This is the third installment of an ongoing series! If you're interested in starting at the beginning you can read it here. If you're looking for the second installment look here or read the third installment here.
Bill
It was her eighth week working for Jack. She had been coming home later and later. She’d been fighting back when it came to sex. Arguing as to when they would buy the new car. And someone had said she was walking with a Negro. Bill didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t understand why she’d been doing this. Sitting in his office he kept running it in his mind. He was being the man, so why shouldn’t she be the woman? It just wasn’t right. With an id that had raped an ego so many times he was left rationally impotent. He couldn’t think of anything real or sincere further than that.
“Charlie! Where you headed?” The accountant sighed.
“Supply closet.”
“Can you grab me some paper clips?” Bill happily asked
“Get them yourself.” Without hesitation Bill grabbed his stapler and whipped it across the room through the hallway and into wall right next to Charlie’s head. Leaving the little man petrified.
“And a stapler, Charlie.” Charlie ran out of the door way to the supply closet. Fearfully feeling that a man was a man and a woman was a woman.
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Alex
Alex’s time at Wick Mill had started to garner attention on the little boulevard. Initially invisible, the residents of the street could not help but notice the consistent arrival and exodus of the Negro. On the eighth week of work Alex had exited as he always had. With the paper bundle of Sophie’s work under his arm he was ready to stroll down the street. Alex loved the end of the day. With the setting sun behind him the world transformed from what it was to a marigold orange. With the day fleeting the darker realities of his life were softly lit and bearable.
After locking the door of the publishing house behind him, he smiled at the orange hallelujah and began on his way. He didn’t wave at the people, he hadn’t the courage for that. However, he did smile at the men and step to the side of the women. Past the bakery Alex stepped down from the sidewalk to the street. Ready to cross to the bus stop at the other side at the street, he looked both ways before being abruptly stopped by a terrifyingly well-known force.
“Stop right there.” Ordered the officer. He was dressed in his black uniform. With its cut sharp corners and familiar design the outfit gleamed with domination, even against the evening light. Like most, the officer was shorter than Alex. Looking down at him hurt Alex. The officer’s badge glared brightly against his eyes. “What are you doing around here?” He quickly asked.
“Just walking home, sir.” There was a protocol to this. They had taught him this in Tuskegee. It was always “sir” or “yes, sir” and if things were to get violent he would flop to the ground after the first strike. Alex played the protocol in his head again and again. Each time falling short when it came to thinking about the folder in his arm. He couldn’t lose it. And if he had it taken his life would crumble around him.
“You work around here?”
“Yes, sir. I clean at Wick Mill over there.” Turning to point at the brownstone Alex returned to the face of the officer’s speculative gaze. He didn’t move for a minute.
“You the janitor?” Alex nodded. “You’re wearing a tie.” Alex couldn’t think, his hand slowly began to wobble. It was all he could do to contain a gulp of panic. Restraining himself physically his mind went to blank and the words that came out were as new to him as they were to the officer.
“I’m going out, sir.” Alex hated the idea. “Juke joint in Compton” The officer quickly perked up.
“Juke joint in Compton?”
“I mean Oakland, sir.” The words were rushed and almost offensively so. The officer looked at him even longer before smirking.
“You from down South?” He wasn’t but nodded anyway. “I thought so. We don’t call’em Juke Joints here. They’re clubs.” The officer laughed knowingly. “You new here, boy?”
“Yes, sir.” He laughed even more.
“Well hay seed I was too. Just stay where you are and move on yonder. And take off that tie. Yup, show up wearing that they’ll think you’re working.” He laughed further. Alex did too. In the fit of confidence his mind continued with what it had already succeeded in.
“Oh, I am, sir.” He laughed. Again regretting himself.
“Yeah? You a waiter?” Alex didn’t want another mistake so be simply smiled and nodded again. “That’s good for you. Working hard. Now I know you’re from the south!” They laughed and pointed like old friends even longer. “Hey, what ya got there?” pointing to folder in Alex’s arm.
“It’s nothing, sir.” The officer laughed again.
“What’s in the folder?”
“Just some papers, sir.” He stopped laughing and his face hardened for a moment.
“I said what is it?” And just like that the air was gone, the laughter too, and Alex could hear to world abruptly change.
“Its- Its music. Sheet music. I play it at the club.” The officer stopped for a moment and nodded at the response. “Waiter and musician, huh? Well good for you. Have fun and don’t forget yourself.” He walked away. Taking the air with him as he left. Holding his breath Alex painfully exhaled as the officer turned the corner. Lurching forward he fell to the ground. On the ground he saw Colorado and his little box. Alex angrily stared at the man in the dark, remembering himself .While the world shifted to dark.
