Hidden Scars (2 page)

A knock interrupted my thoughts. “Morgan, are you in there?”

Becky’s voice. I smiled and invited her in. “Hey, where’s Mimi Clair?”

“Downstairs, waiting on us.” Becky tugged on my arm. “Come on, get your purse.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Exploring. We’re going to walk every square inch of this campus.”

And, in spite of the heat, the three of us set out. My eyes wanted to take it all in. The vibrant red geraniums and pink petunias. The buildings constructed of red brick or cinder blocks. Cracks etched in the mortar. Ivy growing up the walls gave the campus a sense of charm. A smile stretched across my face. I stood tall and straight and took each step with ease. Somewhere deep inside me, hope stirred.

Mimi turned to face us as she walked backward. “Can you believe it? The three of us? Here? In college? We’ve entered a new stage in our life. No longer teenagers. We’re adults now.” She squinted then shielded her eyes from the sun. “Do you ever wonder where we’ll be in four years? What we’ll be doing?”

“I’m not sure.” Becky slowed her pace and twirled a strand of her blonde hair with her finger. “Finishing college is part of my plan, for sure, but so is becoming the wife of a certain somebody we all know.” Her big, blue eyes twinkled with a naughty glint. “The question is: which will come first?”

Mimi huffed aloud before turning to me. “How about you, Morgan? Where do you see yourself in four years?”

I’d learned not to allow my mind to wonder too far ahead or share my hopes and dreams with anyone—not even friends. “The only thing I can think about right now is my stomach. I’m starving. Why don’t we find our way back to the cafeteria and have an early supper?”

We changed our course and hurried back the way we’d come. The wonderful smells of fresh yeast bread, cooked onions, and roast beef beckoned us. By the time we arrived, I was salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

“Look at all the people.” Mimi craned around me in line. “I thought we’d be the first ones here.”

“It’s okay. Looks like the lines are moving fast enough. Besides, there’s no place else to eat.” My stomach rumbled.

“Sure there is.” A girl in front of us turned around with a swish of her ponytail. “If you want a change and some really good food, Eddie’s Restaurant is right across the street from the Administrations Office. They serve hamburgers the size of dinner plates. And their french fries come in a breadbasket. The foot-long chilidog’s my favorite. Y’all should try it sometime.”

“Hey thanks.” Becky eyed the string of people ahead of us then faced me and Mimi Clair. “It sounds like a fun place. Maybe we should go.”

“Now?” I gulped. I couldn’t afford to eat anywhere other than the cafeteria. My parents made it clear. There’d be no help from them. All I had were the scholarships, the work program, and the money I’d saved.

Becky snickered. “Well you’re the one ‘starving.’ I thought a good juicy hamburger—”

Shattering dishes interrupted. Laughter rang out. Near the front tables a tall, well-built guy bowed with one arm held in front of his waist, the other one in back, and food splattered all over his Levis. He then stood, laughing and waving at his audience while several cute girls and a worker picked up the scattered mess.

My face burned for him. He must be so embarrassed. I knew firsthand how to mask pain with humor.

“Who is that?” Mimi asked the girl with the ponytail.

“That bumbling klutz is our star linebacker. He plays a mean game, but graceful and smart he’s not.”

I cringed and remembered my own mother’s words after I misspelled yet another word from the second grade speller. “She’s too dumb. She’ll never make
A
’s like her brother and sister,” she stated as I mopped my own urine from the floor while Dad threaded his belt through his pant loops.

And I didn’t. No matter how hard I tried or how severe the punishment.

“Here!” Mimi shoved her purse against my chest. “You girls hold my place in line while I see if the poor boy needs some more help.”

When I returned to my room, a girl stood in the far corner hanging clothes in the other closet. She looked me over. “You must be my roommate. I’m Paige MacArthur.”

“Hey, I’m Morgan.”

Paige sauntered across the room with her head held high and her shoulders back. Not in a snobbish way, but very mature for her age. She stood at least five feet eight, a good six inches taller than me. She spoke in a quiet voice but not timid at all. “I got here later than planned. I guess what I don’t finish unpacking can wait until after the meeting.”

