You'll Never Believe What Happened to Lacey

by Amber Ruffin

  Oh my god, this is not what this book is.

  I know, but once I get going.

  Once she gets going it’s hard to stop her. Stop.

  You are right. I will stop. Just know, that’s not the end of my cop stories.

  You guys aren’t gonna hear most of my cop stories. There’s just not enough room! Amber, you’ve ruined the vibe. Here, guys. A non–race related palate cleanser:

  Here’s why I’m afraid of butterflies: When I was little I had a very fluffy pink sweater. It had a cursive letter L on it like Laverne’s from Laverne & Shirley. I loved that sweater and wore it as often as I could. One day when I was about seven years old, I was at the neighbor’s house and a butterfly landed on my fluffy sweater. It was cute. My friends gathered around me and looked at it. Fun. We went back to playing, but the butterfly wouldn’t fly away. I shook my sweater—nothing. I put my hand underneath my sweater and tried to shake it loose—nothing. So I had to resort to gently wiping it away. He was so tangled in the fluffiness of the sweater that when I did, the wings popped off and just the body remained. A butterfly with wings is vastly different from one without. I looked down and saw a gross, long, half-smashed, tangled-up bug body and screamed. I took off my shirt and ran home topless.

  No! This is the non–race related palate cleanser you shoulda told. It would be called: Lacey’s white stalker and how she couldn’t bring herself to be afraid of him.

  Ha ha ha. Yes.

  Here’s a story that has nothing to do with race, although this man was white. In a high-end boutique Lacey was working at, a white man walked in on a very hot July day wearing a trench coat. What made Lacey remember what he was wearing is that Mom had the exact same trench coat. It was lavender and iridescent. Beautiful. Maybe in my top ten coats of all time. I hope Mom still has it. If she does, we will take a picture in it and put it right here. If she doesn’t, close your eyes and imagine heaven in a coat. It was spectacular. So this man walks in in my mom’s coat and he looks like a beautiful princess. He has long blond hair and is, like, six-five. He’s super tall. So at first glance, it seems like they’re gonna get along great. But then, Lacey could tell he seemed very nervous. He was acting strangely. Lacey assumed it was because he was planning on stealing something. So she walked up to him and started a conversation in hopes that would deter him from stealing. It did. He told Lacey his life story. It took thirty minutes. This man has traveled the world as a natural healer. He’s had many adventures. Lacey nods and listens. This man is yapping his boring little butt off, but it is better than him stealing. That’s when things took a turn. He began telling Lacey he loved her Black skin, asking if she’s single. Uh-oh. He loved how her skin looked and wanted to caress it. Too far. Lacey told him to leave or she was gonna have to call security. The second she said “security,” he said bye and left. Why? Why must creepiness come from everywhere? The last thing Lacey expected from this man was him hitting on her, but okay, whatever. He’s gone now. As soon as he leaves, Lacey notices two white women waving hysterically from the store across the way. She had seen them before during opening and closing time. They also work in the shopping center. They ran over and said, “That guy you were talking to just stole from our stores! He just stole a bunch of high heels and put them in his trench coat.” Lacey is shocked. “The guy you just watched me talk to for thirty minutes? Why didn’t you call security?” These women replied, “We thought he was your friend. And we didn’t want you to get mad at us.” They thought the thief was Lacey’s friend. Of course they did. Later, Lacey found out they thought she was in on it. Lacey calmly tells them, “When someone steals, you always call security. You don’t wait to see who they steal from next. You just call security. Always call security.” Lacey thinks that this is just a one-off odd event and chalks it up to the fact that “people crazy.”

  Trench Coat Man comes back in about a week or so. Lacey’s not working but the biggest idiot in the world is. Let’s call him TBIITW. Trench Coat asks the biggest idiot in the world, TBIITW, for Lacey’s name. He gives it to him. Trench Coat asks when Lacey will be working next; TBIITW tells him. Trench Coat asks for her address and phone number; TBIITW says, “Whoa. Wait a second. Are you gonna stalk Lacey?” Just kidding. He’s the biggest idiot in the world! Of course, he gives him the info, no questions asked!

  And so it begins. After that Lacey received phone calls and love letters. He would even try to come into the store and talk to Lacey, even though every time she would immediately tell him to leave and call security. The whole while in Mom’s beautiful trench coat. This went on for quite some time. After Lacey had gotten a new job, the boss said Trench Coat had dropped off a letter for Lacey. Here’s the letter:

  Lacey takes the letter to the cops. The police try to let her know she should be scared. Maybe they had a point, but I know Lacey. That man should be scared. They started a file on the guy, but Lacey never knew his real name, so she could never file a restraining order. This man sends Lacey more love letters because their “souls are connected.” He tries to get in touch with her for the next year. Lacey then realizes that this man is the best she can do so she gives in to love.

  Amber.

