Rush

by Lisa Patton

  “Sorry I’m late,” she says when she sees me. “I was meeting with a party planner about Annie Laurie’s birthday party in February. Gage and I are throwing her a Mardi Gras ball here in Oxford.”

  Her hair is down today. Only half of it is in a ponytail, but it’s still got a bump on top, like Barbie’s, and her makeup is perfect. She takes out her key and opens the chapter room door. To my knowledge, it’s never been locked before. “Have a seat, Pearl.” She motions to a row of chairs. All the chairs are set up from Monday night’s chapter meeting, so I pull one out from the back row and sit down. She pulls out another, making sure to keep a noticeable distance between us, then sits down herself. A pleasant smile spreads across her face, but I can’t say it’s genuine. “How can I help you, today?”

  Looks like there’ll be no small talk so I dive right in. “I’d like you to reconsider my application for House Director.”

  That smile fades away as fast as butter can burn. “As I told you before, we have mandatory qualifications for the position. Last time we spoke you didn’t have a college degree. Has that changed?”

  I refuse to be rattled by that snarky comment. “You know it hasn’t.” Folding my hands in my lap, I just look at her.

  Now we’re in a standoff.

  “I do have a question for you,” I say after a long fifteen seconds. “Does knowing everything about this House and caring about every girl here account for anything?”

  Not one speck of emotion crosses her face. “Carla didn’t know any of the girls when she was hired, but she did have a bachelor’s degree, which prepares the mind for all the business decisions that come with this job.” She holds up both pointer fingers to emphasize her words. “We have it recorded in the Alpha Delt bylaws that the House Director must have a college degree. If you like, I’d be happy to share that document with you.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  She stands up, as if our conversation is over, wearing a smile as phony as a cheap silk flower. “Maybe next time we’re searching for a House Director—if you have graduated by then—you can reapply.”

  But I keep my seat. I am not done. “Not everyone has had the opportunities you’ve had, Mrs. Whitmore. Have you ever considered that perhaps I had every intention of graduating from college?”

  Now she just looks at me.

  “Sometimes life has a way of grabbing folks by the tail, and they’re forced to head in another direction. One they may not have planned.”

  “That’s not really our problem, though, is it?”

  Dear Lord, this woman is cold. Just like Aunt Fee said. The way she has patronized me, refusing to acknowledge all the years I’ve spent working here, is causing my insides to boil. But I take a deep breath. And I make a conscious decision to keep the lid on, because the pressure in my stomach wants to blow that lid right out the roof of this House. I didn’t want to make this about my skin color, but I know, and she knows, that’s exactly what this is about. She could bend the college-degree rule if she wanted to, and probably would if one of her friends applied for the job, but I can’t modify the color of my skin.

  I have a choice. I can file a lawsuit, then spend the next few years fighting it. Lose all the friends I’ve made and be that person. That black woman who sued Alpha Delta Beta sorority and won. Because I know I have a good chance of winning.

  But what then? I actually get to be the House Director? Come home to find all the girls standing out on the porch welcoming me with open arms after I’d sued their sorority? I could never do that. That’s not me. But it’s not going to stop me from letting this woman know she’s no better than I am.

  I notice Miss Lilith’s eyes leave mine and glance down to her booties.

  I stand up so we’re eye to eye. “If I were the mother of Patrick Willis, the best linebacker in Ole Miss history, or even Beyoncé’s mother, how would you feel about my application then?”

  “What?”

  “How about if I was kin to Stevie Wonder and I could bring him here to perform at your Grove party? Then would you want me as your House Director?”

  She’s flustered when she answers. “Tha … that is irrelevant.”

  “This is about the color of my skin, isn’t it, Lilith?”