“What meeting?”

“The mandatory meeting with our dorm mother. Didn’t you read the note? It was in your packet.”

“I haven’t looked at it yet.”

“Don’t worry. It doesn’t start until seven, and I’ll show you where to go.” She reached for another hanger. “This is my second year at Midway. I know how overwhelming it can be at first, but you’ll get used to things. And you’ll love Mrs. Henderson.”

“Who?”

“Mrs. Henderson—the dorm mother.”

My stomach fluttered like I’d eaten a swarm of butterflies. I couldn’t help but think about the conversation between my mother and the woman I was about to meet.

“Ready, Morgan?” Much too soon Paige asked.

The bedside clock showed six forty. “Do I have time to use the restroom?”

“Yes, but you need to hurry. We shouldn’t be late.”

By the time we arrived, all seats had been taken. Several girls sat on the floor, so we joined them.

An overweight, white-haired woman with deep dimples sat in a chair in front of the room, laughing and talking with some of the girls. At precisely seven o’clock, she stood, clapped her hands, and raised her voice. “Girls, may I have your attention? Quiet please. Our meeting tonight will be brief, I know many of you have put in a long day, and we all could use a good night’s sleep. Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Mrs. Ruth Henderson. I’ve been at Midway Junior College for three years, and I’m proud to say, I’m the mother of two grown daughters. Being a parent brings me the greatest pleasure in life. My love for young ladies is the reason I continue to work in this capacity. Know my door is always open to you all.”

She seemed nice enough. Still, I wondered about her sincerity. But it didn’t matter. Through the years, I’d built a protective wall around myself, and not many people were allowed in.

“All doors,” she continued, “will be locked and the alarms set at eight o’clock on Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday. Rooms will be checked at nine by girls designated as dorm monitors. All other nights, you must be in the dorm no later than ten and in your room by eleven. Anyone found out of their room after hours, will be written up. The first offense receives a warning. The second time you’ll meet with me. If there’s a third violation, the Dean of Women will become involved, along with your parents or guardians. Once the doors are locked, they will not be opened until six the following morning. Any girl leaving the campus at any time must sign out in this.” She held up a wire-ringed, black notebook. “It is to be kept at the lobby desk at all times. You’ll find a complete list of rules in the packet you received earlier today. Now, are there any questions?”

Several hands shot up. A pretty brunette asked, “Are we not allowed out of our rooms to use the bathroom?”

“Of course, but there will be no showering or brushing teeth after hours.”

A tall girl in the back asked, “What if something unforeseen comes up? Can we call and let you know we’re on our way?”

“Yes, by all means. But remember the rule. Anyone not in the dorm after the doors are locked will immediately be reported to the Dean of Women, who will notify your parents at once.”

Girls began whining and complaining. One girl huffed, “Why don’t they put us in prison and throw away the key?”

It was the sixties, and this college, located in the Deep South, took their responsibility for each of us seriously. To me, after all the oppression I’d suffered, this would be a cakewalk.

“Quiet girls, I know these rules may not meet with everyone’s approval, but if you desire to live on campus, they must be followed. Now, I want you to know who your dorm monitors are.”

When she called my name, I stood with the other five girls, smiled, and held my sweaty hands together, hoping no one could sense my apprehension. When she looked straight at me, my heart skipped a beat. What did my mother tell her? I shivered. Every move I made would be scrutinized, analyzed, and reported.

Well, at least I was forewarned. I’d be careful. There was one thing in my life neither she nor my parents could find out. Not yet.

The next morning radios blared up and down the hall, belting out the sounds of The Beatles, Johnny Cash, Elvis, and some others I didn’t recognize. The block walls may as well have been curtains, the noise penetrated with ease.

Paige threw back her bed linens. “So much for sleeping in.”

“Will it be like this every morning?”

“I’m afraid so. A serene atmosphere and dorm life don’t coexist.”

“Well, at least we won’t have to worry about being late for class.” I yawned and punched the stem on my clock before the alarm went off.

With toiletries in hand, I made the short walk to the community bathroom where a fog of steam, perfume, hairspray, and other frou-frous sent me into a coughing fit. With so many girls, the room was close. Too close. And none of the lines seemed to be moving.

