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The final had a total of one hundred
questions, divided mostly among multiple choice, true/false and short-answer
facts about the works studied. The last question, though, was an essay question
on the controversy surrounding gender roles and norms in the seventeenth
century. If I hadn't been seated, I'd have jumped for joy when I saw that. This
was something I knew about first-hand.

My early upbringing had been rooted in the
same roles and norms, despite the fact that it was three centuries later. I had
two hours to complete the test, so I gave myself an hour to answer the other
questions and an hour to wow the professor with my insights into the mind of a
seventeenth century housewife.

When I had finished, he kindly offered to
grade the test immediately, so I'd be able to pick up the new class after only
two missed days. I sat quietly and watched as he went rapidly down the answer
sheet, ticking off one or two of the answers, before turning to the essay. As
he read, his expression changed from skepticism to surprise, then intense
interest. When he had finished, he looked up and asked, "Have you lived a
past life, my dear?"

"What? No, er, at least I don't think
so. Why?" I was so startled by the question I forgot even to be respectful
to the older man.

"Astonishing insight, I'd say. Well,
you have changed my mind. I wish I were going to have the opportunity to have
you in my class, Ms. Nielsen, you would likely enliven the discussions.
However, you have passed. In fact, I'd say this will earn you top marks in the
class. Well done. I'll inform your adviser tomorrow."