  That silk flower smile fades. I don’t know what’s made her madder: calling her Lilith or calling a spade a spade. She’s up on her tiptoes now, thrusting a finger in my face. “Absolutely not,” she responds with righteous indignation. “It’s in the Alpha Delt bylaws, and I’m going to get—”

  “No point in dancing around it,” I say, begging God to keep me calm because I want to point my finger back at her. But I refuse to stoop to her level. So I keep my voice at an even keel. “That’s exactly what this is about.”

  “No, it’s not,” she answers, taking three steps toward the door.

  I step with her. “If it could be proven that this is about my skin color, you would be in a lot of trouble, Lilith. I know that and you know that.”

  She slowly turns back around.

  I stare at her and wait for my words to stick, like bugs on flypaper. “But since I love everybody here and since Alpha Delt has been my home and my family for the last twenty-five years, I will not put the people I love in that position.”

  I see her shoulders relax, then her tone softens. “Again, the bylaws specifically state that the House Director…”

  She’s rambling on and on about the same ol’ thing—her only defense. But instead of listening to her I listen to my heart, and the more I do the clearer the problem becomes. “This is not your fault.”

  That lady’s posture stiffens like a soldier’s. I have her attention now.

  “It started with your great-great granddaddy and grandmama and trickled down through all the generations in your family.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asks with that same sharp tone.

  “Generational racism. It’s like a weed. In one season it can overtake the garden and choke out the beauty. It never stops reseeding itself till somebody makes the choice to pull it out by the root and destroy it once and for all.”

  She closes her eyes, then shakes her head like I don’t know what I’m talking about.

  “That goes for both sides. Black folks can’t be running around talking trash about white folks. Don’t get me wrong; there’s been plenty of injustice, we have to stand up for what’s right. But if we keep blaming every white man for all our problems, what good does that do? Progress will never happen.”

  “Finally you’ve said something that makes sense. If I hear another word about ‘Black Lives Matter’ I’ll throw up. Don’t all lives matter?”

  I’m not sure how we moved on to Black Lives Matter, but even so I decide to change my tone. Add some kindness back in. See if I can help her. “May I make a suggestion?”

  I notice she’s lightly tapping her foot, but she does answer me. “Sure.”

  “You have an awesome opportunity in front of you.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You could set a beautiful example by showing every one of our well-to-do girls that a qualified African American”—I flick a finger at her now—“you know full well I’m qualified—can be the House Director of one of the finest white sororities in the South. You could be the one to show them that it doesn’t have to be because of affirmative action or equal opportunity, but just because I’m the right person for this job.”

  I look up at her, thinking she might stop me, but she doesn’t. So I keep on.

  “The world you and I grew up in says I shouldn’t have a job like this. But things are changing. Young people today don’t buy that any longer. This is your chance to make a difference in Mississippi and show folks all over our state that a Caucasian woman from an old Natchez family is willing to lead her sorority down a new and better path.”

  She has not interrupted me one time. Not only is my face smiling, but my heart is, too. I’m certain that everything I’ve said to her has had an impact
, and that she might be willing to pull herself out of darkness and step into the light.

  But the expression on that lady’s face stays the same. She’s not budging.

  On second thought, I don’t believe one word I’ve said has penetrated her brain, much less her heart. All my words must have soared right over her froufrou Barbie head and smashed into smithereens on the composite behind her.

  Looks like I’ve got another choice. What will it be like if I choose to stay in my job as housekeeper? After the way this woman has insulted me? Aunt Fee was exactly right. I must find another job. As much as I love these girls, I don’t want to work here with a ball and chain of resentment hanging from my heart. My time with Alpha Delt has come to an end.

  I take a few steps toward the door, then turn back around. “Twenty-five years is a long time to work somewhere. It won’t be easy to start over, but you’ve left me with no choice.”

  After looking at me like I’m crazy, she says, “You’re quitting? Because you can’t have the promotion?”

  I shake my head slowly. “And resent working here? No thank you. I best be moving on.”

  “Okay. You win.”

  My breath catches. “Wha … what?”