  I lied. She makes sure to tell everyone about him in case they see him. She doesn’t feel scared of this guy at all, but he sure is bothering her a whole bunch. So, one day, Lacey is working out at a really nice gym she was a member of. You can’t come in there unless you are a member. You need a key fob that brings up a picture of you, they check it against your actual face, and then they buzz you in. Even Lacey has to do that every time, and she’s friends with the manager. If you’re not a member, how could you possibly get in? She is on the treadmill and looks to her left and there’s Trench Coat. She immediately gets off the treadmill and walks right up to the manager and says, “This man has been stalking me for years. Can I have his name so I can file a restraining order?” The manager says, “I’ll give you whatever you want.” This is it! She’s finally gonna get that restraining order! There’s no way this guy got in there without some ID. The manager says to the receptionist, “Pull all his info.” The receptionist says, “What’s wrong?” The manager says, “We need this guy’s info.” The receptionist says, “He didn’t show any ID. He was wearing a suit and had a gym bag. I assumed he was a member!” This stalker just used his whiteness to saunter in. Must be nice. Trench Coat notices three people standing around and talking about him. He makes a run for it. The manager stops him and says, “Are you a member? Give me your name.”

  Trench Coat simply walks out and says, “No.” The end. Lacey never sees him again. If you’re keeping score, it’s:

  Lacey—none

  Whiteness—a million

  Someone once asked me, “Why didn’t you follow him out to his car?” I mean, I’m not scared but I’m also not stupid.

  Oh my god! I said it wasn’t but this did end up being a story about race!

  That’s right! Because he never could have walked into the gym with no ID or anything without being white. He never could have gotten all my information from my coworker without being white. Boy. Just when you think you’ve escaped it.

  You can’t escape it. Back to fun1 stories!

  Footnotes

  1 This cannot be how you’re supposed to use the word fun.

  I Want to Put This Book Down

  and Run Away from It

  Don’t do what the chapter title says to do. You made it this far and I’m truly proud of you. I’ve assembled these stories together in this chapter because each of these stories is perfect. Like, if these each were little short stories you wrote, you’d get an A. (Your teacher would be concerned, but you’d get an A.) They’re not the most racist stories in this book, but they are technically harder to believe because they are so beautiful. Except beautiful means ugly because we are talking about racism.

  I hope you’re enjoying yourself and laughing and learning and living and loving. Speaking of loving, in this chapter we’re gonna talk
about being in an interracial couple! (Google it—that was a good joke.) We’re also going to tell you my two favorite stories.

  Racist Doughnuts

  Lacey used to work in a small town in Nebraska. It was not the best job, it was a terrible commute, and she once again was the only Black person in the entire place. But it made her money that she used to live, so it met her requirements. It was a regular office job at an old folks’ home. She organized parties and wrote up expense reports. A pretty boring job. One day, some of her coworkers breezed through with the most important announcement you can make in an office: “Doughnuts!” And, upon hearing that, like any red-blooded American, she sprinted to the kitchen faster than Jackie Joyner-Kersee.1

  She gets to the office kitchen and there is a full box of doughnuts. They look great. She takes one. And to clarify, this is Nebraska. We don’t get office doughnuts and cut them into several pieces and pass them out like cartoon orphans. You grab a whole doughnut because you’re a grown-ass woman. She takes a bite out of this doughnut and loves it.

  Amber, I fear you’re not getting across just how delicious these doughnuts are. I take a bite of this doughnut and am immediately sent to heaven. Not like I’m dead, but, if I had died in that moment, I would have been okay with that. It was the most delicious doughnut any human being has ever eaten. Sweet and fluffy. After you finish this book, please buy my second book, The Doughnut I Ate—available in my heart.

  We get it! The doughnut was great. Anyway, there at that crappy job with those well-meaning but ultimately shitty people, she enjoyed the butt off that doughnut. How many did you have, Lacey?

  How many I ate is not what this story is about, so I need you to lay off me. Even if, throughout the day, I ate four, a totally reasonable number of doughnuts, I need you to try to focus on the story.

  Okay. She had four great doughnuts. Later that week, another miracle occurred. They hired a SECOND BLACK WOMAN! The two of them locked eyes and, in a single gaze, shared the relief of seeing each other, the “ain’t that about a bitch” of it all, and the agreement that they would have a secret meeting later. When they did, Lacey learned that she (let’s call her Tish, which could be her name for all Lacey knows because she can’t remember it to save her doughnut-loving life) was expecting these new employers to treat her like any normal employer would. She was young, smart, and expecting fair treatment. Lacey envied her and simultaneously wondered what on earth would make her think that a small town in the middle of Nebraska was where she was going to find that. Lacey knew Tish wouldn’t last long at this job. These people were going to say something perfectly racist to her. She was going to give them a piece of her mind, storm out, and never come back. Before she inevitably quit, Tish would need to taste the doughnuts.

