Secret Society

by Robin Roseau

"Furthermore," Mary Ellen said, "When the bedroom door opens, the three of you will be kneeling on the floor with your heads touching the floor, and you will intone together that Ms. Hankins and Mrs. Cooper owned your skinny little asses."

  We laughed. "Fine."

  "Excellent. Ms. Furman, when Claudine was perhaps 13 or 14 years old, she had a poster in her bedroom of Leonardo DiCaprio."

  "I had nothing to do with that!" Kiki said.

  "Call me back in an hour," Mary Ellen said immediately.

  "Wait!" said Kiki.

  "I'm waiting," Mary Ellen said.

  "I might know something about the poster."

  "Something happened to the poster," Mary Ellen said. "Claudine was justifiably upset, and she blamed, I believe, Gail Witt, if memory serves me correctly."

  "It was me," Kiki said. "Claudine, I'm so sorry. You and Gail were friends, and I let you blame her, and after that you weren't friends anymore."

  "Oh god, Gail and I hated each other, and that fight was just an excuse to never see each other again," Claudine said. "But you owe me a new poster!"

  Kiki laughed. "I'd find one for you if I really thought you were serious. I'm really sorry."

  Claudine laughed. "It was over 15 years ago. I think I'm over it by now."

  "Claudine, your turn," Mary Ellen said. "When you were a teenager, you had rather firm opinions about the then Ms. Montgomery. Will you explain them?"

  I laughed. "She already told me. You're not batting very well, Ms. Hankins."

  "Um."

  I turned to Claudine.

  "I might have underplayed my feelings."

  "I require details, Ms. Grafton," said Mary Ellen.

  "I sort of kind of hated you," Claudine said. "Like, with a passion hated you." She looked down at her hands.

  "And just imagine," I said. "Now you share my bed." I smiled. "We were kids, and I bet I was hard to like. I still think you're not batting very well, Ms. Hankins, and I'm pretty sure you don't know about any of my secrets I'm afraid to tell either of them."

  "Are you sure about that, Ms. Todd?"

  "No, but I can't think of any, so I'll be impressed if you do."

  "Ms. Todd," she said. "When you were somewhat older, perhaps 15 or a year or two older, you kept pictures near your bed. Perhaps it was in your desk drawer, or even on top of the desk. I don't remember exactly."

  I grew cold inside, and then hot as I began blushing.

  "Ms. Hankins, don't."

  She paused.

  Kiki and Claudine were both looking at me in puzzlement. I dropped my gaze, staring at the phone, and secretly hoping Mary Ellen would stop.

  "Several photos," she said.

  "Please stop."

  "Why?"

  "I'll tell them. You can listen. But don't tell everyone else. Please."

  "All right," she said after a moment. "I expect you to impress me with a forthright, complete response."

  "I'd forgotten about this," I said quietly. "I had photos. I was just figuring out I was gay. And I had photos."

  "Of naked women?" Kiki said. "That's what has you pale as a ghost?"

  "I thought I was blushing."

  "You were, now you're pale."

  "Not naked women," I said. "Okay, I had those, later, but that's not what Ms. Hankins is talking about. How do you know?"

  "Keep going, Ms. Todd."

  "I had pictures of girls I liked," I said. "Some were actresses. Jessica Biel."

  "From 7th Heaven," Kiki said. "She was kind of hot."

  "She's still kind of hot," I said. "More than kind of. Winona Ryder."

  "She's older than us."

  "I fell absolutely in love with her from Beetlejuice."

  "We were like two."

  "Videotapes," I explained. "A few others."

  "You said some were pictures of actresses."

  "Yeah. Some were of girls I knew that I liked," I said quietly.

  "I didn't quite hear that," Ms. Hankins said. "Do speak up, Ms. Todd."

  "I said, some of the pictures were of girls I knew that I liked."

  "Oh yes," she said. "What would you do with these pictures?"

  "Look at them."

  "Last chance, Ms. Todd," she said. "Full disclosure."

  I sighed. "I had photos of both of you," I said. "I had two of you, Claudine."

