Читать книгу Journey of a Cotton Blossom - Jennifer Crocker-Villegas - Страница 17

10

Blind Love

Joseph had a new pep in his step. He was on the road to finally meet his mother and—don’t forget—the good senator. He had played this scenario out in his head a thousand times. He would show up and talk to the senator. Joseph would start by explaining to the man how it was his dream to live with his mother in their own home. He would then present the senator with all the money he had saved as payment for the release of his mother. It clearly would not be much money to the senator, but out of the kindness of his heart, he would indeed oblige. With such a convincing young boy in front of him, how could he not? He was, after all, none other than a great senator of the United States of America, bound to uphold certain standards. He then would hand Joseph his money back and say, “Why don’t you keep this and use it toward your new home together?”

Joseph went over and over this scenario in his head. Every day on his long walks toward Doddsdale, this was all he could think about—this and what his mother would be like. He pictured himself walking up a long, gravel driveway with a majestic white home sitting at the very end. As he walked up, he could see a very regal-looking man with a white beard smiling and waving at him. It must be the senator. He seemed so welcoming and warm.

On the right-hand side, just before the house, there was a giant oak tree like the one under which he’d found refuge at the Kingsleys. He pictured his mother on a swing hanging from that large oak tree by two ropes that held a piece of wood between them, functioning as a little seat. There she sat, swinging so effortlessly. She looked flawless. She was wearing a beautiful, flowing white sundress with little yellow and pink flowers all over it. She had a beautiful, soothing yellow cotton blossom in her hair, a slight touch of soft pink caressing the tips of its petals as the sun did her face. She would see him and immediately know that he was her baby, her one and only, stripped out of her arms at birth. She would run to him, and tears would fall down her face out of pure joy and overwhelming emotion. He would reveal to her his plan to talk to the senator, and they would then go get a home together, where they would live happily ever after.

He continued to walk down the road to Doddsdale with these merry thoughts dancing in his head. This was a rarity, so he was really enjoying himself every step of the way. He felt like the sun was warming his heart and soul, with God smiling down on him. He was on the top of the world in this moment.

Joseph had calculated it would take him about three days to walk there. That included time to stop for sleep and to eat some of the snacks he had packed. However, he did not believe he would be sleeping a whole lot because of his sheer excitement. He had also set up a water-drinking schedule to ensure he would not run out. He had hopes that he would run across a fountain or hose on his journey so he could refill. Of course, he would need either a fountain approved for the colored or an unattended hose. This was a “kind” way of saying to the non-Caucasian community, “You are not human. You are afflicted with something we don’t want to catch.” This was all Joseph had known. These laws had been in place long before his birth. He found them ridiculous, but it was not something he was going to rebel against alone as a young black boy in the South. That would be a death sentence.

During the early spring in the South, temperatures can range from hot to cold within a few hours. One day you could be in shorts, and the next, layered in coat and pants. This was why he had packed himself a range of clothing options.

Joseph was making great time. Sometimes he walked late into the night, when it was just him and the stars. He found it so peaceful. He was able to take in everything around him on his journey. The beauty overshadowed the dirt he stirred up with each step. He was amazed at all the oak trees, the large, blossoming magnolias, and the sweet smell of the honeysuckle that lined his path. Occasionally, he passed a little farmhouse, but overall, it was just him and nature. He felt a sense of safety in its embrace.

Joseph did not often pass by people or cars since he was in such a rural area, but when he did, no one paid him much mind, which was good. He knew not to look anyone directly in the eye. This is the same cautionary information for if you were to come in contact with a leopard. If you look a leopard in the eye, it sees it as a challenge and will attack. Oddly, the same went for these townspeople in the South. The difference is that a leopard does not discriminate.

These people did discriminate against those they lovingly referred to as “the Negros.” Never mind if it was an adult or a child. Growing up, Joseph had heard many horrific stories about people he knew being attacked. He had even seen this ignorant brutality several times, so he learned to keep his head down and stay quiet. That was how you stayed alive in these parts. Fortunately, the people he passed probably just figured he was the new help for a neighboring house. The townspeople in these areas sure liked to gossip, but they didn’t care too much about who had or didn’t have new help.

Joseph sensed that he was getting closer to his destination. He knew he had walked a long distance. According to his calculations, he should be arriving sometime the next afternoon. It was a hard walk, but luckily, he was a strong boy. He would just keep walking south until he reached that Doddsdale sign. After that, it would be smooth sailing. It was as if he could not walk fast enough, but he knew he had to pace himself. He didn’t want to overdo it and become sick or excessively hot. That would require too much of the water he’d brought. He still had not come across a fountain or hose he could use to refill his bottle. He had been very sparing with the water, but, boy, he sure was thirsty. If it had been summertime, he never would have made it.

The sun was starting to go down. He knew he would need his energy for all the excitement tomorrow, so he decided to hunt for a safe place to sleep. He wandered off the road and found a hay barn in the woods. Though he checked around for signs of activity in the area, he saw none besides some livestock tracks. This would work great: shelter and safety. There was a bit of loose hay on the ground. It was a tad moldy, but dry. He gathered some into a pile. It would make for a comfortable bed for the evening. It was way better than just the tough ground, which was how he had slept the previous two nights.