It was all I could do to keep from skipping
up and hugging the man, but he seemed a bit too conservative for that. I
settled for thanking him profusely and telling him if I selected a subject that
he taught in a later year, I'd be sure to choose his class over any other. Then
I literally ran for the dorm to tell Ri the good news.

~~~

For my new English class, I chose a
sophomore-level lecture class on William Faulkner. I felt it only polite to
explain why I was entering the class late after the first session, but when I
laid eyes on him, Professor Justin Mackey took my breath away. I knew I'd make
a fool of myself if I approached him, so I abandoned my plan and hoped he wouldn't
notice a new student among the fifty or so who were already enrolled.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. If I'd
been casting for a play or a portrait of Adonis, he would have been perfect.
Dr. Mackey wasn't exceptionally tall, only about five-eleven or six feet I
estimated. His hair was chestnut-brown, worn long over his ears and neckline,
and tousled as if he'd just gotten out of bed, a thought that sent a forbidden
thrill to my core. I was too far away to see his eye color, but imagined it to
be a dark brown that matched his hair.

Dr. Mackey's lecture was fascinating, and I
realized I would need to find out what the previous assignments had been, to
catch up. Debating whether I should risk becoming a babbling idiot by asking
him or asking my neighboring student, I opted for the coward's way and spoke to
my neighbor.

"He's just had us read the first three
stories in the collection," she answered. "Would you like my notes on
the lectures you missed?"

"Wow, would I ever!" I exclaimed,
happy to have found someone friendly and studious. "I'll get them back to
you next lecture, okay?"

"That's fine. Do you have a class
right after this one, or would you like to get a coffee?" she asked.

"I'm Janey, and I'd love to get a
coffee."

"Alicia; it's a date," she smiled.
And, just like that, I had a new friend. Since I was used to a big,
closely-knit family, having two friends didn't seem like nearly enough, but it
was a start. After class, Alicia and I strolled over to the Student Union for
our coffee. I learned that she was a sophomore, and she learned that I was a
freshman.

"How'd you pull off getting into Dr.
Mackey's class your first semester?" she asked. "Didn't you have too
many prerequisites to fit it in?"

"Well, I had an opportunity to take
the final for English Lit Survey 101, and I passed it, so they let me pick what
to replace it with," I explained. I wasn't sure whether what I'd done was
normal or whether I'd had a special privilege. If the latter, I didn't want to
make a big deal of it. But, Alicia widened her eyes and dropped her mouth in an
exaggerated 'O'.

"You must have some serious lit
background," she said. "Is it your major?"

"Yes." Unless I missed my guess,
I knew what came next, and I wasn't ready to share the rest of my background.
My one-word answer seemed to shut down that line of inquiry, though. I filled
the gap by asking hers.

"I'm Theater Arts. Taking Dr. Mackey's
class was a brilliant stroke on my part, I have to say. Of course, the subject
matter is important, but his delivery is teaching me plenty about stage
blocking and a whole lot more. He's gorgeous, isn't he?"

"Sure is. Do you know anything about
him, his personal life I mean?" Alicia pounced on the question right away.

"Oho, going straight for the A in his
bed, huh? You may have competition," she warned.

"You mean, professors give good grades
if you sleep with them? How is that fair?" I asked, indignant. Alicia sat
up and leaned back, regarding me as if unable to believe what I'd just asked.

"Of course! How do you think those
blonde bimbo cheerleaders ever pass a course? Nothing personal," she added
as I bristled at the blonde bimbo remark. I was blonde, but I didn't think I
was a bimbo if that meant someone who slept with teachers for grades.

Alicia went on, "So, you really are
interested in him? Then I'll tell you, he's divorced, no children, but he's got
a rep on campus of being a player. Better be careful."

"Thanks, Alicia, I really mean
that." I thanked Alicia for the coffee, her notes and most of all her
advice about Dr. Mackey, and headed for my next class.

That night I transcribed Alicia's notes
into my iPad notes and re-read Falkner's short stories to catch up to the
class. Alicia took excellent notes, very readable, and I was happy to gain some
insights into the way Dr. Mackey's mind worked. His take on "A Rose for
Emily" took me deeper into the story than my reading had done, and gave me
a connection to Emily that I hadn't expected. Like Emily, I'd been cut off from
the progress of time, clinging to the old ways in which I'd been raised,
despite my appreciation of having been rescued from it.

It was increasingly clear to me also that I
too was in danger of being an object of distant observation and curiosity if I couldn't
learn quickly to fit in. That very evening, I made the decision to re-invent
myself, with Rihanna’s help. Setting my studies aside, I made the first step.

"Rihanna, what do you think of my
hair? Be honest," I said.

"Um, well, it's pretty. You're a
natural blonde, aren't you?" she hedged.

"Yes. But, what I meant was, what do
you think of my style?" I wore my hair long enough to sit on,
French-braided, with the long tail hanging down. I kept the front neat with
combs that swept the sides up into the French braid. It was very similar to the
style that unmarried women in my former life used. I hadn't seen anyone else on
campus wearing theirs that way.

"Well, honey, you could really turn on
the sex appeal if you'd cut it a little shorter, and maybe layer it. But it's
pretty the way it is, honestly," she answered.

"What would I do with it if I wanted
to attract a man?" I asked.

Rihanna startled and asked, "Someone
in particular, or just any man?"

"Well, frankly, the most beautiful man
I've ever seen." There, I'd said it. Lightning didn't strike me, and Rihanna
didn't even flinch.

"Oh, so it's a
specific
man you
want to attract. Someone in one of your classes?"

"No, it's one of my professors,"
I said. "A girl in the class with me told me he had a rep as a player.
Does that mean reputation?" I asked.

"Oh, shit! Girl, you can't sleep with
a professor! It's unethical. And yes, that means reputation, and player means
he sleeps around. It means he plays with women's feelings. Sounds like a
shithead to me."

"Maybe so, but he's gorgeous. Who said
I was going to sleep with him? But I'm boring. I want to be more like you, Ri.
You seize life by the horns and don't let go, and you're
happy
."

"Aw, thanks, hon! But I didn't get
this way by sleeping with players. Why don't you forget him and I'll introduce
you to some friends who are closer to our age?" I knew Rihanna would be
willing to help, but I didn't expect her to resist what I wanted. Still, if she
would help me, it might spill over into becoming more attractive for Dr.
Mackey. Besides, who knew? Maybe Ri's friends were every bit as attractive.
Maybe it was just that I'd missed my teen years for flirting and dating, and
any man would do. Well, almost any. Not Scrud.

"Sure, Ri, that would be great! But
we're off the subject. What should I do with my hair? Should I cut it
short?" I was willing to do anything to change, and this seemed a good place
to start. My hair was a symbol of imprisonment to someone else's rules.

"Are you kidding?" Ri screamed.
"NO! Here, take a look." She opened her laptop and made several rapid
keystrokes, pulling up three or four tabs with different searches. Then she called
me over. "Look, all these women are young. Hardly any of them have short
hair. But look what you can do with long layers."

Picture after picture showed young women
with wavy tresses hanging loose, and I finally understood what she meant by
layers. In front, different lengths framed and flattered oval faces like mine.
There were even some showing side-braids that kept it back out of the way, or
messy top-knots that looked like they'd just fisted it into a bunch and put a
band around it.

"Ri, I love these! They look so easy
to take care of. No half-hour detangling sessions before I can braid it, just
wash it and go. Let's go do it right now! Will you come with me?"

Rihanna, caught up in my excitement,
bounced off the bed and looked around for her shoes. "You know, most of
those styles took at least half an hour. Those waves come from curling irons,
you know."

"But mine's naturally wavy," I
said.

"Really? I thought it was because you
always had it in a braid. In fact, except when you're combing it out wet, I've
never seen it down," she mused. "Okay, let's go, but first, get on
your dancing clothes, because when you're all glam, we're going out!"

It was a strange Friday night date, getting
my hair done and then going out dancing with my roommate, but we made it a fun
night, and I managed to get back to the dorm with my new, wonderful hair style
and not too shitfaced.

