Chapter Twenty-One And yet I see thee still
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
And yet I see thee still
BEFORE I KNEW IT, SEPTEMBER came, and I found myself standing outside Theta House on the night before my twentieth birthday. Voices spilled into the dark, the words drowned by the heavy bass of music.
The Sigmas were the rowdiest in the gathering of people, carelessly manhandling others in line and chanting as they hyped up freshmen for their first frat party. Kasem was among them, again with that silver flask.
He wore tan athleisure sweats and a graphic tee with a Basquiat piece printed on it.
He laughed easily, his drink sloshing from the flask when one of his frat brothers jostled him into doing some weird handshake.
When our gazes met he gave me a little nod, but otherwise, he barely acknowledged my existence among his Sigma brothers.
Vivian’s warning flared in the back of my mind.
I couldn’t help the prickles of annoyance sprouting in me from his easy dismissal.
“You made it!” Honey said. She waved from the front porch.
Beside me, Vivian sighed.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispered.
Yet, nonetheless, we headed toward Honey and climbed the steps.
Honey screamed when she spotted Vivian with me. “And you brought Vivi? Vivi, you never come to these. It’s so great to see you, darling!”
Vivian gave Honey a grim smile as we gathered at the railing.
“Next weekend, when the buses go to town, we must go together. There are some really cute boutiques that opened.”
“I don’t go to town,” Vivian said. “I’d rather stay on campus.”
But Honey was already on to her next target. Me.
“And SiSi, you look cute. But jeans and a crew neck. I know it’s not midnight yet, birthday girl.
But seriously?” She pouted. By the look of her half-finished Solo cup, her sense of volume control had deteriorated over the course of the night, so much so that a few heads turned in our direction, including Kasem’s.
Honey took my arm, leading Vivian and me inside the house.
It was utterly packed. Every inch was people craning against one another for space as we snaked through hallways covered in Theta awards and regalia.
The walls were decorated with framed photos of current members along with alumni who’d graduated years before, probably spanning as far back as the late nineteenth century. One of the photos caught my attention.
It was an old tintype of a group of women standing in front of Theta House in the 1850s.
They wore huge hoopskirts, their dresses pleated, the long sleeves sewn with Theta’s Greek letters.
A few of the women in the photo had dark brown skin, or facial features that looked more racially ambiguous than some of the other pale-skinned women in the tintype.
“Who are they?” I asked, stopping Honey in front of the photo.
It took her a moment to orient herself, her drink sloshing in her cup as she stumbled back to stare at the portrait too.
“Those are Theta’s founding members,” Honey said. She pointed to two of the women at the center of the image, a white woman with curly brown hair and pale skin, and then a dark-skinned Black woman next to her, her own hair just as curly and braided in a crown.
“That’s Evelyn Saint James and Yara Saint James.”
I startled at the mention of Kasem and Jojo’s ancestor.
“Evelyn is from Alaster’s side of the Saint James family.
Westfield was actually one of the few institutions in Virginia that taught freedmen and -women and low-income white students.
Evelyn and Yara were married to the heirs of Westfield, Duncan Saint James and Kent Saint James—Duncan’s half brother.
They were all abolitionists, so when Kent ended up inheriting the school in his father’s will, Evelyn and Yara founded Theta and Duncan and Kent founded Sigma as its abolitionist societies.
Their goal was to fight for emancipation through a social and academic front, and a legislative one too.
Obviously things didn’t, like, turn out the way they wanted, with Virginia seceding from the Union.
But even in the war, when Westfield was ransacked, they kept the secret societies running and did a lot in the war efforts to spy for the Union and undermine the Confederacy. ”
Stunned, I asked, “Why doesn’t Westfield talk about that history more?” Having Greek life that had been created for the abolitionist cause felt like something to celebrate. Not bury in secret.
“We live in Virginia,” Honey said. “But, mostly, the Board doesn’t want to risk losing donor money from—”
“Racists?” I said, finishing the sentence for her.
She grimaced. “Yeah. It’s awful, really. But we try and do our part in Theta to instill that history and important legacy in our members.”
I glanced back at the portrait, from Evelyn, whom Alaster’s family were descendants of, to Yara, Kasem and Jojo’s ancestor.
Both women looked brave and bold in the photo, grinning from ear to ear at the completed construction of Theta House.
