Woman to Woman!: (Two Novellas of Friends and Enemies)

By Susan Anthony-Tolbert

"Woman to Woman!" includes two novellas about friends and enemies. Most women have had the experience of very dear and supportive women friends. These are certainly cherished. However, sometimes women can be their own worst enemies. They don't need men to criticize them, to disrespect them or to destroy their plans. These two Novellas reflect both: women as dear friends and women as nasty enemies. Though the themes and events are real, the characters and the settings have been as completely disguised as humanly possible. The support, the caring and the friendships are real. The jealousy, the hostility and the various attempts at sabotaging the goals of their female friends and acquaintances did happen. Hopefully these two stories will also give an historic perspective on the struggles of achieving women during the mid to late 1970s and early 1980s in the United States. The first novella, "The Guest." involves graduate students toward the end of their course of study for advanced degrees. The central character, the epitome of attractiveness to many of the male students and male professors at the time, is extremely entitled. She becomes the guest of a very intelligent younger student whose attempts at hospitality fail. The Guest quietly but purposely seems to be out to hurt her hostess in several ways. The second novella, "Lovely Lola," is the story of a woman who suffers abuse in terms of witnessing it as a child and then later as the wife of an abuser and as the mother of an abuser. Lola is entitled. Though a skilled horsewoman, who is capable of supporting herself through her skills, her approach to life is that she is owed and that nothing is her fault or her son's fault. Everyone else is to blame. She is right even in the face of contradictory evidence. She knows all despite the mess that surrounds her! She is the perpetual victim as is her son! And yet, like the main character of the Guest, she is capable of kindness and generosity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098347239

Book preview

Author

Prologue:

The story in The Guest is basically a biography. Most of the events actually did happen. However, I have taken great pains to disguise the players, though all of them are deceased. The main character, known in the story as Abby Arnold, told me about these events, insults, discriminations, and sexist remarks many years ago. This is her story. We attended different schools and traveled in different circles, though we knew each other quite well.  She made me promise I would not write about The Guest until all of the characters or players had passed. I respected these wishes. The main character is also no longer alive. I do think that she would be happy to see the story told because it may serve a purpose or two. One of which is certainly an historical perspective of achieving women in the late 1970s/early1980s in terms of their everyday fights for respect that includes their everyday victories and defeats. The second is a view of one particular encounter of sexism.

        I fear that women of today who are fighting for their rights, their respect, and their just rewards may not have a clear picture of how the power of women was morphing into a force to be reckoned with fifty or sixty years ago. Of course, we are not there yet but even the most militant of us would have to admit that we are on our way. Many are familiar with the famous suffragettes of the late 19th and early 20th century, my namesake (Susan B. Anthony) among them. Many who know history realize how women took over the roles in both factories and offices of the men fighting for our country in WWI and WWII. There was a progression of women out of the home and into the work force. Being a female child of the 60s, I, along with my female cohorts, was allowed to dream even bigger dreams and to imagine broader horizons. But some may need to be reminded that the transition, even back then, was not smooth or easy and that the battles were fought in everyday encounters at work, in school and at home.

        This story does not document the big events in the 60s, 70s and 80s that helped in the changing roles of women.  It presents an undercurrent or an atmosphere of harassment not described or announced on the evening news. This was vague enough in some ways to be shrugged off as ‘the imagination of the woman.’ It is written in a time when women were most definitely still evaluated in terms of their looks, their figures, or other physical attributes. However, there were many men who looked beyond the superficial, even 50 or 60 years ago. There certainly were, as there are today, many men who were our champions.  My friend would also insist that I point out that often times we women are our own worst enemies. Certainly, she was the brunt of derogation, sarcasm and criticism by her ‘guest,’ a supposed friend! But I have explained enough. The story should tell itself. I hope you find it interesting.

Chapter 1: Early 1980s, a Dissertation Defense at Bluestone Hall

She was breath-taking in her looks: tall and slender with dark hair, dark eyes, flawless skin and a pretty face. The designer dress in tan and grey accentuated her beauty and her figure. Three of the four male professors on the panel followed her every move as she arranged and re-arranged papers for her presentation. The two female professors studied their papers and notes. They certainly gave the appearance of eagerness to get-on with the defense. The fourth thesis advisor appeared to be reviewing some information in his notes.