  Lacey asked her coworkers where they got the doughnuts and they gave her directions. “It’s kind of hard to find.” The next day, she stopped by the place before she went into work. She left home way too early because not only did she have to pay her rent that morning, she is prone to getting lost. But, miracle of miracles, she didn’t get lost that morning. After paying the rent, she drove straight to the little doughnut shop.

  If Lacey’s life were a movie, and it is, and you were watching it, and you kind of are, when you saw her going into this doughnut shop you would yell, “No! Don’t! They’ll kill you!”

  This place was a frigging gross shack with a tin roof, almost falling apart. She didn’t care. She’s getting her doughnuts. On the inside was a regular doughnut shop case and small counter and register. There was a weird kitchen table with three chairs at it, each of them from a different decade. She went in with a big smile on her face, determined to be polite. And it was a good thing, too, because the women behind the counter glared at her like Lacey glared at the outside of their building. I’m not saying a person can “look” racist, but Lacey is. She said that. Can you believe her?

  I said that. It’s like, you know how women know when a man is scary? It’s like a lifetime of survival skills kick in and you get a bit of a spidey sense about some situations? Well, I’ve been in approximately a billion racist situations. So I know. From the “Black people have dumb names” kind of racists to the “only ever talk to you about music” type of racists. My spidey sense is strong. Now, I can’t tell when everyone’s racist, but when I think someone’s a racist, they are. And I’m saying these people were racist.

  This is how their transaction went:

  Lacey: Good morning!

  These 2 women (angrily): What.

  Lacey (chipper as heck): I’d like a dozen doughnuts, please.

  Meany and Meaner: They’re not ready yet. You would have to wait.

  Lacey: Not a problem!

  It’s eight in the morning; you are a doughnut shop. We all know darn well the doughnuts are ready but, hey, let’s do it. The two doughnut heauxs roll their eyes and mutter to each other. They think they’re being mean enough to Lacey to get her to leave. They are not. In fact, compared to her job, this is the frigging ACLU. She goes and stands against the wall and plays on her phone. Five minutes turn into ten turn into fifteen, and she’s chillin’ like a mug. She has a full phone battery and all the time in the world.

  I also have a purpose. Tish must taste the doughnuts. She drove all the way in from Omaha and probably doesn’t have very long at this job. I’m determined to have one good thing happen to her.

  An old man comes in. Hoo boy, does he not like that Lacey’s in there. He orders his whatever and then walks over to her. The two women behind the counter are watching as he barks at her, “That’s my seat.” Mind you, Lacey is not sitting in a seat. She is standing against the wall. But she’s standing too close to his seat for his liking. Now, this is how they try to get you. Racist people will say mean things to you to start a fight, then call the cops and then play the victim. Tale as old as time. But today is about getting doughnuts for her new friend, Tish, so she doesn’t leave this job without knowing true doughnut love, not exacting revenge. She chirps back, “Great!” but doesn’t move a single inch. Her reasons for not budging are twofold. One, this man is a ninety-year-old raggedy bitch who barely made it to the counter. And two, these women aren’t going to like that she’s making their friend uncomfortable and that will make them get her doughnuts faster. And it worked, because almost immediately:

  The doughnut coven: “Don’t you want your doughnuts?”

  Lacey, the hero of this story, handing them her credit card: “Here you go!”

  A supergross smirk creeps across their faces. “We don’t take credit cards.”

  Lacey is disappointed.

  Disappointed is not the word. Devastated is more like it. I said out loud, “Oh dear god, no.” I check my wallet and I have no cash. I cannot believe it. It can’t end like this. I am defeated. I waited all this time for absolutely nothing. How could I have let this happen? They win. The racists win. I will not be getting my doughnuts today.

  As they all but celebrate, Lacey asks, “Do you take checks?”

  The smiles drop from their faces and they reply, “Yes.” They scan my face to see whether or not their answer matters. But, you guys, I go out to my car and pull the checkbook from the glove box. I JUST SO HAPPENED TO HAVE MY CHECKBOOK ’CAUSE I HAD JUST PAID RENT! And it’s at this point that I’d like to point out how stupid racists are. Why didn’t they just say, “No. We don’t take checks”? I have no way of knowing if they take checks or not. Also, who the fuck still takes checks? What year is it?

  She cuts these pieces of shit a check, and, victorious, goes back to work.

  She finds Tish and tells her the story. Tish is disgusted that she would spend any money at such a racist place. “How could you give them your business? Why didn’t you just leave?”

  And, I have to say, she is right. I do have to say I normally would not have given them my business but there was something about seeing these racists so uncomfortable. But also, these doughnuts are fantastic, sooooo…

  �
�I’m not giving a racist store my business.” Tish leaves the office kitchen without taking a single doughnut. That bums Lacey out. She did this for her. The only thing that could console Lacey at this point would be four doughnuts. And they did.

  Later in the day, Tish comes bursting into Lacey’s office with a doughnut in hand. She had seen everyone’s joyful, doughnut-eating faces and caved. “Lacey, you were right! These are delicious! They’re the best doughnuts I’ve ever had!”