C A T C H 22 |BWWM|

Ch. 33 • Admit Your Truth

Jackson, MS. March 1944
Friday, 7:09 am

Deen

"I drove up there and almost told the recruiters my situation and tried to reason anything. I didn't think I could do it, Ma," I explained to Mama.

At the kitchen table eating breakfast, I explained to her about the dilemma I had last afternoon. After clearing my head and going out with Paislee, I knew that I had made the right choice. I simply was just overthinking as usual.

"Wait, wait explain all of this over again. Deen, you're making no sense, son, and I need to make sure you won't be going to jail," Ma said.

I took a sip of milk. "I was second-guessing everything about going off to war. Family, friends, the city, and just everything that I experienced. So I went to the recruiter's office but as soon I parked my car, something rushed over me. It was like the truth hit me and I wondered how in the world I thought this was a good idea. I was gonna' look like an idiot."

"Yes, because if you would've made a stupid decision you would be serving time in jail and not in the military. You have to make good decisions you know that right?"

"Yeah, Ma. I just—just didn't know what to do. This is coming upon us and I'm trying to rationalize everything without freaking out," I said.

She grabbed my empty plate that once had corn muffins and grits on it, and brought it over to the sink. Talks like this were always kind of rocky because Ma was always on edge. She had openly expressed all her thoughts and worries and now it was up to me on how I processed it.

"You think? I'm your mother, Deen. I don't like sending you off into foreign places with foreign people." She sighed and plopped a kitchen towel onto the counter. "Enough with the sad talk. You need to get ready for school. You know the drill."

"Sure do."

I stood from the table and jogged upstairs to finish getting ready for the day ahead of me. Despite my dreary morning, I felt that a positive day would arise soon.

° ° °
"Deen Rivera I need your help. Please."

I turned on my heels to be faced with Grace right before me. It was now lunchtime and I had just returned from arithmetic class—of course, my brain was almost fried.

"What, Grace?" I responded.

"I think I'm tired of being. . . Me. This Grace and everything I think I stand for," she started. "Remember when Ida, my sister, got lost? Well, I hate to admit this but I think you were right."

"Right about what?"

Grace and I traveled away from my locker and down the hallway away from the lunchroom. She was picking at her fingers and I sensed the anxiousness that radiated from her. Whenever Ida was brought up, Grace got a little softer each time.

"I care for Ida more than I would like to admit, and no matter how many times I tell myself she's some bastard child, I know it's not true. Ever since she ran away I've been trying to make her feel a little less bad. She thinks everyone hates her and sometimes I can feel this pull in my heart. I hate it sometimes but now it's getting stronger."

"Ida never did anything wrong to you, did she? She never told your parents that she wanted to ruin their marriage, or she never had a say on how or when she was conceived. It's okay to feel for her," I said quietly.

Grace shook her head vigorously. "But my parents, Deen. I want you to help me try to be a better person without having to start completely over. I feel like maybe I could live a little better if I just let myself and others be. Y'know?"