Mary sits on her bed and whines into her cell phone. "She gets all upset when I bring my customers in here. Like last night, I was going down on this guy and she keeps looking up from her Shmorganic Chem or whatever and giving me these looks -- like, you can tell she thinks its so disgusting."
Melissa turns the other way in her bed and pulls the covers over her head.
"That's too bad, honey," says Mr. Bloom. "Maybe you should cut her in on a piece of your business."
"But Daddy," Mary protests, "she's an actual virgin. I mean, you know, she hasn't actually done it with anyone, even a boyfriend. Can you believe it?"
"Hmm, yes, I see the problem. Maybe you should file a grievance with the Housing Office."
"I thought of that, Daddy, but it won't work. She's under twenty-one, so virginity is still technically legal under the rules."
"Oh, that's right, I forgot about that. Aside from the roommate problem, how's life?"
"Pretty good. I had fifteen clients last week, which is pretty good considering this little situation. Also, I have arrangements with three of my four professors, including Mr. Barville."
"That's great, honey. Listen, some of my agency clients are in Lake City next week. Think you can fit them into your schedule?"
"Of course, Daddy! You know I always make time for your clients! The usual fee?"
"Yes, the usual fee. Just send me a check with my cut when you get a chance."
There is a beep on Mary's cell phone. "Somebody's calling me. Gotta run, could be a client. Love you, Daddy!" Mary presses Send to connect to the other call. "Mary Bloom speaking," she chirps, in her most virginly voice.
"Dis be Shawanna at de fron' day-esk." Shawanna Cabot Wadsworth of New Canaan, Connecticut is white as the driven snow, but went full ghetto a few years ago to further her career in gender politics. She cornrows her blond hair, rummages clothing at second-hand stores, wears Uggs and can recite verbatim every word of every scene in every episode of Girls. "Dey be peoples wants to see y'all, and dey looks like dey be da man."
Mary wrinkles her nose. "Um, can I speak to Mary Elisabeth?"
"Ah'll go gets her."
Long pause.
"Good morning, this is Mary Elisabeth." Mary Elisabeth Purcells is the Front Desk Supervisor. Born a few blocks from the University on Lake and Sixty-Fifth, Mary Elisabeth grew up with her great aunt and grandmother while her father served time for aggravated assault and her mother tried unsuccessfully to recover from heroin addiction. Mary Elisabeth joined the church choir at Zion A.M.E. Church on Lake Avenue; she sang so well that she gained admission to the Performing Arts High School in Lake City, and earned a scholarship to Lake City University. She now covers nights and weekends at Sritt-Nick to supplement the small income she earns as a counselor at Lake City Neighborhood Community Centers.
"Somebody wants to see me?" asks Mary.
"Yes," says Mary Elisabeth, in a hushed and professional tone. "Two men, wearing suits. They say they are from the National Virgin Society. Something to do with your application for Miss College Virgin America. Do you want to speak with them?"
Mary pauses. National Virgin Society? What could they possibly want at this time on a Sunday morning? "Yes, please, could you put them on?"
There is a brief silence as Mary Elisabeth hands the desk phone to one of the men.
"Hello, this is Roger Rector from the National Virgin Society, is this Mary?"
"Speaking."
"We're here for the random virginity check."
"The what?"
"The random virginity check. You know, for your application."
Mary ponders this. There was a lot of fine print at the bottom of her application for Miss College Virgin, which she did not read.
"I'm not decent."
"Oh, I don't think that's a problem."
"My roommate is sleeping."
"We'll be quiet as mice. Only takes a minute."
"Can you come back later?"
"If you decline a random check, you will be disqualified from Miss College Virgin, and your membership in the Society will be revoked."
"Well, okay, come on up."
Meanwhile, at Old Ivy, Megan continues her novel:
Mae Rose's remaining daughters died from various causes attributable to obesity, stupidity or both, except for Emily, who died when struck by lightning while cleaning the gutters.Today is the fifth sunday after Epiphany. Since Bach wrote no cantatas for the fifth sunday after Epiphany, the Bach Chorale takes the week off.
At the Church of the Holy Placebo, Dr. Feelgood's sentiments grow increasingly perfunctory. "The Memorial Service will be $199," he says, taking Mae Rose's hand. "Make your check payable to me. The organist is an extra $25, she prefers cash."
With few opportunities for conversation at home, Muffin takes to cruising the neighborhood, seeking companionship. One morning, she approaches a boy at a bus stop.
"Good morning," says Muffin. "My name is Muffin."
"Good morning," says the boy. "My name is Fred."
"Are you on the way to school?" asks Muffin.
"Yes. Just waiting for the bus."
"Do you live nearby?"
"Yes, just down the street, near the crazy fat lady with the sinkhole in her back yard."
Muffin smiles as well as a Dandie Dinmont Terrier can smile.
The boy smiles back. "I don't run into talking dogs every day."
Muffin considers responding with a nasty wisecrack, but suppresses the thought.