It hadn’t taken him long at all to find this place, which allowed him to sit and enjoy the sunset. He could not remember a time in his life when he’d ever been happier and able to enjoy life without fear of retaliation. He thanked God for this moment, and he really took it all in. He even talked to Berta a bit. He sure wished she could be there with him to enjoy this sunset. She would have loved it.

As the sun went down, his appetite rose. He reached into his bag to pull out dinner: deer jerky and a roll. He was about to take his first bite when he heard screaming in the distance.

“You get back here, you little ingrate! I will find you . . . I don’t care. Just go out there and be with the loose niggers!”

Joseph then heard footsteps steadily getting closer. His heart jumped. All his elated emotions that he had been feeling were gone in an instant, replaced by fear. The footsteps sounded like they were in a full sprint, and the crunching sounds of the leaves and pine needles rapidly got closer and closer. Where was he to go? Where was he to hide?

He was panicked and had no clue what move to make. Just then, he remembered the large rolls of hay in the corner of the barn. If he hurried, he could bury himself behind them. He jumped up, grabbed his bag, and darted behind all that hay. He burrowed in as quietly and quickly as he could. He became very still, but so did the footsteps. Listening intently, he then heard what sounded like sobbing coming from the front of the barn.

Who is crying in here? he wondered.

Was he hearing things? He wanted so badly to see who it was and what was going on, but he stayed put. His fear overruled his curiosity.

About fifteen minutes had passed, and the sobbing continued. Joseph’s curiosity was growing stronger by the minute. He had also grown weary of being so still. A fourteen-year-old does not have that kind of patience—at least, this fourteen-year-old boy didn’t.

Joseph hated when people cried. He always wanted to make it all better. He was a caring young fellow. Between his curiosity and his sympathetic heart, he could no longer remain hidden. Beside him, there was an opening between two of the hay rolls. He pushed himself up to the opening by grabbing the wall and one of the rolls of hay as leverage. He could only see through the crack in the rolls one eye at a time, but he was able to see a young girl. She looked to be about his age. She was sitting there sobbing, her rosy-cheeked face buried in her hands.

He wanted to help, but he did not want to frighten her. He just softly said, “Hello. I am Joseph. Don’t be scared.”

The girl turned around with a look of sheer fright on her face. She started to scream.

In a panicked voice, Joseph said, “No, please. I do not want to get into trouble. I just escaped where I grew up, and I am on my way to meet my mother for the first time.”

He should not have been so divulging, but it just blurted out of his mouth so fast, like he had no control. Her face shifted. He could see a slight ease come over her.

“My name is Sarah,” she responded in a soft, unsure tone.

“May I come out?” Joseph asked.

“Yes,” she uttered with a little hesitance and a wee bit of curiosity in her voice.

He crawled out slowly so as not to spook her. He walked out from behind the hay and sat down on the opposite side from her in the front of the barn. He wanted to keep his distance so she would not feel afraid; also, honestly, girls still scared him a bit. Since he had not been around many, he was not sure how to act around them yet.

They talked for a few minutes—only small talk. They shared a giggle here and there. This went on for a few more minutes. After they had both loosened up a bit, Sarah decided to ask Joseph a real question, one that carried a lot of weight.

“How did you end up in one of our barns?”

He could have given her a simple answer, but instead, he just spilled it all out. He told her the whole story, feeling he could trust her. He’d gotten a sense of who she was, and he felt oddly comfortable with her, as if they had been friends forever.

Joseph started from the bitter beginning and did not skip any details. During his whole story, it was obvious how caring and attentive she was. At times, it looked as if his tale could be physically hurting her, she was so empathetic toward him. She thought of him as brave, and at the same time, she hurt for him. As Joseph was finishing his tragic story, he thought to himself that Sarah might be hungry or thirsty, so he offered her some of his water and food. He knew that he did not have the water to spare, but he could not resist offering her whatever she might desire.

He had never met someone this beautiful. Sure, she was a pretty girl on the outside. She had long, curly golden hair and skin like a newborn, with sun-kissed cheeks and light chocolate eyes that could make anyone stop in their tracks. He was almost positive he could see heaven through her eyes, and it seemed she felt the same way about his. She was very physically attractive, but he did not really notice this until after they had talked a bit. He had never felt this way with anyone. She was so easy and fun to talk to. She was intelligent, she made him laugh, and she seemed to have such a gentle spirit, which Joseph picked up on easily. Those qualities were why he found her so beautiful. They enhanced her outer beauty. Everything about her was perfect to him. Joseph sat there with the hope the night would never end.

It was very strange in that day and time that Sarah never once seemed to even acknowledge that Joseph was black and she was white. It was as though they were just old friends with no cultural barriers between them. So Joseph decided to ask Sarah a question that was tickling his curiosity. “Why don’t you care that I am a Negro?”

