Red White and Black

Chapter Five

Jay C

Jay C slid into the front seat of his car, scorching his arm on the vinyl and his hands on the steering wheel. Cursing under his breath, he glanced back at the house worried Miss Sadie had heard. She never tolerated foul language and when combined with her supernatural ability to hear through solid steel walls, he knew he had risked a good chewing out. More than once he had earned her wrath after a few expletives escaped his mouth.

Sure enough, she stood at the front window; the curtains pulled back and a look on her face that could freeze a charging rhino dead in its tracks. She caught his eye then shook her head and let the curtain drop back into place. A wave of guilt washed over him, cooling and diverting his anger over the encounter with Morris. But that didn't surprise him. Given enough time, he was sure Miss Sadie could find a way to make the Pope feel guilty about something.

He sat for a moment trying to understand why she would get so bent out of shape about his language and yet be so tolerant of it from her racist neighbor, Morris. It just didn't make sense. In fact, it was plain stupid. More guilt hit him when he realized he was criticizing Miss Sadie, the closest thing to a saint this city had ever seen. But it galled him when he remembered the hate written across Morris' face and seeing the word "nigger" form on his lips.

He started the engine and pulled away from the curb, winding his way through the streets, driving aimlessly. The words of Morris continued to grate on him and he found himself grinding his teeth. He clenched his fist and realized he needed to pound something, to lash out and do damage. Every slight he had ever received at the hands of a white man came rushing back into his memory, further fueling his anger and turning it into a white hot rage.

He raked leaves, shoveled snow, collected bottles and cans, whatever it took to bring in a few cents, scraping together enough money to take his momma out to dinner on her birthday. Over the course of several months, he laboriously collected a tiny horde of cash, knowing exactly how he would spend it and anticipating the smile and hug Momma was sure to give him. She worked and worked to put food on the table and a roof over their heads, never taking a day off and never getting a break. He wanted nothing more than to have her be treated like a queen just for once, letting someone else do all the work so's all she'd have to do would be to sit back and relax. It would be a rare occasion-mostly because they never had two dimes to rub together--but Momma deserved it.

When the big day finally arrived, Momma had put on her only dress, one purchased at a garage sale several years earlier and he actually wore a necktie, a clip-on he had recovered at the church lost and found, then they drove out of town to the posh suburbs. They had pored over the television and newspaper advertisements for days, trying to choose just the right spot and making the reservation. When they pulled up in Momma's old beater, she noticed the sign indicating valet parking. "I better be parkin' this myself," she said. "I sure don't want those valets gettin' jealous of this fine automobile!" Jay C had to laugh and Momma laughed too. Jay C could tell it was a real laugh 'cause it went all the way up to her eyes.

Jay C held the door for Momma, proud as punch and as she entered, the décor took her breath away. "Whewee, child! I never thought I could be dinin' at a fine place like this." Jay C gave their name to the hostess who peered at them over her glasses. "Please have a seat, we'll see if your table is ready."

When over fifteen minutes had passed and several other diners had entered and been seated, Jay C approached the hostess, "Ma'am, is our table ready?" The woman wrinkled her nose and suddenly Jay C was aware the tie he wore was a clip-on and his shirt bore a stain that would never come out, no matter how Momma tried to clean it. "I'll check again young man, and let you know."