“Come on, let’s get her into bed.” Dean Mother Carver says.
The ladies carry me over to a full–sized bed, and roll me over on my side. I fall into the center of the embroidered salmon covered duvet face up. I close my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at anyone. Maybe if I’m lucky they’ll think I’m knocked out.
“Girls, if Colleen ever decides to wake up, tell her not to move around too much. Her muscles are going to be very stiff for awhile.” Dean Mother Dr. Reed says. “It’d be best if she just slept it off.”
“We’ll tell her.”Marcia replies.
The Dean Mothers and Grand Mother Flowers file out of the room and close the door behind them. Marcia and Abigail sit on the sides of the bed. I feel a rush of wind as a hand brushes across my face.
“You know she’s not unconscious.” Abigail says. “I saw her eyes open a minute ago.”
“Nope, probably embarrassed.” Marcia says. “But not unconscious.”
I don’t know what’s more humiliating, getting served by a bunch of MochaTan Malibu Barbies or knowing I have no secrets from them. “You busted me.” I say opening my eyes.
“You were busted before you even tried this stunt.” Marcia retorts.
“Can I brood and sulk in peace?” I huff.
“No.” Marcia and Abigail say in unison.
I feel my fingers and toes again, but it still hurts too much to move. Dammit, I’m stuck like a rat on a glue trap. I try to look out at the pile of clothes on the foot of the bed to avoid facing them, but Abigail leans over and makes eye contact with me.
“Feeling pretty bad about what happened a few minutes ago?” Abigail asks.
“Yeah, it’s not everyday that I get totally owned by some MochaTan Malibu Barbies.”
If I could move I’d put my hand over my mouth. God, I didn’t mean to say that.
Marcia and Abigail aren’t fazed by my insult. The girls smile at me then laugh heartily.
“We’re MochaTan Malibu Barbies?” Abigail guffaws. “What are you?”
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that–”
“No, you meant to say it.” Abiagil insists. “You think you’re better than us.”
“I don’t think I’m better than you–”
“You are so full of crap Colleen.”Abigail hisses. “Ever since we came to your penthouse you’ve been acting like a brat.”
“Look, I try to treat everyone equally–”
“Except MochaTan Malibu Barbies.” Abigail retorts.
“Abby–”
“No, Marcy. I’m going to tell Ms. Colleen about herself. You think because you go to NYU and study some closet lesbian’s interpretation of history you think you can judge me? Fuck you.”
Abigail reaches over to my pile of clothes at the foot of the bed and pulls my purse out from under my hat. She takes out my glasses and puts them on. “Now that I have your attention, why don’t you take a look at yourself how other people see you Ms. Colleen Anderson.”
Abigail takes off her hat and her suit coat and throws them on the bed across from mine. As she pulls her silk shell out of her skirt, she pastes a surly expression on her face and shrugs her shoulders. “I’m Colleen Anderson feminist pseudo-intellectual from NYU.” She mocks. “I like to brag about my 3.99 GPA and how I’m so smart I can do everything all by myself. When it really is I think I’m so much better than everyone that they’re beneath me.”
Ouch. Didn’t anyone ever tell her that smacking a girl upside the ego is worse than kicking a guy in the nuts? I really hate seeing the truth about myself. Now I realize why I don’t like my Aunt Margaret. I’m turning into her.
“I’ll just act all surly and stank and put up with pledging The Theta House out of obligation even though I feel sororities are sexist and demeaning and the people there are a bunch of airheaded Mocha Tan Malibu Barbies.” Abigail rants as she marches around. “Who the hell are you to judge me?”
“I’m not judging you–”
“Why don’t you shut up and learn something about yourself Ms. Smart Ass.”
Her words hit me in the gut like a fist. I didn’t know the way I was acting affected her that way. I just thought we didn’t have anything in common. I must have really hurt her feelings for her to explode like this.