  They both began laughing. "You got off while looking at pictures of us?"

  The blood all rushed to my face, and I was sure I was beet red. Kiki and Claudine were both laughing.

  "I need to hear you say it, Ms. Todd," said Ms. Hankins.

  "Yes," I said. "Fine. Yes. I used to pick one of the photos at night. And. Um."

  "I'm hanging up now."

  "No!" I said. "Just..."

  "Tell them. All of it."

  "They already know," I said.

  "Details, Ms. Todd. Tiny, tiny details."

  "Fine. I used to think about the person whose picture I was looking at. In bed with me. And then, yes, I'd get off. Well, once I learned how. Before that, I'd just maybe hold the picture, hugging it. And. Damn it, Ms. Hankins. How did you know?"

  "Finish telling it."

  "Fine. Sometimes I'd kiss some of the pictures. Sometimes more than once. Sometimes we'd have conversations."

  "What kind of conversations."

  "It was 15 years ago," I said. "I'm sure they were inane, but there were undoubtedly some I-love-yous included."

  "Any dirty talk?"

  "I was 15!" I said. "I didn't know any dirty talk. I barely knew what the hell I was doing."

  "Both of us?" Kiki asked.

  "Yes."

  Kiki high-fived Claudine. "We're teen heartthrobs! I always wanted to be a heartthrob."

  "Why did they get off so easily, Ms. Hankins, and I got this?"

  "I'd say you got off plenty as a teenager," Claudine said, which renewed my blushing.

  "It's your hazing, Ms. Todd. They're just got caught in the splatter."

  A moment later we heard someone at the door. It took a while before the door opened, and when it did, Ms. Hankins and Mrs. Cooper were both there.

  "Now, this part we're filming for the web site," Ms. Hankins said. "I was promised something."

  Together we sighed, moved to our knees on the floor, bowed our heads all the way down, and then together said, "Our asses were owned by Ms. Hankins and Mrs. Cooper."

  "Damned right they were. Two of you are going to be late to work if you don't hurry."

  Kiki and Claudine took off with a promise one or the other would be by tonight. I stayed where I was. Once we heard the front door open and close, Mary Ellen said, "You may get up, initiate."

  I stood slowly. Mrs. Cooper smiled, thanked me for the source of entertainment, and assured me she could find her way from the house. I was left alone with Mary Ellen Hankins.

  "How did you know? I told Grandmother Cadence the photos were fashion photos."

  She smiled. "I'd seen the photos on your desk, and your grandmother relayed that explanation to me. She seemed to believe your explanation. And until this morning, so did I."

  "What?" I blurted. "But-"

  She laughed. "Your obvious mortification told me there was more to the story, and then it wasn't a difficult guess from there."

  I covered my face.

  "It's not like you would have lied about it," she continued. "But there's one photograph I would like to ask you about."

  "I think I've embarrassed myself enough this morning."

  "And yet, you're going to answer my questions."

  "I'm not sure I am."

  "There was one photo. It was older than the others."

  "I had photos of a few older actresses," I said. "From when they were younger."

  "I believe you got this photo from one of your grandmother's photo albums," Mary Ellen explained. "It would probably have originally been amongst a number of photos taken perhaps 10 or so years previously at the Independence Day celebration. Well, more specifically, during th
e previous week, as the local women prepared the village green for the celebration that year. Do you remember the photo?"

  Yes, I remembered the photo. "It was a long time ago," I said.

  "Your grandmother didn't believe in being stingy with her photographs. I once heard her comment that when she was old and gray, she wanted to still be able to discern the details. This was probably a four-by-six of a young woman about 20 years old. She was somewhat disheveled, and it was a far less sophisticated photo than the others in your stack."

  "Ms. Hankins-"

  "For this conversation, perhaps Mary Ellen is more appropriate. Do you remember the photo?"

  I nodded. "You know who it was, don't you?"

  "I might. Tell me. How much attention did that particular photo receive?"

  "I couldn't say."

  "More than average, about average, or less than average? You do remember the photo, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "How much attention?"

