After attempting to hit snooze for the fifth time at 9am, Naomi eventually realized she was actually hitting the “fuck you” button on her dad’s calls.
What the FUCK, Dad? she thought. He KNOWS I don’t have class until noon today. Why is he calling me at such an ungodly hour?
She stared at her phone through one eye and one hangover, and realized she’d missed his calls for the last thirty minutes, and that meant trouble. She’d been down the multiple missed calls path before. The first call is usually just to say “hi,” the second one is because he knows she never answers her phone on the first call, and the third one is because she’d fucked up. She had never missed five calls before.
Shit, what day is it? she wondered, and immediately answered her own question when she opened her texts.
“I just got your credit card statement.”
“Is there a reason you spent $600 at Sephora, Nordstrom, and Francesca’s in ONE weekend?”
“I pay for that phone, young lady, when I call you, you’d fucking better answer it.”
“I am not playing around. You are so entitled. I should pull you out of school and cut your credit card in half.”
JESUS, Dad. I was asleep! Give me a fucking break. She quickly composed herself, and thanked the vodka gods that he hadn’t mentioned the $150 she also spent at PacSun.
“Hey Daddy. I’m sorry I missed your calls. I was sleeping. I know my credit card bill was pretty high this month and I am really, really, sorry about that. I really didn’t mean it. It was totally uncool of me to go on a little spending spree without telling you first. And the only reason I forgot to mention it was because I was planning on making some returns before you saw the bill.”
Lies. All lies. She knew damn well that once she took all her goodies home, they were hers forever. She had never once returned something “extra” she bought in her life, and there was approximately zero incentive for her to start now.
She saw the three little dots appear, and knew she needed to hop in and do damage control before he responded.
“But the reason I went so crazy with all my purchases is because I have recruitment coming up, and I just wanted to be prepared to look my best. I needed to get a few things, they have some requirements on what you need to wear each day. I thought I told you about it?”
He started typing, then stopped. Then started, then stopped. And eventually came through.
“You sent me an email several months ago, but I saw nothing about any $600 makeup requirements. This is excessive even for you. This is not the Bank of Dad.”
God, Dad, you are so fucking cheesy.
“Okay, well, they aren’t technically requirements. I mean, we needed to have a black dress, but everything else is just guidelines.”
He sent over a screenshot outlining the clothes PNMs were instructed to wear.
“You don’t have jeans, heels, and a nice top? I know you have at least $100 dresses. I seem to remember moving them into your dorm while you and your mother decorated last semester.”
“I mean, okay. I do, but Dad, truthfully. I’m really nervous. Everyone says to just trust the process, or whatever, but what I trust is my instinct. And my instinct says is that no matter how amazing my personality is (and it’s amazing, obv, since I got your great sense of humor!), the first AND last thing these girls are going to see is the way I look. And you know, I just…I really need to feel confident when I go in there. Sorority girls can smell fear. I need to cover it up with expensive beauty products.”
“Honey, you’re beautiful. Everyone can see that :)”
“It’s not just about being pretty, though. I want to look put together. I want to look like I tried, but not too hard, ya know? Like I cared, but not like I’m begging for it. I just, I haven’t really admitted this to anyone. But like… what if I don’t get in anywhere?”
She didn’t even realize how terrified that concept was until she said it to her dad with her guard down. I mean, sure, she could survive on this campus without being Greek. Her school did formal recruitment in the spring, and she’d survived a semester so far. But…why would she want to? Being in a sorority was like being campus elite. It was automatic inclusion in an exclusive group. And it wasn’t that she ever had a problem making friends or meeting people. It’s just…that this would make it so much easier.
“Those girls are going to be so excited to meet you and any sorority would be lucky to have you as a sister!”
“I guess so. I don’t know.”
“You will! I bet you’d even get in without spending more than a month’s rent on clothes in a week!”
“Ugh. I know. I’m really sorry about that, Daddy. I just went shopping with Sara and Whitney, and it truly was like the blind leading the blind. I mean, not totally, because Whitney’s older sister is Greek, but not at our school. I just got sucked in. It was like I blacked out. I had no control over my purchasing. I wanted to have an outfit for every possible occasion. I might even BRING a change of clothes with me if I don’t feel like I fit in with the other PNMs. I promise I’ll return whatever I don’t wear,” she lied again.
“Okay. I understand you’re nervous. But understand that you don’t have to be. You are smart and funny, and you’re great at making friends. And hey! Now they might all let you in because they want to borrow all your new clothes, because THEIR fathers aren’t all a bunch of suckers like yours is :P”
She had a feeling the girls’ fathers, were, in fact, also a bunch of suckers.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I love you so much.”
“I love you too. When do I finally have to stop funding the spring line of Alpha Beta Something?”
“Recruitment starts next week.”.