I just stay silent as Abigail continues on in her mockery of me. “Yes, Ms. Smart–Ass Colleen Anderson. The chick who hides behind these damn glasses that make me look like I’m smart. When in reality it masks the fact that I’m a pretentious bitch who dresses up in T–shirts and jeans patronizing poor people by trying to pretend I’m like everyone else. I’ll say to myself that I want to make people feel comfortable. When it’s I want to keep people away from me because I’m afraid of them getting close to me and finding out who I really am.”
“No one wanted to talk to me in school. They froze me out. I felt if I did things to fit in they’d like me–”
There’s a long silence. God, I didn’t mean to say that. Just when she was mocking me it brought a lot of old memories from school to the surface.
“White people rejected you in the past, so now you reject everyone before they can reject you. Yeah, you treat everyone fairly.” Abigail snarls.
“I’d say she’s an equal opportunity offender.” Marcia retorts.
“It was the only way to stop people from hurting me–”
I feel tears coming down my face. I don’t know what’s worse being tasered by an old lady, carried to my suite by all the sisters or being shown the truth about myself by Big Sisters my own age.
Abigail sits on the side of the bed, picks, me up, and gives me a hug. When I realize that she really cares about me, I just lose it. Seventeen years of pain I suppressed from every time I was shunned, ignored and mistreated by White girls at private school come out of me as tears stream down my face. I think about how I always prayed to God when I was little to send me Black girls to be my friends. Now when He blesses me with them, I treat them like this.
Abigail wipes the tears from my eyes and eases me back down on the bed. I look up at her distorted reflection of me and the guilt hits me hard. If that’s who I really am I’m a hypocrite.
“And you don’t see how you’re hurting yourself.” Abigail pleads.
“No one wanted me around–”
“We wanted to be your friend Colleen.” Marcia says. “When I first saw you at the penthouse I thought we were going to hit it off.”
“But you wouldn’t let us get close to you.” Abigail continues. “You just put up this wall.”
“I thought we didn’t have anything in common–”
“You know, the pink polyester dress and plastic shoes that you put on me would fit on you.” Abigail quips.
Please stop hitting me in the ego. It hurts too much. I get it, I’m not better than you. And we’re more alike than I thought. “I’m not a Black Barbie–”
“And neither am I.”Abigail retorts. If you had given us a chance you’d have found that out.”
“The way you dress just set me off–”
“You think we dress like this all the time?” Marcia says. “We dressed up for you.”
“So many people have made sacrifices to help you out this summer Colleen.” Abigail continues. “I gave up a paid internship with IBM to be here. And Marcy walked away from a paying internship at Travelers Group.”
Man, those were some big opportunities that could have jump–started their careers. It makes me feel even more guilty about the way I treated them. Knowing that they were willing to put so much at risk to support me makes me realize what an ungrateful brat I am. I’d beat my own ass if it didn’t hurt so much.
“You could have been on your way after working there–”
“But helping you meant more to us than that.” Marcia says taking my hand. “Jobs come and go, but a bond with a Sister is until death.”
“You guys don’t know me. Why would you care about me so much?”
“God wants us to love our n
eighbors as ourselves.”
“We wouldn’t be good neighbors if we didn’t try to help you.”Marcia replies.
“I just wish help didn’t have to hurt so much.”
“Hey, pain is the only way you can grow.” Marcia retorts.
“Look at it this way. You’re not dead. You can only get stronger after this.” Abigail teases.”
I’m hurting so bad I hope that’s true. “Every one of us has been where you’ve been.” Abigail continues. “I was the only Black girl in quite a few private schools myself.”
“And I hadn’t seen another Black person until I went to college.” Marcia says.
“I bet you have some stories about the cafeteria.” I say.
“I could write a book or two alone about gym class.” Marcia retorts. “I still can’t watch an episode of The Brady Bunch till this day.”
Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. With her name and the articulate way she speaks I can imagine the teasing she got through the years from all the Jan Bradys in school.
“But as much as I was hurting in school, I realized I couldn’t cut myself off from people.” Abigail continues. “These walls you’ve built kept the bad people out are keeping the good people like us from coming in.”