On Yara’s dress, it wasn’t just Theta’s Greek letters patched into the fabric, but symbols not so different from the adinkra ones engraved in my mother’s Ankara dress.
Including the same peach pit adinkra that Angelica wore on her gold necklace.
“Let me introduce you to some people,” Honey hummed as we retreated farther into Theta House.
“Oh, and here.” She grabbed a drink that one of the Sigma guys was clearly in the middle of chugging and handed it to me instead, but I shook my head and she downed it herself. The guy was about to flip her off, then realized it was Honey. She blew him a kiss as thanks.
“This is Lena. That’s Remy, and Cecilia’s our chapter president.
Denise—but pronounced like ‘nice’—and oh, Gina’s our finance girlie!
And Sareah—with an e-a-h, though I can never remember the right spelling—is head of our charitable committee.
Molly is our chapter historian, and Renee is our record keeper.
Oh, and obviously there’s me, social chair, of course.
Did I miss anyone? I don’t think I did, but I hope they’ll forgive me if so. ”
The sea of faces came and went, most of which were color variations of the same deep fake tan and dyed blond hair that they pretended was natural. Every once in a while, there’d be a dot of melanin in the crowd. Yet all of them seemed to be in the same miniskirts or crop tops.
“There’s a small group of us in the guest room,” Honey said. She grinned. “But first…”
Before I could stop her, she whisked me away to one of the dorm rooms, where two Theta girls were talking to a few freshmen about rushing. One of the girls was from the fan boat; I was certain that she was the one who’d recognized me as Baby Mozart and tipped off Alaster.
The other freshmen I’d seen at the Rose and Ivy orientation, while one of the Theta girls looked like a junior or senior.
She had warm brown skin and honey-brown eyes, her hair styled in Senegalese twists.
She was dressed in jean shorts and a crop top, while the others donned the miniskirt variation of the outfit.
“Janette,” Honey shouted. “We have a birthday girl!”
Janette, the girl with the twists, squealed. “Makeover! Oh my gosh, she’s so cute,” she said, rushing over to me with her own Solo cup somehow perfectly balanced. “I want to be her Big.”
“What?” Honey said. “I was going to ask first!”
“I’m not rushing,” I said, but they seemed to be in their own world.
“I think I have something she can change into,” Janette said.
She dug through a dresser and pulled out a golden baby doll dress with thin straps and a slit. It was cute, even if it was something I normally wouldn’t be caught dead in during such a chilly night.
Outside, there was a knock on the door.
“We’re starting,” someone said, a man’s voice, and there were a few others with him.
The girls shoved me into a bathroom, and I reluctantly changed, slipping into the dress, which was slightly tight but not too restrictive.
It fell just to my mid-thighs, which meant that I couldn’t bend down much without exposing myself.
I styled my hair quickly, fluffing up my tightly coiled curls so they framed my face with a halo effect that I decided complemented the look.
I was already wearing the dark brown lip liner and gloss combo that I usually wore to parties, and had drawn thick wings for my eyeliner.
When I left the bathroom, I was ambushed by party poppers and someone planting a tiny fun hat on my head.
“Happy birthday!” Honey shouted.
The room exploded with cheers as Theta and Sigma members congratulated me with drinks.
I passed them off to others, ducked when strangers tried to offer me more.
But at some point, Honey and some of the Thetas circled back with handfuls of shots.
I don’t know if I’d been worn down, or if a part of me secretly wanted to give in.
But I threw back a shot and the roar of cheers and the burn of liquor down my throat steeled me.
After the first drink came the second, and by the time I thought I was on my fourth, I realized I’d already lost count.
Every time I drank, they’d start cheering and chanting.
Eventually, I started chanting too, not understanding the words or what they meant, but feeling the warmth of them against the sting of liquor.
The world became a dizzy haze of lights and color and shadowy forms. At some point, I lost Vivian in the crowd, and Honey, Janette, and the gossipy girl from the fan boat were sitting in a circle with me and a bunch of Sigmas.
Once again, a shot was shoved into my hand.
I hadn’t eaten much that day, but now I was swimming through the world. My head was light, my vision a blurry slog, and all the people around me were distortions of themselves. All I could do was laugh and laugh and drink more.
“You all right?” Jojo’s voice said. “You’ve been throwing those back like water.”