A tall blonde folded her arms across her chest and peered over the line. “If you’re not cleaning your teeth, face, or hands, carry it back to your room gals.”

A redhead stood at a lavatory with a head full of rollers. She turned and waved her toothbrush in the air. “Says who?”

“Look, I don’t want to fight, but there are sixty-two girls on this floor. This is not the place to primp, pluck, or polish,” the blonde firmly stated.

“You tell her, Pat,” a voice cheered the blonde on.

Dorm monitor or not, at five two and 101 pounds, I’d let Pat, I believe they called the blonde, and the girl waving the toothbrush work this one out themselves. I edged away from Pat as they faced off. The next twenty seconds got pretty tense until, finally, the redhead rinsed her mouth, spit, picked up her belongings, and left.

By the time I made it back to the room, Paige walked out with towel and washcloth in hand.

“Good luck in there. I don’t think all the rules have been clearly defined yet.”

“Everybody’ll get into the swing of things in a few days,” she assured me before heading down the hall.

At last, a private moment. I scrambled into my clothes. Then I approached the mirror and attempted to brush my frizzy hair, which, in this muggy August air, surrounded my head rather than flowed from it like everyone else’s. “Forget it.” I tossed the hairbrush in the top drawer, convinced more than ever my grandfather was right.

“You’ve got cain’t-cha don’t-cha hair,” he used to tease. “Can’t you comb it and don’t you try.” Then he’d laugh.

But today was worse than ever. I secured the bushy heap with a headband. Still, I cringed over the image assessing me. Too many months of working at the city pool, exposed to sun and chlorine, bleached my long hair until it looked and felt like straw. Add to the mix, my lack of makeup, since Mom and Dad didn’t allow it, and I felt like an odd duck around so many well-manicured girls.

I picked up books, paper, and pencil when someone called my name from the hallway. “Morgan Selby, you’re wanted on the phone.”

Paige opened the door then leaned back toward the hall and shouted, “Yeah, she’s still here.”

I’d not given Janet the phone number yet, which only left one possibility. Rubbing my sweaty palms together, I took small strides toward the phone room.

My fingers gripped the dangling receiver. “Hello?”

“What do you mean taking all those dresses I rehung in your closet? You’re such a conniving little wench. Well, you can bring them—every one—home this weekend, and we’ll have a nice long talk. I think your father will help you understand and see things a lot clearer. Don’t you?”

“I can’t come home this weekend…I’m working.”

“Doing what?”

“The dorm mother asked me to help with a special project. There are forms and other paperwork that needs completing.”

“Well, we’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll give her a call. You better remember what I told you, young lady. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I spoke to dial tone.

I’d become a liar. I was fearful of my parents finding out and the consequences, but what about God? He knew.

I clasped the receiver with both hands.
I’m sorry. But I can’t go home. You know what happens there.

“Where were you this morning, Morgan?” Mimi folded her arms across her chest. “I thought we’d agreed to meet for breakfast. We went to your room and even looked for you in the bathroom. Becky and I barely had time to eat ourselves after spending so much time searching for you.”

“I’m sorry, Mimi. Something came up.”

“What, pray tell?”

“Mimi, you sound exactly like your mother,” Becky scolded her roommate. “Don’t pay her any attention, Morgan. Hey, we’re headed over to Eddie’s as soon as we dump our books. We can meet you back here in the lobby. Wanna come?”

“Maybe another time. I need to talk with Mrs. Henderson about something.”

I stopped by the dorm mother’s apartment and tapped lightly on the door. Life is sure strange. Twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t want her to know my name. Now, I stood minutes away from entering her apartment and having a regular conversation.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Henderson…uh…my name is Morgan Selby.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, ma’am. I wondered if we could talk?”

“Certainly.” She held the door open wide. “Come in. What’s on your mind?” She turned off the radio and gestured to the sofa. “Please, have a seat.”

I took a slow, deep breath then forced a smile. “Mrs. Henderson, I wondered if you had some extra work for me. Not for pay or anything. You see, I’ll be staying in the dorm most weekends, and extra work would help pass the time.”