“We can’t help you as long as you stay in that ivory tower.” Marcia pleads. “You’re gonna have to come out of there.”
I take their hands. When I feel them closing their grip on them I know they’ve taken my olive branch. “You’re giving me another chance?”
“God forgives you for your sins and I forgive you for being a jackass.” Abigail teases patting my head.
“Yeah, we can’t stay mad at you.” Marcia says tickling my stomach.
Ouch. Guess they still have some residual pain. But I can take the punch.
“You want us to get your pajamas?” Abigail asks putting my glasses on the night table.
As much as I’d love the help of my sisters in giving me back some of my dignity, it would hurt too much to put them on. Colleen’s sleeping au natural tonight.
“Nah, I’m alright.” I say.
“We’re gonna turn in. You want anything?”
A big tub of ice would be nice, but if I asked for it I might just get it. On my head. “Nah, I’m cool.”
Marcia and Abigail hop off my bed and walk over to a chest of drawers to get out their nightgowns. I close my eyes and give them some privacy as they change into their bedclothes. When they finish dressing, they walk over to the bed and playfully pat me on the head before retiring.
“Goodnight Colleen.” Abigail says as she hops into the bed next to mine.
“Hey, my friends call me Col.”
“Goodnight Col.” Marcia says turning out the light.
Chapter 15
The soreness in my muscles ebbs. I feel my arms and legs again and put my hands behind my head and cross my ankles. As the red lights of the clock on the night table broadcast 12:39 I reflect on my first day in the Theta House. Pledging these Sisters is nothing like I ever expected it to be.
Man, I got my ass kicked. And as much as it hurt I learned something about myself. Seeing myself the way my Sisters perceive me, I have to ask myself: Is this who I really want to be? A coward who hides behind glasses, baggy T–shirts, and jeans? A woman who uses her intellectualism and feminism as a way to make herself appear superior at the expense of others? A woman so wrapped up in her cold logic she can’t even consider the feelings of others? Because if that’s what I’m presenting to the world, then all I’d be is a smarter, bitchier dressed–down version of my Aunt Margaret.
And I don’t want to be like my aunt. She’s so busy judging everyone else’s flaws that she can’t see her own. And while she looks down her nose at everyone from her ivory tower, the sad part is that she doesn’t see how much they look up and pity her.
Tonight was a real wake–up call. I had no idea I’d become so emotionally numb. I was so busy drowning in my sorrows I couldn’t see people reaching for me and trying to throw me a life preserver. I’m going to reach out to them so I can share their love.
I catch the silhouette of the pile of clothes sitting at the foot of the bed as I fall into a somnolent state. I’m still not comfortable with that Colleen, but she’s working towards becoming a better person than the woman I used to be.
Chapter 16
CLANG–A–LANG! CLANG–A–LANG!
The sounds of cowbells jangling jolt me out of sleep. I stir up to find my bed surrounded by Grand Mother Flowers, The Dean Mothers, and my Big Sisters dressed in their suits, heels, and church hats.
“WAKE UP PLEDGE!” Dean Mother Carver barks poking at my back.
I rub the coal out of my eyes and stir out of a daze. “GET UP GIRL!” Grand Mother Flowers shouts nudging my shoulder.
“COME ON GET UP PLEDGE! Dean Mother Dr. Reed Orders.
I get my mental faculties together and stagger out of bed. As I get to my feet, I’m hurried out of the suite, down the hall, and rushed down a flight of carpeted stairs. Cold tiles shock my bare feet; I catch the glimpse of a high–end kitchen as I’m rushed through a pair of glass French doors past some patio furniture on a wood deck. I feel grass between my toes then the grit of concrete and smell chlorinated water.
While the morning air wakes me up, the sisters pause. I hear a chain jangling as a cold steel shackle is attached to my right ankle. As I peer down to notice a ball and chain attached to my right leg, handcuffs are locked on my wrists. I look out at the clear blue water in the huge swimming pool and wonder what they’ve got in store for me.
