I Am Not My Skin [ UNDER EDITING ]

Chapter 10:

When I got home, my feet were killing me, I dropped by Jamal earlier to check on him. I couldn't go back to the funeral home and my mother offered to help and took over the rest of the proceedings.

Mrs. Brown's funeral would take place in the next two days and with the help of Carter, Jamal would be able to send his beloved grandmother off but only in cuffs and then they would take him back to prison. I didn't want for it to be that way because I knew he was innocent, however did it turn out this way? No, I know, because had the shoe been on the other foot, things would have turned out much different then what it is. Lies were instead more interesting than the truth.

I tossed my handbag on the couch and kicked off my sneakers, my feet were truly killing me. I worked a late night shift and I couldn't be home for dinner and sitting around the big table as a family, that was the only thing I have missed for the day, to see my family around the table talking and laughing.

I loved all the stories they shared especially Sam, he was such an adventurous young boy. There was never a dull moment, somehow he could always sense when I was sad and he would lighten up my mood, he was what I called my smile keeper. It still felt like yesterday when I held his small body in my arms, the first time he smiled he had my heart and from that moment on he became my baby, and it turns out the older they get, the more demanding they become and talk back.

My mother came by the hospital earlier to fill me in on the arrangements of Mrs. Brown's funeral and she also got the chance to pick up her sweet treats. I shiver to think of how Sergeant Connor almost struck me back in retaliation across the face, and now that had me thinking... Does he hit on his wife whenever she struck a nerve or speak her mind? Or worse, does he lay his hands on his children whenever they did something he did not approve of? What a disgrace he was for the uniform he had on, and the way he treated Johnny gave me some realization that he treated everyone as scum.

He was a man with no compassion, and to top it off he was a slob. Instead of washing his hands like a normal being, he licked it, does he touch others with those filthy hands and he has the nerve to call everyone out.

It felt so good to slap him across the face but I feared once Jamal was back in his care that he would mistreat him, and do him harm every chance he got due to my actions. We awaited for a court date to his hearing, I'd love to personally see this young lady who told everyone Jamal was the one who raped her. What would she possibly be gaining out of all of this? Did she and Jamal perhaps know each other from school or was she confused and just pointed at the first person she could find?

My phone was switched off, I just couldn't concentrate with all the beeping and the ringing. I needed to focus and gather my thoughts, the station opened my eyes and it made me realize that your voice didn't really matter there if you didn't have a pale complexion. All my life I have been treated different because I was dark skinned but was of mixed race, it hurts because I longed to be treated the same as everyone else. My granny had a dark complexion and she always used to tell me that it wasn't my skin that made me but rather my intelligence. We used to cuddle in the living room with our blanket nicely covered and comfortable, and she would tell me all sorts of stories from her childhood. Those were my absolute favorites.

And mind you it was at a time where black women were just seen as maids, cleaning the houses and cleaning up after what they would call 'Baas' (Boss) and it was at a very delicate time too.

During the apartheid-era and my grandma would tell me how she saw as people fought for their freedom, where a black person was seen as less of a human being. They were looked down upon and they were forced to forget their languages and learn a brand new one, Afrikaans.

She would teach it to me and some of the things she would tell me in the language sounded so beautiful. It was unlike anything I have ever heard, oh how I long to feel her gentle skin again. Her wrinkles showed a sign of being wise and she was proud of it. She looked awfully young for her age, it's genetic so my father told me. Maya was very young when she died, around the age of seven and how I wished that she would stay a little longer. There is never the right time to say goodbye to loved ones, especially when that loved one was near and dear ones heart.

I walked around the house and followed the photos that were against the walls. So many fond memories and so many great times we have all shared, I am so blessed to have such a warm and loving family by my side. My mother was the pillar of strength, and to think of all the sacrifices she has made just to keep us all happy. My biggest accomplishment was to have her forget all she has ever been through.

I wanted to take away the hurt and all the pain, knowing that she suffers every night for the loss of her brother, he was shot and their excuse were, "They thought he carried a gun." But in truth, they could see that he was carrying a carton of milk my grandmother had sent him to buy at the store because a black man walking into any store was sure to rob the owner, right? NO! That is another stereotype and one our brothers have to pay everyday with their lives, they were being haunted down like animals each and everyday.