The 'N' Word, Book 1 (26 page)

Europeans showed up in North America approximately in the year 1620. It was not in 1492, because Christopher Columbus didn’t actually set foot on American soil. He was in the West Indies, not the new world. The Pilgrims that came here in 1620 were originally believed to have come from England, but there is evidence that they were first in Holland as well. You are here, living and breathing, due to your ancestors. Without our forefathers and mothers, we would not exist.

Your ancestors were not the original Americans, Aaron; Native Indians were. I am not going to write out hundreds of pages about the history of America, because it would truly turn into a book of information, but I say all of this to say to you that, if you want an ‘All white America’, to ‘restore’ a country to its former glory, then please note that this ‘former glory’ is not one that includes Europeans or their descendants. To me, an all white America is not a utopia; it is anything but. You have this idea no doubt that if you woke up tomorrow and everyone who wasn’t white were removed, the country would suddenly thrive.

You couldn’t be farther from the truth. This need to hate and hurt and destroy is what connects you and your ilk. Let’s say you got your wish. Once that element is removed, you will feel as if you’ve lost a limb because these emotions and racially driven actions have become a part of who you are. People who thrive off negativity will eventually turn on each other, in order to derive that same sense of superiority and security if the source of their animosity is removed.

So, this land was never ‘all white’ to begin with, Aaron. White and pure are not synonymous, either. Acts of violence, political corruption and misdeeds are not respecters of race, age, gender/sex, sexual orientation, religion, nationality, and creed. I do not believe in a grander race, nor do I find racism acceptable in any form or fashion. If you choose to not like someone, not want their company, it should be based on how that person has behaved, treated you, or conducted themselves with the general public.

As I’ve stated to you previously, you are a very intelligent man. That is what lured me to you in the first place; and then, from that, came other attractions based on your personality and the manner in which you expressed yourself. The attraction grew between us, and so did an undeniable attachment, dare I say, love. I think it is rather sad that with all of that intelligence you possess, you are brainwashed and filled with so much hostility towards the majority of the world population.

You cannot say that you do not like people of A, B, and C categories, if you have not met all people in the A, B, and C classifications. People are people, Aaron. There are good people and not so good people walking the Earth. I am disappointed in this turn of events, but feel that we did not begin corresponding by accident, Aaron. We’ve shared so much, become comfortable with one another, and formed a friendship. I have told you things that mean a great deal to me, and I’m convinced you’ve done the same.

There is a reason for this current discussion and after I got over my initial shock and anger at your declarations, I realized that we are in fact being presented with an opportunity to dig deep, reach for and teach one another. As far as the phone call, yes, I’d be interested in verbally conversing with you, but only if you are open to hearing another opinion about these topics. Just let me know the day and time, and I will make sure that I am available.

Sincerely,

Melissa

Aaron looked at the letter, glossing over the words now as he slowly folded it back into its original shape. Though she was polite, there was a distinct chill woven into the written words. Her typical softness, her kind and true nature was all but gone. This one felt like a good ass whooping from a person like… well, like Dr. Owens. She used big words, grand ideas. The letter she chose to write was disinfected, sterile, void of the passions of letters past, and yet, still, it smelled of sweetness, divinity… with a touch of suffocated hostility. He realized with certainty that he’d drawn close and comfortable with a damn liberal! Worst of all, she was an intelligent liberal, a rare breed indeed, and to top it all – the woman baked things that made his taste buds get up and sing. She had the best of intentions, and for that, he was a bit forgiving…

As he’d stated, though, he wasn’t one to miss an opportunity due to political differences. Besides, though educated and apparently a bit naïve, Melissa had not stated anything he hadn’t heard before. Now, her word choice at various intervals was a bit surprising, but the concepts? Nah, he’d seen them espoused a million times. He appreciated her attempts, nevertheless.

I care about her. We can talk about this…

He leaned over to the side of the bed, pushed past a small paper cup filled with old water, peppered with bits of unknown debris, and grabbed his notebook.

Melissa,

It is apparent to me that I’ve struck a chord. I apologize if I upset you, but I don’t apologize for the truth. I am more than willing to discuss this with you further, and I’m glad you didn’t write me off due to this. I am familiar with the old, beaten story about how white people were not here first, that the Indians were, Christopher Columbus was a buffoon, and all the rest of that rhetoric. That has nothing to do with who made this great country what it is today. This country was built mainly on white logic, reasoning, and inventions. The Indians had done nothing but prance around with rain sticks praying to a bunch of gods that did not exist, and the Africans were only good at following labor instruction, and barely did that correctly. One of the greatest mistakes we as white Americans did was to import the Africans.

Anyway, we can discuss more of this later. You stated you do wish to talk to me on the phone, and the timing of me receiving this letter is perfect because I was given the green light earlier today.

I have the day and time that we can talk. I hope you are free at the end of this week, on Friday. At 4:00 P.M., I am allowed to have a twenty-minute phone call with you. You are to call the prison, at which time I will be alerted. Then, I’ll be allowed to speak in a private location. By the way, I dreamt of you last night and the way you tried to educate me just now kind of turned me on.

His lips kinked in a smile as he continued to write out the words…

I like that… I like strong women who can speak their mind but not try to railroad and become overly emotional in the conversation. I like that you appear to have kept your cool and simply stated things as you see them. You didn’t regress to name calling and personal attacks. And perhaps you should have because all you’ve done is make me want you THAT much more.