This was a colossal rarity in this area. It was something Joseph had never seen or experienced. Without hesitation or discomfort, Sarah answered his question:

“My daddy is a very hateful man, and it got worse after my mama died. I always heard him being hateful to all the people at my house—calling them names, screaming at them—and I heard him beat them. The horrid cries they let out still haunt me. There were times that people just disappeared. I knew not to ask questions, partly out of fear for my own safety and partly because I didn’t want to hear out loud the answer that I already knew to be true.

“Sometimes the screams kept me up at night. I would just lie in my bed and cry for them. I would lie there and imagine that I had all the bravery and strength in the world and that I could run out there and save every last one. Many were my friends; they were more like my family than my blood father. They loved me and accepted me for who I was. I would imagine that I was able to save the world one person at a time, all while just lying in my little bed, helpless to their cries. My daddy often does the same thing to me because I, too, do not fit his standards of perfection.”

Joseph stopped to ponder to himself. How in the hell could this girl not fit her father’s standards? She isn’t black, she is surely Christian, and she seems to be smart.

These were the only criteria for perfection Joseph had known: white, rich, and Christian. Society had taught him these were the standards by which all people were measured. If you had this holy trinity, you could rule the world. This was what Joseph had grown up with: the falsified view that if you were not white and not Christian, you failed. Joseph was coming to the realization that, in the eyes of society, only white people could reach perfection—the true, “Christianly” standard of Jesus. They paid no mind that Jesus himself had not been white. It was blasphemy to speak of such. Joseph, too, thought that Jesus had been white because that was what Mrs. Kingsley had taught him.

Sarah continued to explain. “I don’t want to grow up to be a mean, hateful person like my daddy. I feel like we are all the same. I heard a kind voice and a gentle spirit when you spoke to me. That is all that matters to me. I was given a gift to not see the differences in people. I can judge them based only on their actions and their spirits. You can believe me when I tell you that I truly do not see color, because I am blind.”

Joseph had no idea. He stumbled for the right words to say, and nothing came to mind. He just uttered, “I am so sorry.”

Sarah smiled and said, “It’s nothing to be sorry about. I view it as a gift. Maybe if I had my sight and was not different from others, I would not be able to be so open and accepting of people. Maybe if I could see, I would not feel a connection to those viewed as different. I might end up like the rest of them. I don’t ever want that. I like being different. It allows me to see things in ways that many others don’t. It allows me to open my mind to all that is out there and to what God has in store for me without manmade rules directing me. Instead, I am able to think outside the rules and allow only God’s guidance to lead me.”

Joseph was in pure awe of Sarah. She was so wise, way beyond her years. He had never heard anyone speak like this before. She spoke with no barriers, no judgment, and no hate. She spoke only with love. He knew at this moment that this was the girl he wanted to marry. Never mind that he was a fourteen-year-old African-American boy and she was white. Joseph just didn’t care. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what he felt. He also knew that God hadn’t spent his time making both of them only to place barriers on their love, no matter what society had taught them. He knew there was nothing wrong with how he felt; to him, it did not matter what anyone else thought. Sarah also felt that warmness and a special connection to Joseph.

The night was growing shorter, so they agreed to find each other once they were old enough. They scooted closer to one another and lay down with their heads tilted toward the stars. Joseph explained to Sarah all the shapes that the different stars made and what they looked like when they twinkled.

Both secretly wished things could be different. Sarah reached over and grabbed Joseph’s rough, teenage hand. She caressed it once with her thumb, and they fell asleep hand in hand. The next morning, just as the sun was coming up, Joseph looked over at Sarah while she was still sleeping. He felt so warm and happy inside. It was a bittersweet moment. He had found his soul mate in this world, but soon, he would have to leave her. Sarah slowly opened her eyes and smiled with the sweetest, most honest smile he had ever seen. She suddenly jumped up.

“I have to get back. My daddy is going to kill me.” She leaned over to Joseph and said, “Don’t forget our pact. When we hit eighteen, we come and find one another.”

Joseph smiled as big as a boy could.

“Yes, yes, I cannot wait,” he said, nodding his head in 100 percent agreement.

He quickly forgot that she could not see that nod and dashing smile, but this made no difference to him. Sarah leaned over and lightly kissed him on his cheek. His entire body turned red, and he felt hot all over. He was as giddy as could be. He thanked her and told her he would never forget this moment. Sarah smiled, then took off, hurrying back down the path from which she had appeared. This was the greatest moment of his life up to this point, and he swore to himself that he would never forget this feeling.

Joseph was very sad as he started to pack up his bag, preparing for the last stretch of his journey. He stopped and reminded himself that today he was going to meet his mother. This shifted his mood and lifted his spirits. As he was placing his things in the duffel bag, he noticed that, miraculously, his water had refilled itself. Sometime in the night, Sarah had sneaked up to her house carrying his water canister. There at the water spigot right outside her father’s bedroom window, she’d filled Joseph’s water. If her father had awakened, all horror would have occurred. Joseph might have never seen her again. Sarah had risked all this for him. She knew he was special. He felt now that he would no longer thirst for water or unconditional love.