The Skin They Were In...

Elsbeth had it all – at least the kids from Central Square, South Carolina, thought so. After someone in that seedy neighborhood of Charleston targeted Elsbeth’s thick, brown pate using a slingshot and an unopened canned Fresca, her driver was forbidden to take her anywhere near that part of town. The vivid scar on her right temple continuously reminded the family matriarch to warn the girl about that target on her back. Rich white girls are easy pickings in that neck of the woods. Her ‘Civics Research Projects’ needed to be chosen with attention to locale from then on. Els wasn’t sure why she didn’t just tell her grandmother that Geoffrey retrieved a small package at the same ramshackle house twice a week, but after the Fresca incident, she felt relieved to be finished with that place.  A small convenience store across the street from their bi-weekly destination periodically called her name. Who would ever believe a Reece’s Cup craving would bring about a near calamity? Besides GrandMiMi? She thought anything with chocolate would make you fat, and being fat was much worse than being dead.

As Elsbeth was neither fat nor dead and her mother did not fit the ‘homeschool Mom’ mold, she attended the most prestigious school within driving distance. The contemplative ninth grader at Charleston Country Day School wore her plaid pleated skirt a little loose and long. The same uniform one might have noticed in a brother’s ancient collection of girly magazines did nothing for Elsbeth’s appearance. Some of the flashier girls at school beelined for the restroom to roll up their skirts before first bell. Their 1984 ‘big hair’ gave away their modest beginnings and lack of taste. Everyone knew they must be scholarship girls. That bit of gossip confused Els. Just once she’d like to fluff up her hair a bit and wear something pink.  

Elsbeth’s bedroom in the rear wing of an antebellum home in the historic district of Charleston demonstrated the understated elegance of GrandMiMi Middleburg’s designer. The classic interior withstood the fashion whims of every classless trend from mid-century modern light fixtures to appliances in harvest gold from the local Sears. Els didn’t ask to paint her bedroom walls her favorite shade of fuchsia – Passionfruit – because exchanging gilt mirrors and fringed window treatments for more youthful décor would cause a ruckus reminiscent of Sherman’s March to the Sea.

Elsbeth’s resigned air permeated her very essence. Her quiet beauty went by unnoticed to all but the most astute. Prior to drifting off to sleep each evening, she stared into the mirror, looking for answers to the questions that plagued her. Elsbeth didn’t feel like she belonged here, and apparently her classmates agreed. She was never invited to the raucous parties at the beach houses of her classmates whose parents tended to be away most weekends. Elsbeth knew she didn’t fit in with the pretty people, so she never expected an invitation. She knew that inside, she WAS spectacular. She just hadn’t grown into her beauty yet.

Why didn’t any of the boys in her home room ever ask her out? Instead of congregating with Freshmen at their traditional Quad Wall, Elsbeth’s after school routine mirrored those other nobodies who were waiting for their breasts to bloom and their pimples to pop. Her exit from the hallowed school doors was her cue to assume the air of old money. Elsbeth promenaded to her white Jag with the best imitation of GrandMiMi’s formidable strut that she could muster. Elsbeth’s armor of genteel refinement deflected those imagined but hateful arrows aimed into the recesses of her soul.

The Jag belonged to the family’s fleet, but Geoffrey let Els drive it occasionally. GrandMiMi Middleburg abhorred that grotesque display of nouveau riche wealth, but Elsbeth’s mom, Betty, won that fight.  You see, Betty was the only nouveau riche creature in the Middleburg clan. While she lacked the spine to redecorate the museum she called home, she felt empowered enough to insist that she would be driven in a sexy car. Upon her return from her daily escapades, Geoffrey could hide it in the garage if that made the snobs feel better.

