Colour My World

Little curls of smoke were floating towards their ceiling. It was stained, their ceiling was. The house they called their own had drafts, leaking plaster and squeaking doors. Yet it was theirs. She nuzzled up to Jack, burying her face against his chest, sighing in his delicious smell. He sucked at the cigarette in his mouth and the tip lit up as his lips puckered around the stick. Blowing out the smoke into the room he passed the cigarette to her and she took it between her lips. The roast was burned. Dinner was ruined, but they were content. They were together. Every night she worried that he would not return to her unharmed. Every night she waited for him anxiously, whether it was at the diner, where he would drink a coffee after his shift, or at home. He had come home tonight, unharmed and as suave as always. She loved him, this man that treated her like royalty.

They had just loved in a way that Marie couldn't believe any other couple ever had. They had been one soul.

She threw her arm across his stomach and pulled herself close to him. The sheets covered her body on parts and revealed her skin on others. Her chocolate skin, so in contrast with his. He had donned his white sleeveless undershirt, only a few shades whiter than his own skin. Her leg was thrown over his and she slightly lay upon him, pressing her cheek to his chest muscle, just above his heart. She could hear his heartbeat pulsing against her ear.

“Dinner is ruined,” she said with a smile upon her lips. Dinner was totally ruined, they however could not be happier.

“I don’t care about a little burned meat,” he said grinning to her. “Although, I’d love to take you out and have some real good steak in the restaurant downtown.” The hand that was not holding the cigarette circled across the skin on her bare shoulder. Shudders filled her body as he graced her with his fingertips, caressing her skin until it showed goosebumps.

The restaurant downtown. They could not go there. They did not have the money, they did not have the privilege. Actually; she did not have the privilege.

“I’ll wear my best dress,” she mused. It would be the light blue one she had hanging in her closet. It was the one she was married in. A light skyblue dress that reached to her calves. It had little white polka dots and a small white cincture on it. From her savings she had bought white lace gloves and Jack had bought her beautiful flowers, after that, they eloped.

“Honey, you could wear anything,” Jack said as he kissed her frizzy hair. She closed her eyes and pictured them. Outside. Weddingbands on. Her in her blue dress. Jack in a nice suit. His blond hair combed back the way he did. Going out. Actually going out together, the world seeing them for what they were: husband and wife.

It was not their world. It was but a dream. The world will change.

Marie had never thought she would get involved with a white man. She would have never believed it if she’d been told her future. A colored girl with a white man, it was ridiculous. It was far from ridiculous; it was dangerous, and not to forget, it was forbidden.

He had been coming in for every evening this week now. She had been working the late shifts. She did not care for the late shifts, yet Mr. Johnson had told her she would have to start working the late’s, so what had she to do? Refusing or even discussing it would mean her losing the job, if not worse. So she had excepted. Mr. Johnson was a white man. He hired her as a serving maid for his little diner up the road. The late shifts were scary. Only strange folk came in to get their last beer or glass of wine before returning home. She did not care for the late shift, yet what was she to do?

This man was not at all weird. He was young, probably around her age. He came in, would order a cup of coffee and sit. Sometimes he played the jukebox, sometimes he just stared. At anything really. She caught him looking at her a few times. All of those, he smiled as she caught his eyes. It was a bona fide smile. A broad honest smile. She had learned to distinguish a lot of smiles. Pity smiles, scary smiles, cruel smiles. Yet this one was genuine.

He was genuine. He was handsome too. His light skin and blue eyes, with that blond hair, combed back and curling at his forehead, he was a real treat to the eye. She did not watch him much though. Staring at white customers was not something Mr. Johnson was keen on. No, he would not be pleased. One word of a customer, and she’d be in great trouble.

So she kept her head down, worked hard and got paid little. The working class. The negro working class.

“Would you like a refill, sir?” she asked. Her voice was small but the man had heard her alright. He nodded friendly and smiled at her. He had the best boyish grin she had ever seen. Her eyes shot down quickly. Do not stare. Do not stare. She grabbed the coffee mug and poured in the waking black magic until it was full. As she put the mug on his table again, he reached for it and their hands touched. The touch made her jump a little.

“Excuse me sir,” she said apologetically. The touch been nothing less than electric. Something static had shot between them. It had scared her.

“Oh don’t apologize,” he said with that great southern voice, shooting her another smile. From that touch she was lost.

Jack had been consistent. After he’d discovered her working in that diner, he had come by time and time again. She had been wary of him. He seemed like a good guy but a colored girl could never be too careful. She had been distant towards him. It was so dangerous. Most of the time she was beating herself up for even thinking of it. It was ridiculous. It was hazardous and it was foolish! However, she kept catching herself of thinking of him. That smile. That grin. Those great eyes. His kindness fueled her attraction. He had a great lean body, always wearing a button down shirt, that showed the lines of his white undershirt through the fabric. The way he stood up when he left. Sweeping up his jacket as he walked out the door. And every time; he’d look back at her and smile again, before walking out the door.

“I love you,” Marie said and her lips found his once again. He tasted of his cigarette, but his lips were so much sweeter. What they were doing was risky. What they were doing was illegal, at least in their state. Alabama was not a forward thinking place. They were an abomination, together, mixing races and tainting white blood.

“I love you too,” Jack said as she got up. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing you supper, husband,” she said as she started dressing herself in her white knickers and bra.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve such a great woman like you,” he sighed and put out his cigarette, it was up to only a bud.

How can a world be so against this? How can the world be so against the color of my skin and the texture of my hair? If only the world was filled with Jack Adams’. All blond handsome boys with smiles that make you crazy.

“You smiled.” She said before she walked through their bedroom door towards the kitchen.