter. Knowing her, she’d been baking all morning. Something I’d learned about my girlfriend was that she baked when she was feeling excited or anxious—cookies, brownies, cake pops on sticks. It was her thing, and I was kind of honored that my arrival had prompted her to spend some time in the kitchen.

  “You smell like heaven.”

  “Sugar cookies. Your favorite.” She placed a tiny kiss on my lips. I glanced around us, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “My parents know all about you, remember?”

  “Sorry…habit.” I shrugged, placing my hands around her waist and pulling her closer. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  “Ugh, you have no idea.” Libby rolled her eyes at herself.

  “That was less than a week. How are we going to get through summer?” I asked.

  Libby’s expression changed and I couldn’t read her. She looked sad, which made sense, but there was something else. Something hidden behind her sky-blue eyes. Maybe it was just too painful for her to think about. Maybe my intolerant family put a damper on her vision of our summer together. Whatever it was, I had no intention of spoiling my time with her by focusing on the negative. I changed the subject in an attempt to bring her smile back to her eyes.

  “I can’t believe you never told me,” I said, gesturing to the small farm. “Do you have chickens and stuff?”

  “Yep. Their coop is behind the garage. Fresh eggs every morning. We have a couple of cows, too.”

  “Fresh milk?”

  “Yep.” She looked proud. “My parents still have other jobs, though. It’s not a full-time functioning farm. The chickens and cows are all we have. And we sell our corn and tomatoes at the farmer’
s market every week in the fall.”

  “That’s cool.” And it was. I couldn’t imagine growing up on a farm. All I’d ever known was our simple suburban home with a dad who worked way too many hours and a mother who stayed home with her children.

  “Come in, they’re excited to meet you.”

  “And they know that we’re…”

  “A couple?”

  I nodded, pursing my lips together.

  “Yep.”

  God, I was jealous. Seriously. I wasn’t ignorant, though. I knew it hadn’t always been easy for Libby. She had to come out to her family and deal with the awkward moments that it brought at holidays and family get-togethers. But they’d accepted her. She wasn’t thrown out of their lives and they were still sending her to college. I wasn’t confident that my experience would be the same.

  Libby took my hand in hers and led me into the warm house. The smell of sugar filled the air.

  “How many cookies did you bake?”

  “Don’t ask.” She blushed, looking down at her feet. God, she was beautiful. I wanted to kiss her again, but there was no way in hell I’d be doing that in her parents’ home.

  “Mom, Dad,” she called out.

  “Coming,” I heard a deep voice call from upstairs. The staircase creaked and the footsteps grew louder as her dad approached. Her mom popped out from the archway of the kitchen. Aside from the wrinkles on her forehead and temples, Libby’s mother looked just like her. She was pale with long blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. But her body type was totally her dad. He was tall and lanky with the body of a runner, just like Libby.

  “You must be Claudia,” her mother said, a genuine smile upon her pretty face. She pulled me into a hug. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Uh…thank you, Mrs.—”

  “Nope, call me Margo.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I mean…Margo.” My parents never allowed my friends, or boyfriends, to call them by their first names. This was all new to me.

  “And this is Steve, Libby’s father.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  He smiled wide before extending his arm and waving me to the kitchen. “You’ve been driving a while. Can I get ya anything? Water? Iced tea?”

  “Diet Coke?” Libby asked, opening the fridge to reveal a fresh six pack.

  “Are you addicted to that swill, too?” Steve asked with a laugh.

  “Completely,” I admitted, the tension in my muscles calming. I couldn’t believe how comfortable I was feeling with Libby’s parents. I’d expected to feel awkward for at least the first three hours.

  “It’s a college prerequisite, honey,” Margo added, tapping him on the shoulder.

  “Exactly,” Libby said, handing me a can of “swill.” I giggled to myself at that word.

  “Dinner will be ready in a few. Just finishing up.”

  “Can I help?” I asked, genuinely hoping to keep myself busy in the kitchen instead of feeling like I was on display.

  “No, no, I’ve got it,” Margo said, shooing me away with an oven mitt. “You can all take a seat in the dining room. I’ll bring the lasagna in just a sec.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Libby said, taking my hand in hers. My immediate instinct was to pull away but then I realized I was safe here, with her family. I took a deep breath and followed her to the dining room, amazed that when her dad glanced our way, he didn’t even flinch at our display of affection. I could get used to this.

  An hour later, we’d devoured Margo’s lasagna and salad, and were all sitting with empty plates.

  “That was delicious, thank you.”

  “Of course. We’re so happy to have met you. Libby talks about you all the time.”

  “Coffee, Mom and Dad?”

  “That’d be great, honey.”

  “Want another?” Libby asked, after she rose to her feet, gesturing to my empty soda can.

  “Sure.”

  “You’re gonna have to get your addiction under control by August, sweetheart,” Steve said, placing his napkin onto his empty plate.

  Libby froze. She looked between her dad and me. Once, and then again. She opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing.

  “Hmm?” I asked, clueless, eyeing her strange behavior.