        Bluestone Hall was a tiered classroom with capacity for sixty or more students. For this defense, it now had a long table for six committee members in front of the blackboard.  A small table faced the panel. It was there that Torrie Mergen sat with her back to the audience.

        "So, Miss. Mergen, you’re going to discuss your research on the Psychological Impact of the French Resistance during World War II on French Children. Her thesis advisor paused and smiled at her as he had been doing for the last four months and for many years before that.

        Yes, Dr. Tantello. It’s a topic that’s very dear to me since my maternal family was involved in that Resistance. Torrie Mergen took a sip of her water.

        The older of the two female professors interjected. "It is of no consequence what your feelings may or may not be, Miss Mergen. We are interested only in research and well-crafted research. You might want to address the more appropriate question as to why this topic is important to history and psychology. She added hastily, as opposed to your sentiments."

        In the tiered seating with very few spectators for this defense, Abby grimaced and mouthed ouch to her Mother on her right and then to Gina, her friend since childhood, on her left.  She was very aware that this was not starting off well or scholarly as her own advisor would have said. And try as she might, she could not stop the feeling that this awkwardness pleased her, justified her in some ways, at least for the moment.

        Dr. Folke, Abby’s own thesis advisor and mentor, hurriedly added that it was certainly valuable to allow life experiences of whatever kind to begin the questions leading to research. So admirable that your family was involved in the war effort! This kind man, the fourth man on the committee, and the one who had no interest in Torrie Mergen, except as a student, smiled warmly.

        The younger woman on the panel of thesis advisors requested a brief summary of the project (her word for the dissertation). That wording convinced Abby that this committee member was not familiar with the jargon for a master or doctoral defense. She concluded that it was probably her first time on a dissertation committee. This would serve Torrie well. The young faculty member would be afraid to criticize Dr. Tantello’s protégé.

        Abby began to listen intently and soon realized by Torrie’s fourth or fifth sentence, that her presentation was a jangle of half thoughts, unfinished sentences and historical errors.  And yet, Dr. Tantello nodded warmly and enthusiastically.  The other three male professors starred at the papers in front of them. The two women frowned. Abby felt her anger rising. Her own defense had been so strict, so demanding. Every thought and sentence had to be supported by research. She had passed because she knew her statistics and her results completely. They had respected her knowledge and preparation. She hadn’t been willing to admit that: not until Gina pounded it into her head for weeks afterward. For Torrie’s defense, at least three of these men were attracted, if not desirous of her, and the women, even if critical, would be easily out-voted. Abby feared this might make it easy for Torrie –- so damn easy. 

Chapter 2:  Five Years Earlier

Abby was worried when she was called into the Chair’s Office on a beautiful late summer afternoon. The fall semester was about to begin. As she walked down the hall toward the suite of offices, she mentally reviewed her course work and could find nothing flawed that might provide the reason for a meeting with the Chair of the Department.  And the fall semester was only beginning. The first classes had only started that day.  What, she asked herself could be wrong?

The secretary ushered her into the large corner office. Dr. Tantello stood up. Great to see you again, Miss Arnold. I haven’t seen you since you took my course a few semesters ago. And, your paper and statistical analysis are still among the best I’ve ever received.

        Good to see you, Dr.Tantello. Abby let the compliment slide. Is everything ok?

        Oh, yes, absolutely. Your progress in the program is stellar and I’m so pleased that you’ll be helping out again this semester with some of our students who –- well, shall we say, are less gifted in psychology statistics than you. Very nice of you and will count heavily when you are applying for teaching positions down the road.

        Abby smiled. She didn’t offer that teaching was not her goal. It hadn’t taken her long in her graduate training to figure out that much of this preparation in psych and statistics was to produce the next generation of university professors.  Research, pure and non-political research, was her goal. But that afternoon her timelier question was why she was asked to meet with him. She felt that if she brought it up, she would seem impertinent.

        He motioned for her to sit across from him. He sat at his huge desk which was certainly not university-issue. It was too grand for a faculty office. The wood was thick, rich mahogany with very ornate designs. Abby mentally pitied the men who had to move that desk into the office. She didn’t much care for its workmanship. She didn’t care much for the figurines on shelves and bookcases, and, in her opinion, the gaudy art work on the walls. The office seemed like a museum but not an elegant one. It appeared cheap and overdone. The carpeting was so thick it made entering the office feel like a work-out.

        I need to ask you a favor. He smiled. Do you know Torrie Mergen?