Betty did not enjoy the daily grind of motherhood but excelled with creating special moments that bestow warm spots in children’s souls. Memories of watching Elsbeth dance with her dad brightened the times he was away.  On a warm summer night, a nondescript beach band urged them to, “Be Young, Be Foolish, Be Happy.” A more perfect slogan could not be imagined for their family of three. Fortunately, the household staff could handle the monotonous moments by ensuring that Betty and Elsbeth had clean laundry. Frequently, the chief housekeeper, Mrs. Gay, attended parent teacher conferences in lieu of Betty. Teachers were never surprised by this occurrence. Nor was Elsbeth.

Elsbeth felt as though she lived in a cavern of shadows beneath a perfect glass house glowing in the Carolina sunshine. She sensed that the surreptitious chatter that ceased as she approached concerned her; the pretty people discussed rumors of which she knew nothing. She would never sink low enough to ask them. The only time Elsbeth felt safe was when her stunning father, Nathaniel Asher Middleburg IV, came home for a spell. His important position at the family’s manufacturing center just south of Nashville kept him on the road for months at a time. With the help of the household staff, Elsbeth and Betty kept Daddy Nathaniel’s birthright out of the hands of his younger brother, Uncle Bastian.

The Middleburg males were impressive specimens. Both boys attended Country Day then moved to New England to conquer their respective Ivy League colleges. Daddy Natty studied Finance but hated every class. He managed to graduate by focusing on the horizon’s most spectacular star – Middleburg Manor and the accompanying accoutrement. While Daddy was graceful, agile, and quick witted, Uncle Bastian’s charm as well as his study of the law made him indispensable to the family’s manufacturing empire. His rugged physique made Daddy Natty seem a tad delicate. Although Elsbeth knew her uncle and father were competitive, she was convinced they loved each other. In Daddy Natty’s absence, Uncle Bastian was a good second. 

1984’s Thanksgiving Thursday found Elsbeth feeling petulant. Daddy Natty headed to Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York because his presence was necessary to guarantee the ‘arc of the company float’s storyline’ was apparent to the humblest spectator. Elsbeth asked, then begged, Daddy to let her go. His standard, “New York is no place for children,” no longer resonated positively. It felt a bit like an excuse. She had not seen him for nine months and she needed her father. Her good spirits usually ebbed and flowed like the tide; lately they kept receding from shore as if a tsunami was forming in the distance. 

Elsbeth made a friend that November. Cara, a scholarship student, sparked joy in those lucky enough to share her sphere. Her effervescence caused even the most stalwart ‘old moneyed maniacs’ to welcome her into their sanctum. While Cara smiled and thanked them for offering her a key to the kingdom, she chose Elsbeth. 

Cara and her mother raved about Black Friday Sales non-stop. Getting up at the crack of dawn to buy discounted goods sounded like torture to Betty. She refused to go, even with the help of her driver, Geoffrey. Elsbeth couldn’t sleep Thanksgiving night. The hustle and bustle of the market called to her like a siren by the sea. When the light broke through GrandMiMi’s ancient linen curtains, Elsbeth could contain her emotions no longer. She burst through her mother’s door to find her naked, in Geoffrey’s chiseled, coffee-colored arms.

Betty did not have the grace to apologize for sleeping with a man who was not Daddy Natty. Elsbeth’s threats to call her father fell on deaf ears. Resignedly, Betty took Elsbeth’s tear-stained cheeks in her hands and sighed.

“Your father does not care, Elsbeth. He knows, and he does not care.”

Daddy Natty did not answer the phone in his suite at The Pierre. After a long week of waiting, Elsbeth let that tsunami take her away. Her former self was a cicada clinging to a pine tree, stuck halfway through that crunchy shell. She had grown tired.   

Two weeks later, Nathaniel Asher Middleburg, IV, entered Middleburg Manor in the form of that now empty cicada shell. With darkened eyes deep like a sinkhole in the Florida sand, Daddy Natty weighed all of 95 pounds. His lithe body was no more; his emaciated form could not find the energy to climb the center staircase, let alone dance the Low Country Shag with Els. AIDS, the misunderstood scourge that began terrorizing Americans in the 80s, struck low and hard.

Daddy Natty did not make it to Christmas.

Betty and Elsbeth did not make it to the New Year.