  “Well, I mean, of course they have soda in Spain, but I’ve heard it’s not nearly the same,” Steve added.

  The temperature in the room jumped at least ten degrees in that moment. I had no idea what her dad was talking about, but the ghostly paleness of Libby’s cheeks told me it was bad for me. Really bad.

  “Um…Spain?” I asked, my voice croaking like a bullfrog.

  “I was gonna tell you tonight,” Libby said.

  “Oh, geez,” Steve said, clenching his teeth. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  Libby shut her eyes tight and silence hung in the air.

  “We’ll, um, Steve,” Margo said, taking Steve’s hand in her own. “Let’s have our coffee in the living room. Give these two a chance to talk.”

  Quickly, they left the room. Guilt was plastered to Steve’s face as he followed Margo into the kitchen.

  My mouth was agape, my cheeks were hot, and my pulse was racing. “Spain?” I asked again. This time, Libby was the only one to hear it.

  “Yeah.” She nodded, swallowing hard as she sat back in her chair. “I just found out…I got accepted to the program. Study Abroad.”

  “What? When?” I was panicking. I’d never allowed myself to panic before, but I was most certainly panicking at the idea of Libby being an ocean away.

  “Next semester. I was going to tell you, I just—”

  “When exactly next semester? Like…when do you go? August?”

  “Yeah, August fifth.”

  “And when will you be back?”

  “Christmas.”

  The air left my lungs and I clutched the butcher’s block on the kitchen island. “F-five months?”

  “Yeah.”

  My gaze drifted up to stare at the ceiling as I desperately fought back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. I focused on the popcorn texture of the ceiling, willing myself to calm down.

  “You didn’t…you didn’t even tell me.”

  “I applied, like, months ago. I’d forgotten all about it. Till I got the letter on Monday.”

  “You’ve known since Monday?” I glared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing. “We’ve talked every single night, Lib. What the hell?” I whispered with daggers in my eyes. I didn’t want her parents to hear my reaction, but I couldn’t hide it either.

  Libby stumbled over her words. “I—I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought it was better to say it in person.”

  “But you pulled the freaking rug out from under me, Lib. Seriously.”

  “I know. And I’m so, so sorry. I was afraid.”

  “Did you think—geez, what did you think? That I wouldn’t be happy for you?”

  “No, I just…I don’t want to leave you. But I can’t pass it up. I’ve always wanted to do this.”

  “So do it,” I snapped.

  “Claude,” she whispered, desperation in her voice.

  “No, it’s fine. I—I’m fine. I, um, I just need to use the bathroom.”

  “Oh, sure…it’s down the hall to the left.”

  “Thanks.”

  Placing the napkin on the dining room table, I somehow managed to reach the bathroom before the tears spilled down my cheeks. Pressing my back to the door, I covered my mouth with the back of my hand, sliding down to sit on the cold tile.

  Libby was leaving me. I’d finally fallen in love and she was leaving.

  Where would I be without her? I’d only begun the process of discovering who Claudia Mansour was…and so much of that was tied to my feelings for the beautiful woman in the dining room.

  What in the hell was I going to do?

  In silence, I cried for several minutes, wiping my tears with toilet paper, willing my cheeks to return to their normal col
or. When that didn’t work, I splashed ice-cold water on my cheeks and felt the heat lift from my skin. I could breathe again, but my heart was still broken. Totally and completely broken.

  The worst part was, I was afraid. Terrified, in fact, of what my life at college would be like without Libby right beside me. Whether it was codependent, or it was needy, I didn’t care. She was my world and I was absolutely terrified to watch her go.

  When I finally composed myself enough to leave the sanctuary of the powder room, I walked back to the dining room. Libby’s mom greeted me.

  “She’s upstairs. I’m so sorry Steve blurted that out. He didn’t know.”

  “Thanks,” I said, my voice small.

  “I know this is odd, coming from me, but I think you two will be okay.” Her smile was warm, genuine, and kind.

  I wanted to believe her, but I just couldn’t. “Is it all right if I go upstairs? To talk to her?”

  “Of course. Upstairs, second door to the right.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for a lovely meal. I’m so sorry if I spoiled it.”

  “You did nothing of the sort.” She placed her hand on my shoulder, grasping it gently. She then glanced at the staircase, nodding her head with a wink. “Go on.”

  Did Libby have any idea how lucky she was to have such unbelievably supportive parents? If the roles were reversed, my parents would have rolled out the red carpet for Libby to leave their home. They would have seized any opportunity for my girlfriend to be removed from my life. But not Libby’s parents. They wanted her to be happy, no matter what. And I admired them for that.

  “Lib?” I said, opening her door slowly. Libby lifted her head in surprise, as if she was shocked I was still there. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, tears soaking her sweater. Her normally perfect porcelain skin was red and splotchy.

  Guilt washed over me for making her feel this way. I eased down next to her, and we sat in silence before she broke the ice.

  “So, is this it? Are we over or something?” She sounded terrified.