  I turned away. "The woman was older than I was. I was just figuring out what I wanted. She looked so sexy, but sophisticated too, even given the scene. I thought she was pretty, and I thought maybe she was kind."

  "What else did you think?"

  "I thought perhaps she might understand what I was going through as I tried to figure out my own feelings."

  "And might guide you."

  "Yes. You know who it was, don't you?"

  "Yes, I do. It's the photo that caught my eye. It was on top. Your grandmother had asked me to leave something in your room. A note or something; I don't quite remember. But I saw that photo on top, then I looked through the others."

  "Are you going to tell her?"

  "How much attention did that photo receive?"

  "Probably more than average. You're not going to tell her, are you?"

  "No, Blythe. I don't have to."

  "Thank you."

  "You just did."

  And then, laughing, she walked away. But then she turned around. "Let me know if you'd like a fresh photo."

  "Mary Ellen!"

  Second Revote

  I invited no more hazings in the last few days before the next business meeting of the Order of Circe. I also didn't fill any more service hours. Instead, at Mary Ellen's and Claudine's urging, I began work on a more sustainable marketing plan for Guerilla Girl, one that didn't have me consistently working 90 hours a week. Reducing time spent marketing my own services was easy; continuing to generate business was the key. But I was Guerilla Girl. Solving problems like this is what I did.

  "You can't stop marketing," Mary Ellen told me over the phone, "but you haven't pursued all the leads you've generated, either. Don't you have business with some of Opal Pearce's colleagues?"

  "I wanted to wait until all this was over," I said.

  "Why?"

  "I don't know. Instinct just suggests that's best."

  Either Kiki or Claudine arrived at my house around 9:30 or 10:00 each night, ordered me into pajamas, pulled on a pair of her own, and then we climbed into bed to talk quietly for a while before rolling over and going to sleep. It took several more days, but by Saturday, I was feeling like I was back to myself, actually getting more sleep each night than I typically did before this had all begun

  And so, while I was filled with a certain amount of trepidation, I arrived at the home of Ms. Shaffer dressed in another of Grandmother Cadence's red gowns. I wore my hair up this time, and there was even a pair of opera gloves. My ears shimmered, and I was alive and refreshed.

  I felt quite sophisticated.

  When Ms. Shaffer saw me, I thought for a moment she was going to cry. Then she crossed the room to me, enveloped me in a hug, and told me my grandmother never made this gown look this good. I thanked her for inviting me. She then spent the next fifteen minutes with me on her arm, tugging me around her home and making sure I talked to everyone.

  Finally we approached a group consisting of Mayor Bell, Judge Wren, Raquel Boone, and a woman I didn't know. I thought I knew who she was even before the introduction.

  "Marsha," said Ms. Shaffer. The entire group turned towards us.

  "Gladys," said the woman. "And Blythe Todd. I was deeply saddened to learn of the death of your grandmother."

  "Thank you," I said quietly.

  "Marsha, I would like to formally present Blythe Todd. Ms. Todd, this is The Honorable Marsha Adams."

  "Senator," I said. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

  She offered her cheek, and then she said, "We use Ms. here. If I ever arrive in Washington, that is when I wish this group to address me as Senator."

  "Of course, Ms. Adams."

  "Gladys, perhaps you would allow me to steal Ms. Todd from you for a few minutes. I promise to return her to you when I am done."

  "Of course, Marsha. But you may set her free when you're done."

  "Then I shall."

  And so the senator took my arm from Ms. Shaffer and led me on a short walk, finding a quiet corner of the room to talk. She kept my arm, and so we formed a V, our backs to the rest of the room.

  "I must apologize to you. I have neglected you."

  "Senator-"

  "Ms. Adams," she corrected. "And now you will be quiet and listen. I do not apologize often, so you will want to remember this event."

  I smiled briefly and nodded.

  "My job does not normally leave me as distracted as it has the last few months. But I have been juggling several things at once, each of them leaving me nearly as busy as you have been lately. But that is no excuse. What we do here is important, and you should have been properly greeted by every member of this order. Furthermore, your service hours to me shouldn't have been managed by an underling, even one as capable as Ms. Cross. The goal of those hours isn't to stuff envelopes; it is so that you are forced to spend time with each of us, and each of us with you. How else could we get to know each other?"