Elsbeth took the ouster from Middleburg Manor with a spark of optimism. Uncle Bastian cared about his stoic niece, but not as much as he loved his own full-breed society son whom his debutante wife had groomed since infancy to be the face of the Middleburg clan.  As the new reigning patriarch, Bastian ensured Betty and Elsbeth’s new home in Summerville was safe and near good public schools.

January was a great month for a quick transition from wealth to stealth. In 1985, the AIDS death sentence terrified people. Opening a germy door or sitting on an infected toilet seat could lead to a miserable death. Elsbeth knew Daddy Natty was not gay – he married her mother 15 years ago and they were happy whenever they were together.

Elsbeth’s new classmates would not be exposed to the rumors of homosexuality that the recent Castoff imagined playing non-stop in Country Day kids’ Trans Ams. The two groups didn’t share the same universe. Of greater concern to Els was the very real fear of AIDS. She had no idea how her father became infected and knew that if her new neighbors discovered the truth of his demise, she would be a Castoff once again. Her plan was to keep this secret buried deep, retain her aloof image by channeling GrandMiMi’s unapproachable persona, and keep her eyes on her new prize. Uncle Bastian promised to send her to a state university.  Plus, she got the Jag!

Elsbeth suspected the Middleburgs never approved of her mother, but she wasn’t sure why. Betty was the first in her family to attend Community College but dropped out to try beauty school. Nathaniel met Betty at a community theater’s summer production of Oliver in 1970. Neither of Els’ parents were pacifists nor protesters as some college kids were at the time. They loved life, drank too much, and lived for cast parties.

Their sudden elopement surprised the family; at first, relief that their oldest son had found such a beautiful girl clouded their judgment.  Their hope that Nathaniel’s medical note was a ploy to avoid Viet Nam could be true. A Columbia University doctor stated that Nataniel was unfit for service because of homosexual tendencies. Of course, Elsbeth knew nothing of this.

After Elsbeth was born, the Middleburg progenitors’ joy slowly soured. While the baby girl was beautiful and appeared to have some intelligence, their new daughter-in-law frequently left her with the household staff while going who knows where in that Jag. When they mentioned this unfortunate habit to Natty, he cared not. He focused on building a fabrication center for their business farther west. Nashville seemed an up-and-coming area with fabulous social opportunities. He was certain Betty would love to join him in this wild territory after Elsbeth entered University. This much Elsbeth pieced together by listening to quiet conversations behind closed doors. 

With mother and daughter settled in a small ranch house, Geoffrey realized his services were no longer needed. After making sure Elsbeth could safely drive the white Jag, he vanished as quietly as he had appeared when summoned in the big house. The departure devastated Betty: she did not leave home for months. Elsbeth suspected Geoffrey would go; she could never ‘unsee’ their intertwined black and white limbs. Certain this one-time slip-up would not become a habit, Els knew mixed race couples faced enormous obstacles in 1985 South Carolina. Betty didn’t do obstacles. Too much work.

Elsbeth’s new difficulties eventually became her new normal. None of her classmates connected her last name to those Middleburgs, even with that white Jag parked in the school’s rear parking lot. 

After her first semester of self-imposed aloofness at her new school, Elsbeth gradually became comfortable with her classmates. At first, the sleepovers at friends’ houses revealed lives without staff and drivers but with moms who ordered pizza then handed over the remote.   Some homes had mamas and daddies, others had Fathers and Fathers. One of the Fathers, Mark, figured out that his former friend, Nathaniel, was Elsbeth’s Father.  He had known Nathaniel from the Yacht Club. Mark worked at the marina when Daddy Natty attended Swim and Sail Camp. Mark and Nathaniel grew close that summer. The campers and crew lived together in cabins during the week. Elsbeth was sorry she asked.

Every month brought new experiences for Elsbeth. First, the sleepovers involved boys sneaking through windows. Before long, the boys brought in beer as they came for their make-out sessions. By Elsbeth’s senior year, she rolled joints for bonfires and then strutted like GrandMiMi to her Jag with that night’s prey. They could be male or female, black or white. Elsbeth didn’t care. No one else did. 

