The lady’s eyes cut to me. “You’re Daisy Payton from Green Valley,” she said staring, incredulous.
Oh God. Did anything good ever come from anyone staring you dead in the face and asking you to confirm your identity? What did they think, that you were a liar? Were they disappointed that you were you?
I stared back at this lady trying to decide if I wanted to be a disappointer or a liar … She was portly and pretty, her eyes were surprised but not unkind.
Better to be honest.
I nodded.
Her cherry red lips broke into the biggest smile, it transformed her face. Where she’d been methodical and all business before, she was warm and open now. I realized she was much younger than I’d thought.
“My momma always says the world gets smaller every day! I went to school here years ago with your brother Adolpho! He talked about you all the time. Back then he was the biggest flirt, but that didn’t stop me from having a crush on him.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “Is he here today?” she asked eyes darting past me hopefully.
Dolly opened her mouth and closed it twice so fast that she looked like a fish. Before she could say anything, I cut in. “Nope. Couldn’t make it today but I’ll send your regards.”
“Please do. Tell him Bessie Mitchell said hi,” she said a voice that was a bit dreamy and breathy before she blinked and hastily shoved my envelope into my hands.
“Now you’re top floor—penthouse level we call it. Corner room diagonal to the stairs. Curfew is at eleven, room inspections are on demand, any of the”—she waved about to guys wearing fraternity insignias and ROTC uniforms—“can help you get your stuff upstairs. Complete dorm rules, welcome letter, freshman directory, and maps are in the back of the packet. See your advisor first thing Monday morning to pick your classes. Orientation today at four thirty, parents invited. Freshman mixer starts at six p.m.” She looked at Dolly. “Students only.”
I nodded, clutched the packet a little tighter and tugged Dolly away. I managed to quickly flag down one of the guys dressed in a ROTC uniform to help us get my steamer trunk from Dolly’s car. I could feel my sister boring holes in the back of my head but I continued to smile and didn’t face her.
Yeah … so about those wide open airy spaces in this giant building? Not so much. Maybe folks in the olden days were smaller or maybe they just had less stuff.
My room was small with pale yellow walls, one window on the far wall, two closets, two raised beds, and a single dresser. I’d beaten my roommate there and claimed the bed closest to the window. We’d made quick work of the cleaning and had gotten a good way through the decorating and hanging my clothes before Dolly flopped on the bed and called me to sit next to her.
I knew what was coming next. It was one of my favorite Dolly speeches. It was the “Today You Become a Woman” speech. My conservative guess was I’d become a woman twenty-three times in the last few years. It’d happened when I’d gotten my driver’s license, when I’d gotten asked to the junior prom, when I’d gone to the senior prom, graduation day … you get the drift. Dolly was good with marking milestones with big speeches.
She’d begin gently but I knew it wouldn’t stay gentle for very long, she would poke and pry and try to get me to cry and suddenly I was tired and ready for her to go.
“Do you like your room?” she asked innocuously.
I nodded, because I knew she hated when I nodded. Instead of reacting she simply stared and stared until I said, “Yes, it’s nice, a bit small for two people but I’m sure my roommate will be nice and we will make do,” I said it more hoping than knowing.
Dolly smiled, and then after a moment said, “Don’t be angry with your father …”
I stared at her confused, waiting for her to go on. She seemed to be struggling for words and so I patted her leg reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll write him a letter. Or better yet, I think I saw a payphone at the end of the hall, I’ll call him and tell him I’m not angry he couldn’t make the trip.”
She sighed. “No, Daisy, I know you’re not angry over that.”
There was another pause and she took a deep breath. “Daddy wanted to surprise you. He thought you might be more comfortable in your own room here since you have your own room at home.”
I continued to stare at her. “He called in a favor with one of his friends at the Alumni Association and they made special accommodations for you … someone will be by to collect the extra bed—”
“No,” I said more forcefully than I intended. I wasn’t angry with Dolly.
Although she had kept this from me until now, so maybe I should’ve been. In fact I definitely should’ve been.
“Dolly, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I knew it would make you upset. There is no use trying to change what’s done.”
“No use? Would make me upset? I am way past upset. I don’t want special accommodations. I don’t want my own room. I don’t want to be treated differently,” I hollered.
“Daisy, calm down. This isn’t the end of the world.”
How could I explain that it wasn’t the end of the world, it was a continuation of the same world.
And that was the problem.
I wanted to be Daisy Payton here, not Daisy Payton.
Because Daisy Payton played a mean game of spades, and knew how to cornrow in every direction. She had a natural head for figures, and could even do three digit multiplication in her head. She loved the Temptations and could cut a rug on the dance floor with the best of them. She could bake better than your eighty-five-year-old granny. She studied geography for fun. She got a four-point-oh during the worst year of her life. She was good with potted plants but terrible in the garden; weeds were foes she could not defeat. She’d been kissed twice. Once was awful and once was amazing, so amazing that she did it again, and then again—so really four times, but three of the kisses happened in one session. And she wanted opportunities to roll that fifty-fifty dice again to find out how the next kiss would be.
But Daisy Payton?
Daisy Payton had a powerful father. (That poor man.)
Daisy Payton was a rich girl. (She’s not but it doesn’t matter if people think you are.)
She had a dead brother, who got murdered in Vietnam. (What a useless war.)
Daisy Payton had a mother who was there and then *poof* was gone from breast cancer. (Poor Daisy.)
Daisy Payton went from rich girl to poor girl. Poor little rich girl that everyone looked at with pity.
And she hated it.
She hated that everyone, everyone thought they knew her.
She hated the assumption that if they hurt with her, or worse, for her, then it made the pain better, as if that made it the entire community’s pain; when it absolutely didn’t.
She hated that she still read and reread the letters from her brother. Some of the pages had wrinkles from being crumpled in fits of anger because oh, she was so angry when he left. And then she felt guilty and stupid and horrified that she’d almost destroyed his letters when they were all that was left. Some were starting to show signs of age, yellow in some spots and the ink fading in others, and she hated that too because how could so much time have passed without him?