Chapter 4: Reflections and Choices

My reflection on the past week of my journey initiation as a new student on the Barnett College campus has exhilaration and the imperative need for adaptation. The unexplored terrain unfolded before me, prompting a day spent acquainting myself with its intricacies. This newfound sense of normalcy provided a welcomed contrast to the preceding chaos.

It all started on the journey to the campus trip down winding roads from the picturesque Rocky Mountains where I grew up. To the Denver area freeways, followed by the extended drive into New Mexico, which seemed like a distant memory. Little did I anticipate that, within a day of settling into my junior quarters at the sorority, I would confront contemplations of the unimaginable over the next several days.

A sequence of decisions confronted me, leading to my expulsion from the sorority on the first day. A wave transformed into a betrayal that veered to an unforeseen path to embracing a solitary existence. In a short span of a week, through a series of unguided decisions or will be. The events that occurred yesterday, relief washed over me at the sight of Zoe seated at her desk upon entering my shared room.

Before our fall semester classes started this morning, she confided in me that she had no intention of going inside any of the sorority pool chairs until after Thursday’s classes. The previous day, working as the new apprentice assistant at the sorority pool deck, I had experienced a surge of uneasiness. However, that disturbing incident and the lack of sympathy for that loss of life restrained in a lounge chair lingered.

I was still processing the loss and the overly relaxed attitude of my roommate about it. She repeatedly told me her life was meaningless upon the close of the lounge chair lid. Even with how one slight move in my life could be taken away, a desire to have any sorority member sit on my face without a second thought.

I grappled with the grim recollection of the detachment displayed by everyone regarding the lifeless body in the chair during fifteen unfortunate incidents. On that first day, I was the one sorority lady who was planting my body hard down on who is now my roommate, Zoe’s face without a care in the world or if it ended up costing her life.

The turning point was at my desk as I looked up at that envelope containing my application on the shelf. My whole life, parents, siblings, and friends back home flashed before my eyes about it. Would I be able to face any of them knowing I am willingly risking my life, bound inside one of those sorority pool chairs?

I had an anxious inquiry to Zoe about how to disclose to everyone who loves me and knows me that I am willingly signing my death extermination to be a living part of the chair for sorority ladies’ enjoyment. The inquiry left me in the disclosure process left me bracing for the impact of the response, “How did you inform your parents that you are signing what is nothing more than a death certificate?”

Zoe then turned her screen toward me, and every single picture of her, some with others, she was naked. Up and said, ‘Why are you naked in all of those pictures?’ She allowed me to linger in a state of dizziness. Her matter-of-fact statement, “Simply, I left here like that for the trip home and back with nothing but my purse and phone,” she said.

State of shock, I nearly lost my footing in stumbling over the discarded blouse I had taken off earlier. Zoe tossed the dress off and said, “In that package to tell my family and other loved ones, and most of those involve public nudity.” She shrugged her shoulders, a clear view of her as she leaned down to grab what she had taken off.

I looked at her when she asked, “Want to get something for dinner off campus?” With that, she was out of the door after picking up her purse and phone. I had slipped my blouse on and was buttoning it while seeing the reactions of those who passed us. Nearing the edge of the busy street, I blurted out, “You naked!” with another shrug of the shoulders as we crossed the crosswalk with one guy bumping into me.

In the diner, when the hostess smiled at Zoe and directed us to our table. Giving our drink orders, she said, “That breaking decision some years ago bodies are not indecent.” Discussion knew there were no laws against not being clothed, less tolerable with guys exposed. Her hometown is in the western part of Texas. She decided to leave and spend the whole time naked to show how serious she was.

Tuesday and Wednesday on campus was a whirlwind of excitement and adjustment. College life unfolded before me like a vast, uncharted territory waiting. I spent the day learning my way around campus with Zoe, clothed in what was to me. The day was a sense of normalcy compared to the ordeals I had encountered the past week.

Thursday morning, Zoe informed me she submitted her name and to be in chair two until the pool closes at 2000 or eight in the evening. She then showed me the response email from who was in charge of the pool deck. The email read, ‘Tonight, she will be one of seven female faces at will of the sorority.’

Closing her laptop and placing it in her bag, “That one I was getting to know on Sunday, Caitlin, is one of them,” she casually told me, showing me her name at the top. The visions of the deceased bag from chair fifteen, with chills down my spine, were disturbing. What happened on Sunday, Caitlin or any of those ladies, and my family would react if I were the lifeless one and being discarded as worthless trash?

As Zoe’s warm hand rested on my shoulders, pulling me into a comforting hug, the weight of her words hung in the air. In approximately a week, she believed I would be mentally prepared to embark on a transformative journey—submitting applications and undergoing a screening process with a psychologist. The destination of this journey held an unconventional path: willingly becoming nothing more than a living, working part of those lounge chairs.

With a resolve in her eyes and a shared understanding was the vision of me telling my parents what I was considering that had not wavered. Zoe waited for me to close our door, ushering a moment of privacy before we entered the common area to bid our goodbyes. The anticipation of the forthcoming week loomed large, pregnant with decisions that challenged societal norms and personal boundaries.

My last class extended beyond the opening hours of the pool. Zoe would have already assumed her place in those chairs with the other ladies in that email with the remaining guys. I seized a moment to stop by Dr. Atkin’s office in the study hall, preparing to engage in a conversation that would delve into the intricacies of the past week and my future involvement with the sorority pool.