C A T C H 22 |BWWM|

Ch. 25 • Sister, Sister

Jackson, MS. January 1944
Monday 7:30 am

Deen

"Deen you got mail!"

My chucks pounded on the wooden stairs as I clobbered them and walked into the kitchen. In my mother's hand was a sealed envelope. The printed American flag stamp in the left corner and my name printed 'DEEN RIVERA' in the center along with my address. It was from the U.S Military Service.

"Open it, bud," My dad started. "You never know what it could be."

The tips of my fingers started to perspire, getting shaken with nervousness and slick. Taking in a huge breath, I slide my index fingers between the glued paper and tore it open. The letter before me was a jumble of words and my eyes couldn't seem to settle on one single thing. One thing stood out though at the bottom of the paper.

"Mm, it says my departure date is in July. I'll be headed overseas immediately. . . I'll be escorted by train to a harbor and then travel by sea," I mumbled.

"Oh."

Silence. That's all you heard in the kitchen. The reality was setting in that I would be off to war and nobody could do a thing about it. I would soon be in the United States military. Serving my time to my country proudly until death.

I looked over at my mom as a sheen layer of tears glossed her eyes. "I'm okay, Deen. It's just kinda' hard to take in."

"I have about seven months, mama. We gotta' make the best of that time. Everything will be fine."

"But what if something happens overseas and you won't be able to get back home. What if you get hurt–"

"He won't, Laney. I believe in our boy, " dad said.

The excitement that I once had was now replaced with fear. There was no escaping this commitment and I think that's what scared me the most.

"I'll be fine, ma. Just like dad said."

° ° °

It had been about a week since we returned from our winter—or Christmas—holiday. We had spent this week talking about our break and all sorts of things we did and got.

My story was simple. I slept, spent time with my family, and ate loads of food that would soon come back to haunt me. I got a few trinkets as gifts and was thankful for everything and everyone I saw. My new cotton dress shirts and pure silk ties would do me good and the twenty dollars I received would also help me in the long run.

"Hey, Deen. . ."

I turned to see Grace before me leaning against a neighboring locker. The blue in her eyes wasn't as sharp as she peeked at me bashfully. It was almost as if a blanket of shame covered her.

"Hey," I responded.

"Can we talk? Please."

Pausing, I pursued my lips. "Depends. Are you gonna' antagonize me again?"

"No. . . I just need to make sure that what you know doesn't get out. Deen, you don't understand how that could ruin my family. My—My whole family could be wiped out," Grace pressed.

"How? Just do what's right and tell the truth."

She scoffed. "My father is a Klans member. We don't know how to even fix our lips to say 'black' or anything close to that. I've been taught growing up that those people are dangerous animals. That's all I've ever known. That's what people think of when they think of me."