We will talk soon.

A.P.

“
Y
ES, SAFETY.
S
AFETY
is important for children, Aaron. When was that safety challenged?”

They looked at one another for a moment or two, and after a brief internal battle during which he vied to pull the plug once more, Aaron cleared his throat and threw caution to the wind.

What do I have to lose at this point?

“Over time, it became apparent to me that my mother grew jealous of all the love Patti got from everyone and how much I liked ’er, despite how good she was to Mama, too. She’d loan Mama money, give it away more times than not when Mama was out of work and Dad had spent the little we had on some ‘sure bet.’ But then, one day, she and Patti got into it real bad.”

“An argument? What happened between them?”

“They got to fightin’ like people sometimes do, only this had some serious consequences. I was upset as I sat there on the broken down couch in our living room and Cuddie, our mutt dog, was on my lap. They were getting so loud, I was afraid Cuddie might take a piss on me. He got real nervous when voices were raised and well, since voices were
always
raised in my house, that was pretty much all the time. Anyway, I had—”

“Wait, stop right there.” Dr. Owens put his hand up as if needing a time out. “Describe Cuddie for me and what you were feeling while Patti and your mother argued.”

“…It was a dog.” Aaron shrugged. “What the hell does it matter what he looked like?”

“Aaron, just do it, please.”

“Why do you ask stupid crap like this all the time? I get the whole food thing before, but you keep doing this and I just don’t understand it… Make me understand.”

“Because it will draw you back into that moment much easier. Dig deep, Aaron. It will make the memory more vivid and things you thought you’d forgotten will come alive and fresh. We need that to happen; it’s essential. I’m also asking you to do it so that you can find a center point because, as you delve deeper into the memory, I fear you may psychologically disengage. This exercise will help prevent that. Do you understand now?”

“…Yes.” He nodded.

“This was a pivotal time in your life. It is when you no longer felt protected after experiencing the love of a surrogate mother for so long. So, I want you to go into that scene, that memory, that feeling, and I want you to give me
all
of it and I want you to stay there in the moment, and deliver the entire scenario.”

Aaron swallowed and sat a bit straighter, hating what Dr. Owens wanted him to do…

What if in some way this does help me, though? What if this is not just a bunch of bullshit and this man actually knows what he’s doing? Why should I be so afraid?

He glanced at the painting with the little boy holding the rifle, and continued…

“Cuddie was the color of bird shit… He was off white and his eyes looked like globs of snot. No one knew how old the fucker was. I found him outside one day after rain had turned to hail. Hail? Isn’t that crazy? Hail in Alabama. It was like some sort of biblical warning or something. He was hidin’ under a car, ribs showin’ and shakin’, but I loved him all the same. That particular day, he sat on my lap with his matted fur and stinking from the rotten teeth crammed into his tiny mouth. We ain’t have no money for a veterinarian to get them worked on or pulled. Didn’t make me any difference. I think I needed
him
more than he needed me. Nevertheless, I ran my hands over him, hugging him, as my mother, standing 5’11 and thin as a goddamn devil hair noodle, got all in Patti’s face.”

“Devil hair?” Dr. Owens smirked.

“Yeah. She don’t deserve to be called no angel, even if it’s just about food… Anyway, Patti confronted her about all the bruises all over me and Joe Joe’s body – that was the nickname for my brother. My mama tried to come back for her, cuss ’er out real good, but she didn’t back down. Patti wasn’t scared of Mama, Dr. Owens. Patti wasn’t scared of no damn body and I suspect my mother hated that, too. This little short ass, fat woman who walked with a crazy wobble, man, rode big ass Harley motorcycles, bragged about knowing Lynyrd Skynyrd band members and hangin’ out with them back in the day… She had a smart mouth and was smart in the head, too, and she’d grown up in a rough place.”

“Where?”

“Bessemer, Alabama. She had the softest heart I’d ever gotten next to. At the time I didn’t realize how much, but I loved Patti, Dr. Owens. I used to wish she was my mother every goddamn night. In my mind, I’d pretend that my mama abandoned me and she got custody.”

They were quiet for a moment. The soft music continued to play, soothing him just so. But then, the hairs on the back of his neck rose in warning. Not because he was afraid of Dr. Owens – but he had fear of his own self now that the gates were open, and things he hadn’t discussed or thought about in years were being unleashed.

“Mama didn’t too much care for Patti,” he began again. “Getting into her business like that made the whole jealousy thing grow five more heads and scream out. You see, I’d never told Patti that Mama was beating the shit out of me.”

“I see. You say you never told Patti, but I assume she’d asked you at some point in time if you were being mistreated?”

“Yeah, she’d ask me, and I’d say I was playin’, fell off my bike, horsin’ around, or got into another tussle with Joe-Joe. I knew better than to tell on Mama, let the truth be known. Nothing good would come of it, and now, I’d lost the only woman that gave a damn about me, because my face told on me without my consent.”

“Your face told on you without consent… Wow Aaron, that is an interesting choice of words.”

The man continued to scribble line after line on his pad of paper. The process had initially made Aaron a bit uneasy, but now the sound of the tip of the pen swirling across the paper proved to be rather therapeutic as well.

“Mama took that all out on me, accused me of running my lip, not telling Patti that I got whooped on for smartin’ off, being disobedient, not cleaning up after myself, things like that.”