  “You can have a raise. How’s does seventy-five cents more an hour sound?” By the switch in her tone, it’s evident. She thinks she’s saved the day.

  I just look at her. Then I turn, put my hand on the doorknob.

  “Fine. I’ll give you a dollar extra per hour,” she says to the back of my head.

  I make an about-face, take a few steps toward her. “You could offer me a hundred more dollars an hour and I wouldn’t stay. This is about my dignity, not my paycheck.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s … I don’t know exactly what it amounts to, but I’m offering you a big raise.”

  “Actually, it’s right around twelve hundred dollars by the time I pay taxes and collect unemployment all summer.”

  Her mouth falls open. Seems she’s surprised I can calculate her offer in my head. “Suit yourself.”

  I clasp my hands together, shake my head from side to side. “I feel sorry for you, Miss Lilith, you know that?”

  Another of her big plastic grins spreads clear across her face. “Why’s that?”

  “You’re so worried about how something looks and keeping things the way they’ve always been, you don’t even know I’m the best, most qualified person for this job. You go on and hire another white lady. She’ll have a college degree and a good sense of how things are supposed to be run around here. But there’s one thing she won’t be able to do. And that’s show our girls how to have relationships with people of color. I love every one of them, and I care about helping them to become the best young women they can be. Kind, compassionate, and color-blind.”

  “The girls have their own mothers for that. But they do need a top-notch housekeeper like yourself to keep this house looking like the showplace it was built to be. The Alpha Delts take great pride in their sorority house. That’s the reason your job is so important.”

  Sometimes you need to know when to close the window. I look around the room—every wall full of composites from years past, a few from when I first started at Alpha Delt. I can only hope and pray that as far back as twenty-five years, I may have made a difference in the girls’ hearts.

  My eyes travel around the room one last time, then I open and close the door softly behind me. I head straight up to my closet, grab my pocketbook, and hurry out the side door.

  SIXTY-TWO

  CALI

  I’m in the study lounge with several of my pledge sisters, in between classes, when I see Miss Pearl rush out the side door. She’s got her purse over her shoulder and I can tell by her face something’s wrong. I shove my math book aside and grab my coat.

  Becca, who is right across from me reading her biology book, looks up. “Where you going?”

  “I just thought of something I forgot to do,” I whisper. “I’ll be back.” I don’t give her another opportunity to ask any more questions. I hurry out of the lounge.

  Then I run through the side door. After looking both ways down Sorority Row I spot Miss Pearl, already two hundred feet down, walking briskly in the direction of the Union. I rush down the front steps and onto the street. “Miss Pearl,” I holler. She doesn’t turn around. Now I’m running behind and calling her name again. “Miss Pearl!”

  She stops, looks over her shoulder.

  I wave, then yell again, “Wait.” By the time I catch up with her I’m out of breath. Reaching out to touch her arm, I say, “Are you okay?”

  She presses her lips together, shuts her eyes. “I’m okay, baby. Just need some time to think things through.”

  “What things?” We’ve shared our most intimate struggles with each other. Surely I have the right to ask her this question.

  After inhaling a deep breath, she opens her eyes. “Cali. I just quit my job.”

  No, no. She can’t do that. We’re … Eli Manning is coming to Oxford to help us change things. I want to tell her all about it, but it’s not the right time. Everyone in our pledge class had decided we would tell the whole staff together. In a special way. Right before Monday Night Chapter. “Why did you quit? What happened?”

  She’s not crying. In fact, she’s pretty calm. “Do you remember on Bid Day when I told you to keep your distance from Lilith Whitmore?”

  I snicker. “Of course I remember. And a lot has happened you don’t know about. Has she done something to you?” Tons of girls are walking back from class, several have their heads down in their phones, but some are looking at us curiously.