        Abby thought for a moment. The name was familiar but she couldn’t place her.  Immediately, she guessed that this Torrie needed statistical help.  She hesitated, I don’t think I know her.

        "Well, no matter. She’s a part-time student now but will apply for the Clinical program –- oh what a lovely young woman –- just a beautiful woman –-beautiful, stylish and bright –- probably a little older than you. She’ll be a wonderful clinician." He gazed out the window very briefly before turning back to look at Abby. It seemed clear that he was thinking of this Torrie –- thinking fondly and more than fondly.  For a moment, when he turned back toward her, Abby thought he would salivate right onto the papers on his desk.  She believed then, without having to run-it by her friend, Gina, for confirmation, that he was either having an affair with Miss Mergen or he was most desirous to have one.

        Dr. Tantello continued. She lives in NYC with her mother and comes her on Wednesday’s and Thursdays for course work. Miss Mergen is royalty. She was married to a Spanish prince I believe. I’m not sure of her rank in the marriage. Abby mentally wondered if this Torrie person was in the Armed Service. She didn’t think it appropriate to use the word, rank, for royalty. She thought the appropriate word was title. Dr.  Tantello continued, She’s not as far along in her studies yet.  Um –- but she needs to stay overnight here in the city after her Wednesday evening course. She has a Thursday morning seminar. Traveling back to NYC would not be feasible. Unfortunately, she has no place to stay on Wednesday evenings.  And a hotel room would be such an unnecessary financial outlay when a fellow student could help out. And so,–- he was almost breathless from talking so fast, "I know you have an apartment in center city. I know that you live alone and I am asking you to permit Miss Mergen to be your Guest on Wednesday evenings. He paused for a moment. And you know this could be beneficial to you. Miss Mergen could give you some advice on style and fashion and how to present yourself more –-. He searched for his words –-attractively and appealingly."

        Abby blushed but was more concerned about the disruption to her life than about the insult. She would have preferred to have analyzed any statistical problem or many statistical problems to help out. She would have preferred to do almost anything else but to allow this "Guest" into her life. She lived alone. She had her routine. She had a cat and three tanks of tropical fish. She took a flute lesson once a week. Her Mother, a professor at a junior college upstate, came to visit. Gina, her friend, sometimes stayed with her.  And then there was Jeff, a friend and sometimes much more than a friend, who would stay for a night or two. But as Dr. Tantello’s question floated in the air, she couldn’t think of a polite excuse. Everyone in the program and in the department knew she was by herself. There was no declared other. There was no impediment to allowing this young woman to stay with her every Wednesday night for the semester. Abby hoped it was only for one semester. She felt choked with even that. She felt trapped. No excuse would come. Dr. Tantello smiled at her, Well, would that be acceptable to you? We need to know as the semester is beginning. Now there was just a slight edge to his voice –- enough of an edge that Abby knew full well it would not be wise for her to refuse.

        Yes, I guess it would be all right. I do have a cat so I hope she isn’t allergic. –- Um –— the only thing I would ask is that she call me before she arrives to be sure that something hasn’t come up or that I have to leave for some reason –- just to make sure I’ll be there.

        Really, Abby! Do you often get called away from your apartment in the middle of the week during a semester?

        No, not often but it could happen. My Mother is up state alone and if she needed me or something or some emergency. I would never put Miss Mergen in a situation where she was here in the city but had no place to stay overnight. Abby congratulated herself on having rallied. She had provided herself with an out if she needed a break from Torrie.  She knew it was hopeless to refuse. If she did refuse there would be far fewer compliments on any letters of recommendations –- maybe not even letters of recommendation. He hadn’t said that but it didn’t take a Rhodes Scholar to know that this was very, very important to Dr. Tantello. This was not a man who was used to being refused.

        I don’t see your semester filled with emergency calls to leave the city on Wednesday evenings, Abby. And, I’m sure you and Miss Mergen can work out the details.  In fact she should be here any minute. As if on cue, the intercom buzzed.  By all means, send her in! He spoke excitedly and smiled broadly.

        Abby immediately recognized Torrie Mergen. She now had a name with a face. The other graduate students had talked about her during the summer. She was gorgeous –- tall, thin, fashionable. The rumor was that she was engaged to a German prince. At the time, Abby had sarcastically informed her fellow students that Germany didn’t have princes. The country hadn’t had princes since before WW I. She had asked her Mother, who was a historian, although her specialty was WW II. Mrs. Arnold had mentioned that Austria, Germany and France might have families that were royalty at one time but currently there were no princes, dukes or duchesses recognized as such in any of them to her knowledge.

