“Maybe she got busy with something important. I’ll bet one of the other ladies on the staff had to fill in as housekeeper. Maybe Miss Pearl didn’t know the bathroom was a wreck. I don’t know much of the goings-on in that House, but I bet that’s what happened.”
“You should make it a point to know what goes on,Wilda.Not only are you an alum, but you’re a Rush Advisor now. Not to mention your daughter is a new member.”
I’m not a Rush Advisor for long,I think. I would have resigned by now if it weren’t for the turmoil in the House—Carla leaving, Miss Ophelia dying. But I’ll be sending my resignation email within the week. “I simply meant I don’t know about the daily coming and going of the staff. Of course, I care about anything that has to do with Ellie,Lilith.”
“Having someone from a poor black neighborhood, with no college degree, as House Director of Alpha Delta Beta haseverythingto do with Ellie. She belongs to the finest sorority on campus.”
I want to take her damn head off. But instead I close my eyes and count toten, backward. After a deep breath I say, “Think about it. Many of us Southerners over the age of, what, forty-five had black ladies as second mothers. What’s the difference?”
If an eye roll has a sound, she just made it. First atsk,then a gurgle from the back of her throat makes me feel like I’ve said the dumbest thing on record.
“The House Director job”—her voice sounds ultra condescending—“is much more than a second mother. It’s about responsibility. She has to liaison with the University and assist in setting up inspections, work with local vendors, recommend repairs and maintenance, manage the staff, plan the meals, order the food. All within a complicated budget. She runs the entire House.”
“How do you know Miss Pearl can’t do all that? From what I understand she’s been there twenty-five years.”
“She’sthe maid.And she doesn’t have a college degree. Think about it. There are no other black House Directors at Ole Miss in sororitiesorfraternities. As a matter of fact, I’ve never heard about a black House Director at any other university. Why do you think that is?”
“I think that’s ridiculous. If the person is qualified she should get the job. Regardless of the color of her skin.”
“I never said anything about the color of her skin being the reason. I said she doesn’t have a college degree.”
“Yes you did. You just said there are no other black House Directors at Ole Miss.”
She’s playing with her hair, looking out the window. From where I’m sitting, I can see her breathing accelerate. After a few moments she turns and looks me at me with ireful eyes. “She isunqualified, Wilda. Our bylaws require that she have a college degree. End of story.”
“But we could amend the bylaws if we found a candidate with all the other necessary qualifications. Surely.”
“Are you honestly telling me you’re okay with this?”
With my eyes locked on hers I say, “I’m not only okay with it. I’m one hundred percent behind it. Miss Pearl is smart, dedicated, organized,polite,witty, and a great influence—not only on the Alpha Delts as a whole, but, more important, on our own daughters. I haven’t noticed one thing that would tell me she’s not qualified.”
Shetsks again. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree. Obviously we place different values on a college education.”
My pulse is throbbing in my temples and my poor heart is trying desperately to leap out of my chest. I vowed to stay calm, but now it’s impossible. I had a feeling that’s where she was headed, but actually hearing her say these things has made me sick, and sad, and frankly this is where the rubber meets the road, as my grandmother liked to say. You either stand up for what’s right, or you don’t. My wuss has morphed into a warrior. “I have to be honest with you, Lilith. I don’t care about the color of her skin. I am not a prejudiced person.”
Lilith gasps.
The dead air stretches on for an excruciating thirty seconds while the hair on my arms stands straight up.
“I am not a prejudiced person, either,” she finally says. “For your information, I have given plenty of our hard-earned money to blacks. Have you forgotten I employ a black woman in my own home?”
“No, I have not. I—”
“And—for yourfurtherinformation—after Katrina hit, our church took up a special donation for the poor black people of the Lower Ninth Ward.I”—she taps on her chest several times—“was the very first person to stand up in front of the congregation and lead the way to the collection box.”
Lilith’s stab of pathos hits me harder than it should. I’ve heard of people snapping over the small stuff, but this comment sends me sailing over the edge. “I’m sure you did. As long as you knew people were watching.”
By the look on her face, our friendship, or what she perceived as friendship, has just ended. “I should have never nominated you for the Advisory Board.”
“You’re right. It was your fatal flaw. I know exactly what you did.”
“What are you talking about now, Wilda Woodcock?”
“Your little switcheroo,” I say, holding up my hands and fluttering my fingers.
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Of course you do. I know what you did, Lilith, and so does everyone else on the Rush Committee. We can’t prove it, but we all know.”