Dean Mother Carver gets my attention. “A Theta Woman must prove capable of adapting and surviving in the most perilous of situations. As we trouble this water we have to ask: Will the Pledge sink or will she swim?”
I look at the handcuffs on my wrists and my eyes grow wide. “You’re gonna drown me?”
“That’s your choice Pledge.” Dean Mother Carver replies. “At the bottom of this pool are the keys to your escape. If you choose to find them, swim to the shallow end of the pool and step out.”
The sign near my toes says the water here is sixteen feet deep. That ball on my ankle has to weigh at least forty pounds. I’m five–seven barefoot and that water is three times as tall as I am standing up. Doing the math I’m screwed. If I can’t get this shackle off my leg in less than three minutes I’m a dead woman.
The Dean Mothers drop the ball into the water without warning. I tumble into the cold water with a splash before I can get a moment to take a breath or come up with a strategy.
I let gravity take me to the bottom of the pool running my little math equation in my head. I should have done a rough estimate of how long the chain was instead of panicking. Assessing it now, it’s a short chain about two feet long. I don’t think I’m going to make it from one end of the pool to the other without getting it off.
The human body can go three minutes without air underwater. I probably have less than that since I didn’t take a big gulp before I fell in. I scan the floor of the pool looking for anything out of place. I spot something silvery on the floor of the pool. I reach towards it and notice it’s a key. I can’t get a grip on it. Dammit it’s welded to the floor!
I should have known it’d be a trick, nothing is ever that easy. There has to another one down here somewhere. I spot another metal looking object in the far distance on the floor of the pool. I try to swim towards it but with my hands cuffed in front of me and one leg on lockdown, I can’t paddle anywhere.
Come on Col, don’t panic. Don’t give up either. Knowing the Dean Mothers that key on the other side of the pool is probably a fake too. And your Sisters wouldn’t throw you in a pool completely naked, handcuffed, and locked to a ball and chain without a way out. This has to be part of a plan; they stripped your body because they want you to use your mind. So show them how smart you really are.
I examine the ball shackled to my ankle. I probably have about a minute or a minute and a half of air left. If I c
an get this ball off my leg, I can have the legs to start pushing myself to the surface if it gets dicey with the handcuffs.
I start a countdown in my head as I examine the ball for anything that shouldn’t be there. Solid cast iron. The links of the chain look pretty solid too. I feel the shackle on my ankle and find a trick button just next to where the chain connects. When I press it, the shackle pops off my ankle. I feel my chest tightening, I have to find out where the latch is for these handcuffs before I drown.
My heart races as I feel for anything unusual on the surface of the handcuffs. I soon find a button that pops the cuff off my left wrist. Then I find the right one. As the handcuffs fall to the floor of the pool, I twist and I push my legs and arms as fast as I can propelling myself to the surface. As I climb, I hear the cheers of my Sisters; when my head breaks the surface of the water those cheers turn into roars of praise.
I swim towards the shallow end of the pool where a series of stairs are located. As I get my footing, I grab the handrails and step out of the pool where the Dean Mothers are waiting to greet me with smiles and a towel.
“Congratulations Colleen.” Grand Mother Flowers says. “You’ve just learned how to overcome adversity.”
“No help from you guys. Those keys are welded to the bottom of the pool!”
Dean Mother Carver smiles at me slyly. “I didn’t say that there were keys to the handcuffs or the ball and chain at the bottom of the pool. I said you’d find the key to your escape at the bottom of the pool.”
Chapter 17
I ponder the riddle in the answer about finding the key to my escape. They got me. And they got me good.
I’m feeling pretty good about beating the Theta sink or swim challenge. After getting my butt handed to me last night, this morning’s little victory is the shot in the arm I needed to rebuild my shaken confidence.
The cool morning air sends a chill throughout my body as water from the pool evaporates against my skin. I really should get rinsed off before this chlorine ruins my hair. But I think I can take a moment to celebrate with my Sisters.