        Torrie Mergen seemed very polite. She was friendly and very open to staying at Abby’s apartment. The cat was no problem. Though when it was discussed, Dr. Tantello had offered that Abby could perhaps put the cat with a neighbor for the evening if Miss Mergen was allergic.  Abby didn’t know how to respond to that suggestion or imposition. So as Gina would say, she let it float on by. Torrie Mergen thanked her in what Abby felt was as polite but constrained way. Dr. Tantello seemed more grateful and more eager to move the arrangements along.

        For a moment, Abby thought that Torrie might be staying that Monday evening. As if to read her thoughts, Torrie offered that she was returning to NYC that very afternoon. She would be joining Abby at her apartment on Wednesday evening. There was relief since Abby needed to straighten up the place and to do the dishes that had accumulated in the sink over the weekend.

        I have the directions to you apartment. I’ll be there around 10 on Wednesday evening. Dr. Tantello tells me that you drive to campus so, of course, I’ll come with you on Thursday mornings. I’ll study in the Library until my class begins at 9:30.

        I’ll be leaving early on Thursday mornings, about 7:20 –- with traffic and all. My class in statistical models starts at 8 am. Abby hoped this might be the deal breaker she needed.

        Oh, dear, that’s earlier than I had hoped. I guess there’s only one section of that course so you couldn’t change to a later morning section.

        Statistical modeling is not the most popular of courses as you can imagine.  Dr. Steiner is very gracious in even offering it just for three of us. It has to be when his schedule permits and that’s the only time he has.

        I guess I’ll have to make do then! She smiled with resignation.  She sighed, I’ll survive somehow.

Chapter 3: Old Friends Begin the Semester

That evening on the first day of classes for the fall semester, Gina and Abby sat at the little table in her apartment and devoured Chinese take-out. The huge black cat, Norman, scoffed up the chicken and beef offered by the two friends.

"So, you’re the Hotel Abby this semester for this Torrie person. Wow, that Tani-Fani (Dr. Tantello’s name among the graduate students) has a lot of nerve. He knew damn well you couldn’t say no. He’s a piece of work." Gina was a Master’s student in Social Work so Dr. Tantello was not the Chair of her department. Yet, she knew him well or at least knew of him.  She was very aware of him: as a handsome older man; as a flirt; as a player; and as an academician with a hefty list of publications in prestigious journals.

He had me cornered, Gina, and there was no way to say no. And believe me, I am pissed at myself. I couldn’t think fast enough and besides what excuse could I really offer?

You might have said I stayed with you.

Abby sighed. I didn’t think of it –- I’m so dumb sometimes. I guess I was so stunned and I feared he’d know your schedule and know you were doing an internship. Geez –- I should have–-.

But more important. Why did he need to be an intermediary for Miss Mergen? She couldn’t ask you herself?

Well, she doesn’t know me!

But he could have introduced you and let her ask you. Of course, we know why. You might have said no to her. Who wouldn’t say no to a person –- a stranger? Tani-Fani knew you’d never say no to him."

You’re right but I’m prepared now for next semester. I’ll invent a roommate or a boyfriend or whatever.

Gina rolled her eyes. "Of course before next semester and your new found ability to deflect, you will have experienced 13 nights of being Hotel Abby Deluxe." She paused and ate more food. And while I’m thinking of this, here’s a question. Why is she arriving at 10? Kinda late? What class goes that late?

Some end at 9 –-right? Some evening classes are from 6 to 9 and by the time she gets her stuff and takes the bus ride to center city –-.

Gina got the course catalogue out of her briefcase. She scoured the fall offerings. That course is from 5 to 8 on Wednesday evenings, Abby!

The two friends looked at each other. Each was lost in thought for a moment. Gina spoke first. "I think your Dr. Tani-Fani is having an affair with your guest.  Between 8 and 10 there’s certainly time. Abby cut her off.  You mean a quickie between the end of her class and coming here. That’s cutting it pretty tight."

Oh, Abby, I bet Miss Mergen is not riding the bus after her class.  I’m willing to bet Tani-Fani is driving her, escorting her, if I may say so. They both laughed.