~~~

From that night forward, I watched Rihanna
closely and emulated everything from the way she put her outfits together, to
the breezy way she greeted her friends, now my friends too. She told me once it
was a little creepy, but she laughed when she said it. I think she was actually
flattered. I threw myself into learning to dance with abandon, loving that
groups of girls would go out to dance together and occasionally get picked out
of the herd by admiring boys to dance as a couple.

I learned to drink with care, too. I still
couldn't drink much without unfortunate consequences, but I learned that a
frozen daiquiri or margarita could be stretched to match two or three of Rihanna’s
drinks, and I'd be fine. I actually liked the taste of tequila, which Ri found
hilarious. I had a few missteps, too, though. Like, the time Ri and her friends
insisted I do a shot of tequila. Encouraged by the fact that I loved
margaritas, I accepted the challenge, and as they chanted 'one tequila, two
tequila, three tequila, floor!' I licked salt from my hand, tossed back the
shot, and almost choked to death on the strong fumes.

Ri was screaming with laughter, yelling,
"Suck the lime! Suck the lime!" I finally gained control long enough
to do it, and felt immediate relief, followed by the realization that an
aftertaste that I genuinely liked was present, as well as a warmth spreading
through me that made me want to melt into someone's arms and kiss him.

Acting on impulse and alcohol, I pulled one
of Ri's guy friends roughly in front of me and dragged him down by his face for
a kiss that turned passionate in about half a second. He forced his tongue into
my mouth, teased mine out and sucked on it. By the time he released the kiss, I
was weak in the knees and would have followed him anywhere, but Ri intervened.

"Chase, she's drunk. No taking
advantage. Come see her when she's sober." With that, she dragged me out
of the bar that night and took me back to the dorm, where she put me to bed
with a kiss on the cheek and an admonition not to shoot tequila anymore.

~~~

I was still aware that I was here on Russ's
generosity, and no matter what, I wouldn't repay him by wasting my time in
school. Ri would have been happy to go out more often, and in fact, she
sometimes went without me on a weeknight, but I insisted on keeping up with my
assignments and not missing class. I couldn't be certain I could get back to
the dorm at a reasonable hour if I went with Ri, so I stayed home except on
weekends.