  She was leaving me flustered. I didn't want her to feel guilty. She was a busy woman, and-

  "Ms. Todd," she said, interrupting what was about to become a silent moment of self-recrimination, "while I have not spent time with you directly, I have been paying attention." And then she laughed. "Not only to your hazings."

  "I'm not sure we should talk about the specifics of any of them," I suggested.

  "I don't engage in those games," she said. "I did a few times, early in my involvement with this order, but I decided I didn't care for it."

  "Some of them have brought me closer to the women involved."

  "Perhaps, but there are other ways to achieve that. Regardless..." She trailed off. "You are everything I would expect from your grandmother's granddaughter."

  "Thank you," I said softly.

  "And twice as gracious," she added. Then she laughed. "You send thank you notes to your tormenters." She shook her head. "I am a professional politician, but if I were to send thank you notes to someone who had tormented me, she better wear gloves when she opens it, lest she discover the contents were laced in arsenic."

  "I'll keep that in mind if you ever find out I voted for your opponent."

  She laughed. "You were living in Portland for my last election."

  "You have been paying attention."

  "Of course not. I just make a point of knowing the voting record of every single one of my constituents."

  "I'm sure you do," I said with a smile. "I presume the NSA provides you with that information."

  "Of course." Then she sighed. "Unfortunately, the NSA failed to tell me the details of your hazing with Harriet. I require you to do so now."

  "I am terribly sorry, but you'll have to have a talk with your contact at our security agencies, or perhaps Judge Wren will share what she knows."

  "Harriet has been exceedingly tight-lipped. And while I would like to suggest that this is not at all like her, it is very much like her. Damned lawyers."

  "Aren't you a lawyer, Ms. Adams?"

  "Pshaw. I'm a politician. We're a much lower life fo
rm than a mere lawyer."

  "My car was booted in response to some very serious offenses," I said. "I pled guilty and threw myself on the mercy of the court."

  "And was the court, indeed, merciful?"

  "I accepted my sentence with a mix of trepidation and aplomb," I replied. "You will need to visit the court records to learn more."

  She sighed dramatically. "Well, Gladys gave me permission to set you free when I was done with you."

  "Perhaps you would do me a favor."

  "Oh?"

  "Perhaps instead of setting me free, you could give me to Dr. Hart."

  "You could simply walk over and join her conversation with her sister and Leanne Mayer." She paused. "They've been avoiding you, haven't they?"

  "Yes, Ms. Hart somewhat less than Dr. Hart and Ms. Mayer."

  "Well then, perhaps we should see if we can discover why that may be." She tugged my arm, and I let her draw me through the room. Then the senator wasn't particularly subtle. She set me next to the doctor and literally transferred my hand to her arm before stepping around me to take a position on my other side.

  "Good evening, Ladies," said Ms. Adams.

  "Hello, Marsha," said Ms. Mayer. "It's good to see you." She glanced over at my hand, tucked in Dr. Hart's arm. "How are things at the capitol?"

  "Busy," the senator replied. "But we're all busy women. It can be difficult to keep up with all our responsibilities. Young Ms. Todd here has been struggling to fulfill all her duties, but she has performed quite admirably while balancing competing priorities. I am trying to learn from her example."

  Dr. Hart looked down at my hand tucked in her arm. I hadn't removed it. But then she shifted to the side, moving further away from me, dropping my hand from her arm in the process. I looked down and didn't say anything.

  None of them responded to the senator's comments. Instead, Ms. Hart asked about the senator's work. I listened for a while, paying attention to Ms. Adams as she talked about a trade delegation she had joined. There were more questions, and I stayed for several minutes, but then I quietly slipped away.

  Not a single one of them had even greeted me, and I thought it was likely one of them was White Marble.

  * * * *

  I went in search of a warmer greeting, first amongst the full members of the order, but eventually making my way to join Kiki and Sylvia.