Colour My World

The moment she heard the door opening, she knew it was trouble. However she tried, she could not contain herself and a silent weeping sound left her lips. She sat there for a while, her uniform still on and forgotten to put something cold to her face. Now he was at her feet, his knees digging into their carpeted floor, his hands erradicately moving around her face, caressing her skin. Those deep blue eyes of his searching hers, his concern palpable.

“Tell me who did this." His voice was not just worried, it was angry. His voice was not just full of pain, but his fury presented too. Marie shook her head. She could not tell. She loved Jack yet he knew not how to keep his calm. Not when it came to her. He so desperately wanted to defend her, he so desperately wanted to change the world into a fair one, he usually forgot. He forgot he was a young man and she was a young woman, he forgot this was 1966 and not the future and he forgot that the shade of her skin did matter.

“Marie,” his voice turned into a demanding one, “You oughta tell me who, I am your husband for God’s sake!” His hands still moved around her face, caressing her eyesocket, checking for other marks. His hands were cold from the outside wind.

“I will not tell you,” she tried to keep calm. “You will get yourself killed!”

The sky was turning red as she locked the diner up. The keys she threw back through the mailbox. She was not allowed to keep them. You did not give a negro keys to a place and have them keep them. It was too dangerous to give a negro anything.

She smoothed her pink colored uniform straight and pulled at the folds that had appeared in her white apron. She began her walk home, the sun slowly drifting down behind the houses. It was a long walk, but they did not have the money for her to use the bus to get to work. Walking was fine, on evenings as nice as these, she even enjoyed it. Focusing her stare on her alternating feet, she walked with her head down but her spirits up. Every step she made, every time her white working shoes appeared in her glance, she was closer to home. Closer to Jack. She longed for him, his arms around her, so safe, so good.

Awoken from her evening dream, she heard turmoil and screams come from the corner she needed to turn. Hesitantly she approached. The brick wall, the brick corner coming closer with every step. When she stepped across the corner, she could see three figures. Two of them standing above the third. They were policemen, their blue uniforms said as much, and their batons were raised in the sky. With cracks they came down on the black man laying on the pavement. His cries died out in the evening quiet.

She could not move. Even though every fiber of her being begged for her to run, she was as a statue, forced to watch those batons come down and break bones. The hands of the black man covered his face, his body cringed together, letting the blows connect with his back and side. The hits reduced him to a little puddle of hopelessness.

“What do you think you are star’n at, little lady?” One of the guards had seen her and yet again she could not move. She could not speak. All she could do was look into the dark man's eyes, the scared eyes of someone beaten. The fear in him struck her, stupified her.

She should have walked on. She should not have given it another second of her time.

“Yo, Negro!” The officer was losing his patience, yet the man on the ground had gotten a little break from his torture now their focus was on her.

She still could not speak. She wanted to say she wasn’t looking at anything. She had seen nothing and she was minding her own business, returning home. She wanted to let those words travel her lips, she wanted to save herself from a mistake, yet she could not. No sound came from her throat and she stood there. Her white shoes welded to the pavement, her pinkish uniform suddenly two sizes too small, gasping for air.

One of the blue stepped forward and glanced at the baton in his hands, something stopped him and put it on his belt. A sigh of relief filled her body, yet she dared not to let it fly freely.

“Walk on, miss, please walk on,” the black man suddenly said, a desperate cry from a broken man.

Just as her feet started to regain their strength and she raised one of them for the first step, the approaching officer pulled back his arm and let the back of his hand collide with her face. The impact threw her off her feet, her arms breaking her fall. His strong hands hoisted her up again and his strong hold upon her arms felt like he could break her bones at any moment. Adrenaline shot through her as she closed her eyes, preparing for another blow. It did not come, yet his fingers dug into her upper arms, making her struggle not to yelp from pain.

“You did not see a thing,” he hissed at her, she shook her head in fear as he pushed her away. “Get out of my sight you filthy thing!”

Her legs worked again, she ran like she never had before. Her lungs burning, her legs strained, she ran. Ran from the man, ran from the officers.

“MARIE!” His voice thundered now. He was only a young man but his passion would get the better of him one day. “Tell me!” She stood up and shoved her chair back. She had enough, she would not be yelled at in her own home too.

“I am not telling you!” She started yelling. Her hands turned into angry fists. Why couldn’t he just listen to her? Why did he have this pride, this unjustified pride! He would get himself hurt or worse and what good would that do? She was black, they had to live with that. A better day might come, but it was not today. Today they suffered as he had not experienced before. They suffered for her skin, but she would not let him suffer for their love.

“You cannot get even with these men! This was the police Jack! The police! What are you planning to do? Go to the station and tell him how one of the officers hit your wife?! Your BLACK wife?!” She was shaking on her feet.

Jack's frustration was building too, he did not know what to do, she could see it. While she tried to steady her breath, he started pacing up and down their little living room.

“They were beating this man,” she said, her voice trailing off while she tried to push down the memory of his face. She tried to control her thoughts so they would not lead her to the look in that man's eyes, the terror and the bravery when he told her to go and leave him like that. “You cannot believe what I saw...if something like that ever happened to…”

Marie could not finish her sentence. She could not let herself turn that man into Jack, cringing on the ground while batons connected with his pale skin.

“What do you want from me Marie?!” He cried, raising his hand, his wedding band was proudly upon his ringfinger again. Pointing at it, he said: “This means something to me!”

Marie stepped closer and she felt how frustration was radiating through him. She grabbed his hands, and pulled him closer. Their different colored fingers weaving into each other.

“That ring means the same to me,” she whispered, “Yet I need the man that’s wearing it.” Jack looked at the floor of their terrible faulty apartment and it seemed he was calming down, defeated. Softly she let go of him and walked up to the radio, their only expensive appliance. Outside it had gotten dark and their living room was gloomy. Marie kindled one of their old lamps and turned the radio knob, searching for the evening news.

“I’ll make you dinner,” she said softly, wanting Jack to calm down and sit after his long day of work. In the kitchen she started preparing for a simple meal; she was tired and she was drained. The bruise will lighten, the pain will fade.

“I will march Marie,” Jack sounded from the living room. Her heart stopped. She dropped the pan she was holding on the stove and strode back.

“I do not want you hurt!” she raised her voice. She could not stay calm tonight. Not after what she had seen, not after what she had been through. He could not do it! He could not go!

“I will be fine!” Jack said as he raised from his chair. “You cannot deny me a chance to defend my woman, you cannot deny me to defend what is right!”

“I can when it could possibly be a death sentence!” Why didn’t he see. Why didn’t he understand her honor was not worth his pain?