“You almost finished, Chlo? We NEED to drop these off ASAP!” shouted Tiffany from across the hall.
“Ugh. For the love of God, NO! This is the fifth time you’ve asked in 15 minutes! I would be done if you would leave me alone!” Chloe screamed back.
“Excuse me, but I’m just trying to make sure we get this shit turned in on time. Dr. Stevens won’t accept any late submissions. You know she don’t play” Tiffany replied while removing her hair wrap. She slowly sauntered into Chloe’s room and into the adjacent bathroom.
Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry. Did you think I was being sarcastic? I definitely meant ‘Come in’ when I shouted ‘leave me alone.’” The only reason she was working under such pressure was because she was living under one roof with four girls. Four girls and one functioning bathroom, which just so happened to be connected to her room.
The room Chloe was staying in was modest in size, which would have made one think that it would have been cozy. But it had an entirely opposite feeling. The cream area rug that took up the majority of the floor space seemed tattered rather than used. The hardwood floors dull from excessive scrubbing. The room felt like a hospital, with an oppressive, lingering layer of death weighing down on any person who walked in. The poignant smell of disinfectant assaulted any nostril, new or familiar. It was an atmosphere almost impossible to adjust to, but the room seemed to be the house’s nexus. All of the girls gravitated to this room whenever they got the chance. This annoyed Chloe to no end. She wasn’t able to do anything alone. But the company comforted her. She, more than anyone, felt the darkness that inhabited the room.
“Girl, you think Joey will like my hair like this? I think I look good. Real good. Like a True Sister. You think I should get dreads like Evie Shockley?” Five seconds passed without a reply from Chloe.
“Hello??? You hear me?”
“Yeah, definitely. Of course.” Chloe replied automatically. She had come to find that Tiffany could carry any conversation just as long as one was to communicate with her to some degree. Any reply Chloe gave would have been an indicator for Tiffany to continue talking, and Chloe used this to her advantage. Tiffany was a talker. Always a talker.
“I hope so. I feel like I’m embracing my heritage wearing my hair all natural like this. We couldn’t get away with wearing our hair like this anywhere else. It feels so good not having to have my head all glued and stitched up. I used to wish I had hair like you, all locky and silky. All I have are these naps.”
“Embrace your naps. It’s who you are. It’s what kept your people alive as they slaved away under the sun.”
“I know. I know. I'm starting to appreciate them more and more. There’s something about these people, though. Something about the way they’ve stayed loyal to their heritage all this time: the black image. It makes me want to embrace my blackness. And I can actually do that here without feeling self-conscious.”
“At least you know what you are. At least you can distinguish something special about yourself.”
The tension in the room increased as Tiffany fell silent and Chloe’s shoulders dropped. She never knew how to react when Chloe addressed the uncertainty regarding her heritage.
Chloe had been brought up in a foster home not too far from Ruby. Growing up, the only thing that Chloe knew about her parents was that her mother was brutally murdered. The nuns provided no explanation and would not tolerate any of her pleas to know more, causing her to grow to hate the nuns and anyone who seemed to have a happily ever after. Chloe knew this wasn’t a possibility for her. She began to see institutions as vehicles for oppression and promised herself she’d always fight for truth and freedom.
“Honestly, sometimes I think you’re better off, Chlo. You represent something above all of this. Making distinctions is what leads to ideas of superiority. Discrimination. Segregation. It’s what all of our world’s evils are derived from: differentiation by appearance, class, nationality, religion, sexual orientation, political beliefs, etc. etc. It births destruction. You, on the other hand, symbolize the birth of peace. The birth of unity. The rebirth of the homo sapiens sapiens from the ashes of inequality.”
Chloe couldn’t help the quiver in her lip. A slow smirk spread across her face, which eventually turned into a muffled giggle. “Since when did you get so perceptive and poetic?”
“I told you. I’m trying to channel Shockley.”
Tiffany walked out of the bathroom and to the center of the room where Chloe was at her desk. Resting the majority of her weight on the back of Chloe’s chair, Tiffany hovered over her shoulder. “How much more do you have left?” she asked before seeing that Chloe was only on page 20 out of 160.
“Wow, girl. What have you been doing? You’re no where near done!” Tiffany asked while gazing at the reflection of herself in the computer screen. She started messing with her hair again, trying to get it to look as much like twisties as possible.
“I’ve been working! You keep distracting me though.”
“Fine, fine.” Tiffany replied. “I’ll let you be.”
Tiffany walked across the room and back into the hallway quietly as to not to disturb Chloe any further. Tiffany closed the door behind her, and then all was quiet.
“Ah, finally some peace” Chloe said as she exhaled and repositioned herself to get down to business.
