C A T C H 22 |BWWM|

Ch. 15 • I Don't Want Her, I Don't Want Him

Jackson, MS. November 1943
Monday, 6:45 am

Paislee

"Daddy, it's too hot outside!"

I whined like a newborn baby causing my father to simply sigh. We were at a family gathering, five-year-old me was fed up with the pesky bugs and obnoxious heat. Mississippi at its finest—The month of August.

"I know baby girl" he kissed my forehead. "We'll be out of here in a few. Your mama hasn't seen her folks in a couple of years hon"

I shrugged and escaped from my daddy's arms, leaping onto the park's grass. The other kids—my cousins—played on the playground happily. As if the heat was as harmless as a fly.

The Blue Bell ice cream tubs were gone from the coolers, lemonade pitcher empty, and my mouth was getting drier and drier. I walked around the park mindlessly with an ambition to quench my thirst. Finally looking up from the cement, a tall shiny water fountain met my eyes. Squealing in delight, I used my tiny tippy toes to reach the cool refreshing water.

"What do you think you're doing young lady?"

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. My thirst was satisfied.

"I'm drinking water, sir. . ."

"You do not talk back to me!"

I flinched. The older white man's brown eyes were squinted scarily. His body towered mine—which was all of three feet.

"I wasn't talkin'–"

"–you see here, girl" He pointed to a sign. "Whites only. You don't touch anything that says white, Negro"

"But I–"

The man had shoved me away, sending me into the rough cement and causing it to scrape the skin. My bottom lip quivered as a wail started to erupt from my throat. I looked down at my knee that was bleeding badly and felt the sting in my arm.

"Learn next time child! Stay on your side, and don't touch things that aren't yours!" He bent over so our faces were closer. I could see the familiar tint of hatred that I had been exposed to. "Oh, shut up! Nigg–"

° ° °
I woke with a start this morning. The tomato-red face, rotting, yellow teeth, and brown eyes staring me down in the face. But after I blinked twice I realized nothing was there but my moon-lit walls and window.

That was the first time. First time I was called that word. I remember running back to my daddy—blood still dripping down my knees and legs—and caved in his arms. I had told him what happened with a wobbly voice and once I told him what he said to me, I expected my daddy to save me. To go find this God awful man and beat him up, but instead, my daddy held me and did nothing. Kissed my cheeks and wiped my knees, before telling me we had ten minutes left.

"Lee? Time to get up!"

Daddy's voice vibrated against the door. I didn't move but instead pulled the covers closer to my chin. The sun was just rising barely and I wasn't ready to fully wake up. I didn't want to go to school, or see those girls, or see Bev, or see. . . Him—Deen. I didn't want to see anyone. Simple as that.

"Lee?"

"Come in," I said to daddy.

A groan escaped my lips as I thought about the events that happened on Friday. I'm not proud, and especially not that I lost yet two more friends.