  “Let’s go sit,” she says, pointing down the road. “In the Grove. I haven’t taken a seat in the Grove in years.” It’s beautiful outside, crisp with a solid blue sky, but once we pass under the trees I feel a sudden drop in temperature. I stop to zip my jacket and Miss Pearl takes a moment to look up at the trees. Autumn is in its full chromatic glory. When she sees that I’m zipped up she motions for us to sit on a short wall with the James Meredith statue behind us.

  What Miss Pearl tells me is shocking. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Especially when I think about the way Mrs. Whitmore treated me. But hearing about the way she just talked to Miss Pearl is outrageous. Who would say all those mean things to Miss Pearl? She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever known.

  “She can’t do that,” I say. “It’s discrimination. You should sue.” I point my finger down the street.

  “Cali.” She brings my hand down, rests it on top of my thigh. “Listen to me. I am not suing anybody. If I’m not wanted somewhere that’s reason enough for me to leave.”

  “But you are wanted. You shouldn’t have to quit your job because she’s a racist.”

  “It’s more than that, baby. I do not want to work for that woman. I would hate my job. Dread coming into work every day. Right now, I might not make much, but at least I enjoy my work. With Mama Carla leaving, things will change. My time has come to an end.”

  “This is wrong. You would have made the best housemother.” I’m conflicted about whether or not to tell her about our plan for staff benefits. “I don’t know why I thought sorority life would be so important. I was dead wrong. I wish I had never rushed.”

  “Don’t say that, Cali. You are right where you belong. You understand the important things in life. You need to be an Alpha Delt—to set an example.”

  “I was gonna say that about you.” I sigh, imagining the thought of losing Miss Pearl before we have the chance to develop a deeper relationship. “What will you do for work?”

  “I’m headed to the employment office now to apply for a job with the University.”

  “Aren’t you already an Ole Miss employee?”

  “No, baby. We all work directly for Alpha Delt. Once I get on with the University I’ll get health insurance and retirement. Aunt Fee had been bugging me to do it before she died. So that’s what I’m doing.”

  �
�But … we’re working on something that might change all that.” I just say it.

  “Nothing’s going to change at Alpha Delt. I’ve been there a long time. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “We’re making staff benefits our pledge-class philanthropy project. We had it all planned to tell the staff on Monday night before Chapter.” Then I tell her the whole story. About Eli Manning, Ellie’s dad, Mrs. Whitmore. I tell her everything.

  “You and Ellie did all that?”

  I nod.

  Tears well up in her eyes. “For all of us? Oh Lord. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just say you’ll stay.” I reach over and hug her tightly.

  “Cali. I wish I could. But I’m sure you can understand. This is about my dignity. My time with Alpha Delt has come to an end. I can’t work for someone who disrespects me. I’ll be fine. You go ahead on with your plan. There are still six people on our staff who need to be treated fairly. They need benefits every bit as much as I do.”

  “I do understand. I’m just really sad right now. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t lose me. We can get together … anytime you want.”

  All I can muster is a weak smile.

  “There’s not a single black housemama on this whole campus. Probably not one on any other SEC campus. That’s the real reason Lilith Whitmore is against me. She’s worried about how it would be perceived if Alpha Delt had a black House Director.”

  I know she’s right. I’ve lived in Mississippi my whole life, and there are many, many people who still care about that kind of thing. “I hate that, Miss Pearl.”

  She pats my knee, then pushes herself up from the wall. “I better go on over there.”

  I stand up, look into her eyes. “I know we haven’t known each other all that long. But this is my great loss. I’m actually jealous of all the girls who have known you longer.”

  “That’s so sweet, baby. Thank you. You remember what I said. We can still get together.”

  “Will you come by for visits?” Honestly, I feel like crying, because I’m so very sad right now.

  “Of course. That woman can’t keep me from my babies.” She stretches her arm around my shoulders. “You get on back now. I’ll be okay.” When she hugs me, I do not want to let her go. It feels like I’m losing a mother. Not just any mother. Certainly not one with rotten teeth and dreadlocks who abandons her daughter. A real one.