Loving You is Complicated

The end

"Daddy noo! Please let him go." I screamed and pleaded on bended knee before the white man.

"Shut up nigger" he turned and slapped me across my face

"Nicki, baby, daddy's gone be alright" my dad said with as much confidence as possible. I watched them drag him away from me as he fought to hold back tears but could no longer bear the pain. They had broke through his flesh and were now dull dozing through his soul. Whipping the hope and strength out of him . I turned to momma looking for comfort but she just stood there looking in the other direction. Not a tear to fall from her face. Not a trail of dejection in her eyes.

Master Dean yanked me off the ground by the collar of my dress and dragged me back in the house. The only thing I could think about was how my time with my papa had ended before it could even start. My momma was a white woman who every one now knew was raped by a house slave. That's where I come in. I am the result of a slave looking for revenge after his sister was brutally raped by the masters son 6 times. But I don't believe it. How could this be true if every time they were around each other all they did was smile? Having full conversations with their eyes alone while he worked. She would always find a reason to be in the room where he was assigned a job. I don't believe I am the product of rape. In my eyes I am the product of true love overlooked by the white man. A product of the fact that no matter how light, a black man is a black man, a nigger is a nigger, and niggers ain't good enough to be in love with a white woman.

"Go in there and get my boy ready for dinner and don't ever bring this up again you hear me girl" master dean demanded through clenched teeth with his finger in my face as he pushed me against the wall. I kept my head down saying nothing.

"Nicki you hear me girl. Hey!! girl answer me. Nicki." his voice transformed into that of a woman.

" Nicki wake up! You gone be late for school hun." I awoke and sat up starring at my mom as she leaned against the door, cigarette flopping up in down in her mouth as she yelled my name.

"Ma these dreams getting to me for real for real." I said rubbing my eyes and getting out of bed.

"Nicki, baby I don't know what to tell you. You don't want to talk to a therapist and you wont talk to me so you just have to push through. They gone go away soon. I'm sure they're just from something you watched or read. Them slave books starting to get to you." my mom was sure that nothing was truly wrong but I knew other wise, which is why I wouldn't talk to her. I would never go to a professional because they're paid to tell you something is wrong with you. But one thing I was sure of is today would be the end of me ignoring them. I was now set on a mission to find out what was causing these dreams, which weirdly enough felt more like flashbacks.

Today marked the end of one more mystery in my life because, with my family, in order to know more about my life than my name and birthday, I had to dig through history myself. My mom is a nervous wreck who couldn't answer a question without breaking down and my grandfather is an "Anti-Negro" asshole who figures he's got nothing to lose since his foot is winding to kick the bucket one of these days. My father died and I don't know if he has any family but my grandfather always rejected my efforts to acquire information about him because he is " the devil covered in dirt" as he would call him.

So today is the end of relying on them I had to do my own work if I really wanted to know any thing. And that's what I intended on doing, my own work. Its July and its blazing hot outside. What better way to spend my day then at the library.

I took a shower and went through my morning routine. I decided to skip cereal and milk and head straight out. Stopping at the café down the block would give me a chance to gather my thoughts and fully decide what I was truly looking for.