Delva Wright, Colonel Wright’s wife, stared at me throughout the indoctrination, umm…I mean meeting. The purpose of the meeting was to welcome us to that particular unit of the military and for us to meet the ‘senior’ wives...
Delva was tall with long, straight hair, almond colored skin, light eyes and thin lips, but full bodied and curvy, dressed conservatively. She looked, to me like Angela Davis, restrained and restricted. She was the polar opposite of me. She was in her fifties, me, my mid-twenties, I had brown skin with masses of curly, nappy hair and my jeans and forest green dashiki was the antithesis of her look and attire. With the exception of Bonne Bell lip-gloss, my shiny face was bare, and I’m sure my feelings showed on my face.
After the introduction, Delva approached me and literally lifted my hair, allowing it to drop.
“All that hair, it’s beautiful but could be constrained.” She said, her light eyes meeting mine. Biting into a brioche, I simply stared at her. She was the same age as my mom and I had no interest in disrespecting her.
“You’re a pretty girl and when you introduced yourself I could hear your intelligence. You would make a great role model for these young military wives but you’re too much.”
“How much should I be?” I asked, unable to restrain myself further. I knew my tone was clipped and proper because that’s how my annoyance manifested. Her eyes lit with a slight smile.
“Your hair could be pulled back and restrained, the jeans and that shirt or mini dress or whatever is entirely inappropriate and you ooze sexy... there’s probably not much to do about that. It’s all in your eyes. Don’t worry, I’ll tutor you.” She said, gliding away.
My only thought, was, Why Me?