Elsbeth’s last Christmas at home began like the previous two. J.C. Penney definitely needed her. Elsbeth worked from Black Friday until Christmas Day, monotonously stocking and refolding endless piles of merchandise. After proving herself, she became cashier in the Ladies’ Department. She never slipped any money into her pocket, but an occasional camisole might find its way into her purse.

Black Friday was crazy that year. Everyone adored the sequined Christmas sweaters with oversized shoulder pads that looked great with leggings. As Els rang up the 10^th sweater of the hour, she heard a familiar voice laughing – loudly. Cara, her only friend from Country Day School, was right there in Elsbeth’s department, disparaging the ‘ugly Christmas sweaters’ with the girls who had never given Elsbeth the time of day. Cara recognized Elsbeth then morphed into the kind, effervescent girl, her only friend, from tenth grade. For about 20 seconds. The Mean Girls then remembered the awkward girl whose father died of AIDS and her classless mother who was ousted from Middleburg Manor. Elsbeth’s intuition told her to run, but she wasn’t the awkward girl anymore. She could take those bitches. And it felt good.

Elsbeth left work high from her verbal victory. The tall blonde said something that gnawed at Els’ brain, though. What did she mean when she called Betty a beard? Geoffrey was a drug dealer? Suddenly Elsbeth needed a drug stronger than marijuana. She knew where to go – the dealer’s house in Central Square.

Els found the dilapidated home with little trouble. The convenience store across the street now provided gas as well as Reece’s Cups. Tremulously, Elsbeth knocked at the door. The old woman who answered, Libby, did not appear to deal drugs. Her kind, omniscient eyes welcomed Elsbeth into her tiny abode. After telling Els that she had been waiting for her visit, Libby offered her a glass of sweet tea, then began her soliloquy. 

Libby’s son, Jeff (aka Geoffrey), fell in love with Elsbeth’s mom, Betty, while they attended community college. Both were employed at the college cafeteria – Jeff as dishwasher and Betty as cashier. In 1968, mixed-raced couples faced danger just strolling down a southern street. Jeff and Betty found activities that allowed them to interact innocently. They met Els’ father, Nathaniel, at rehearsals for the musical, Oliver. Nathaniel had his own secrets; homosexuals also struggled against 1960s mores. 

After rehearsals, the three improbable friends found venues that welcomed people of any race – the beach music clubs south of town. After several nights on the town, they realized that each held the key to the others’ happiness. Nathaniel needed a wife and heir to ensure his birthright in his family’s holdings. Homosexuals would never suit. While hiding their relationship from household staff, Betty and Jeff could see each other on the sly if he was employed on the premises. The situation worked beautifully until the AIDS epidemic punctured their trifecta and their world collapsed.

Jeff, the son that brought an envelope of cash in exchange for his mother’s baked goods, realized that without the cover of the chauffeur position, he would not be able to safely see Betty. He sadly departed for a more tolerant locale. He and Betty would love each other from afar.

Libby sighed and took Elsbeth’s hands in hers. “Girl, it’s in your hands now. You can be angry. You can be happy. You get to decide. You hold the power.”

Elsbeth didn’t get what she came for, but she went home the next morning with something better. Libby perceived Els’s distress and forbade her to leave. For the first time, someone saw her pain and then cared enough to keep her safe until she knew Els’s was able to go home. Not just to any home – a home filled with truth and peace. A home Elsbeth would create for herself.

Thirty years later, Elsbeth attended Libby’s Celebration of Life with joy in her heart. No one in the Central Square Gospel Church raised an eyebrow when Betty and Jeff walked through the door, holding hands.  Elsbeth’s son, Nate, and his husband surprised everyone with their arrival. They flew in from the regional headquarters in Nashville created by Daddy Natty. They knew the president of the company, Elsbeth, would approve of their decision to miss work for a week.

They finally fit in the skin they were in.