Abby served more food and ice tea. The other thing that hurt me –-, Abby exhaled and took another drink.  Dr. Tantello mentioned how Torrie could instruct me on style to make me more attractive and appealing. Am I that ugly, Gina?

Oh stop. You’re not ugly. The thing is both of us kinda got stalled in the fashion statements of the Hippie–Dippy times.  Being in the internship program this summer and this fall has forced me to change to a new look and to get a more professional wardrobe. But Abby, your bib-coverall-thing and the long jumpers in jean material are out –- definitely OUT! And you have beautiful hair as I’ve been telling you for years. Women would die for that hair and you pull it to the side in a ponytail. A shorter haircut would be much more flattering and show off your hair.

I’m not a short hair person. Abby spoke defensively.

I didn’t say SHORT. I said shorter –- like maybe shoulder length. But other than that Tani-Fani was way out of line. Could you picture him telling a male student that so and so could help him become more attractive? He’d get punched in the chops!

Abby studied her friend. "You have become more style conscious. I guess I overlooked that. You look very pretty and very attractive. –- It’s just that my clothes are so comfortable and I can’t think when I’m in fancy, itchy clothes and my bra is too tight."

For a bra to be too tight you’d have to wear one, Abby. You couldn’t teach in front of a class without wearing a bra.

I’m not big breasted, Gina. It’s different for you. You’re better endowed than me. I don’t really need a bra.

Abby, your nipples show sometimes! You need a bra.

And besides, I can’t cut my hair. It hides the birthmark on my neck. (Abby had a hermangiona, also known in the vernacular and expressed sometimes crudely as port wine stain; strawberry stain or salmon patch. It extended from the back of her neck up to and behind and in front of her left ear).

Can I be honest?

Abby nodded.

It doesn’t. Your hair doesn’t hide it. But please, Abby, don’t think that the discoloration detracts from you –- it’s really hardly noticeable and you’re so lively and animated that no one cares. Tani-Fani is an ass. His remark was cruel.

"How I dress is me. I like somber tones and comfy clothes. And I am definitely not cutting my hair. And besides, clothes are just a wrapper. They aren’t the person. It’s very prejudicial to judge a person on their clothes."

You don’t need to talk to me about prejudice. I’ve had a belly full of that!

I know, Gina, and I’m sorry.  –- so sorry. Skin just like our clothes is only a wrapper for the person inside.

You’re not like the millions of people out there who judge on skin color or the type of clothes or the model of car a person has. But, I’m here to tell you that today even after all the struggles and all the history being a black woman isn’t easy.

But your Mom is a doctor and she made it. Look how successful she is and your Dad, an engineer, with an amazing business. Your family is successful and no one should be concerned with whether you’re black or white or Asian! And, why does it matter to Tani-Fani or any other asshole, how I dress? Why does it matter that your skin is black and mine is white? What difference do all these surface qualities make?

Abby, you certainly saw the difference it made throughout our elementary school, our high school and our college. You were excluded cuz your best friend was African American.

Let’s not review ancient history. Of course I noticed it but your friendship is worth more to me than anything in this world and I’m tired of other people. I’m tired of Torrie Mergen and the semester is only beginning. She hasn’t even stayed here yet and I’m dead tired of her. I’m fed up with her. Both women laughed.

They ate in silence for a while. Then they discussed their diet plan for this semester.  Previously they had explored the all meat-diet; the all-vegetable-diet and the Instant Carnation Breakfast diet. The latter was not an official diet but Abby and Gina had tried drinking three servings of the Breakfast drink for about two weeks last semester. It didn’t work and both young women felt weak and shaky from completely eliminating an actual meal or meals from their diets.

The problem is; we’re about 20 pounds heavier than when we graduated from college. Gina winced as she spoke. Abby added, At that rate of about 6 pounds a year, can you picture us in ten years? Both women shrieked so loudly that Norman, Abby’s black cat, looked up from the chair between them. Gina added, Right now, we’re not fat. We’re just really well-fed looking.

Right, we’re substantial and healthy. It’s probably better to have some weight on us with all the stress we’re facing in school. Once we get jobs, we can diet more easily but in the meantime let’s start the walking/running program we tried last spring. We’ll each do it once a day for ½ hour and keep a log. We can compare notes and encourage each other.

Gina offered, We can do it as often as we can and compare our results. It’ll be lots of fun and at best we can lose a few pounds. At worse, we won’t gain. They decided