by Beth Flynn
He shook his head in disagreement. “Not true. That first month at the cabin we did nothing but talk. I told you everything, Lucy. I may not have said, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m black,’ but I can guaran-damn-tee you if I didn’t think you knew it, I would’ve. Shit, even Ike asked me at the movie theater if you knew everything and I told him you did.”
Isaac cooed and Lucy smiled down at her sleeping baby before saying, “First, we’ve moved past you being black and me not realizing it. That’s not the issue for me. Second, we sure did talk a lot. Not just that first month at the cabin but in all the years since. I know your favorite color, your favorite food. I know the detail and meaning behind every single tattoo on your body. Thanks to you, I know how to reel in a dolphin, skin an alligator, and remove a bullet.” She paused to glare at him. Just because she was grateful he’d never come home with another bullet wound didn’t mean she was still happy about having had to remove one from his back. “I even know you have certain peculiarities.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Like you’re the only person I know who doesn’t like dressing on their salad. You eat it dry. You can’t stand to walk on a wet tile floor or dampen the bathroom rugs, so you dry off in the shower. You’ll drink a cold beer but like it warm. You won’t swat at flies or other insects because you like the challenge of catching them with your bare hands. You don’t like to heat up leftovers because you prefer them cold. Even though you’d rather die before admitting it, I know you’d choose Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole over Metallica. I know all of these things and a million more, but I didn’t know anything about your family history because you didn’t talk about things that mattered to you.”
He started to object, but she held up a hand. “I even knew about the antics you pulled on your father and stepmother. But you never took me below the surface of those stories. If you had, I might’ve picked up on it before today. I believe you when you said you thought I knew. I guess I’m just trying to give you an example of how you’ve never truly let me in on some of the more meaningful parts of your life.”
Jonas nodded slowly as if finally understanding. “I see what you mean. But let me throw an example at you that would explain why I thought you knew.”
While looking down at Isaac, she waved him off. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself. I missed some signs, but it was only because you weren’t giving me all of them.”
“At least let me defend myself, wife.” When she nodded, he continued, “You suggested I talk to your professor about his cornrows. Why would you have me talk to a black guy about having my hair done like his if you didn’t think I was black?”
“Because I honestly thought and still think it would be a good look on you!” she whisper-yelled.
“And what about Anthony Bear?” he asked.
She gently rocked Isaac in her arms. “What about him?”
“You know Anthony is a full-blooded Native American. He has darker skin than a lot of black people I know. Do you honestly believe I’d take orders from someone I didn’t respect?” He could tell by her expression she hadn’t considered it, so he continued. “Okay, let’s get back to one of the first things you accused me of. You couldn’t possibly believe all these years that I was a racist because you thought I hated my grandfather’s supposed black friend, Cleo. What else gave you that idea?”
“There were a few other things,” she reluctantly admitted.
Jonas noticed she appeared to pull Isaac closer, as if protecting him. “Let’s hear ‘em,” he prodded.
“All those years ago, when I saw you talking to Dr. Butler at the university dinner, I noticed you walked away from him with a scowl on your face.”
“It was because I asked him about his cornrows. Like you suggested,” he pointed out. “When he told me it took five hours to have them done, I was pissed because I couldn’t imagine sitting still for five hours to have my hair braided. And you basing your assumption on a scowl is absurd. I scowl at a lot of people regardless of their skin color.” He stood back and crossed his arms. “You said there were a few things.” He motioned with his hand. “Next.”
“Okay. When I told you about Hobie’s friend, Dicey, and all the trouble she encountered trying to adopt a white child, I specifically remember you frowning.”
“A frown?” Jonas couldn’t hide his irritation. “Maybe I frowned. Maybe I didn’t. If I did, it was because I could identify with her predicament. Do you know how many people approached my father and Marty when we were out as a family? Wondering what a couple of black folks were doing with a white kid?”
“No, I didn’t know, Jonas, because you never shared that part of your childhood.” Lucy looked thoughtful for a moment. “When I told you our neighbors were from Pakistan you said, ‘There goes the neighborhood.’”
“That I remember,” he admitted. “I was being sarcastic because I heard it every time me and Marty moved after my father died. Marty received an income from the Bait & Tackle, but it wasn’t enough to cover the mortgage payments, so she sold the house. My father didn’t have life insurance, so Marty had to work. She was a teacher, and we bounced around a few towns until she found a decent job back in Naples. It was the sixties, Lucy. If you think times are bad now, try being a woman of color trying to raise a supposedly white son back then. I’m sure Hobie’s friend had it ten times worse.”
Lucy gave him a pleading look. “Don’t you see, Jonas? Marty’s skin color is exactly why I thought you disliked her. The day I found out Marty was your stepmother, it all seemed to make sense. Especially after you told me you didn’t hold her responsible for the car accident. I immediately assumed you resented Marty because your father, who I assumed was white based on your skin color, married a black woman.”
He shook his head. “No, not at all, Lucy.”
“Then why?” she asked with a sigh. “Why this extreme dislike for her?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and Lucy carefully handed him Isaac. The infant appeared to disappear in his father’s huge hands. Jonas kissed his son’s forehead before answering. “I don’t dislike Marty. It was stubbornness on my part. I deliberately pushed her away. I’d like to believe it was for her own good, but in truth, it was my own insecurity.” A moment passed. “And guilt. You know I did time for killing the man who attacked her. When I got out of juvie I was eighteen, and Marty was there, ready and chomping at the bit to pick up where we’d left off. As a family. Small, but a family, nonetheless. I convinced myself she was only there out of a sense of duty. I didn’t want her pity.” He wouldn’t meet Lucy’s eyes. “You know my father died when I was ten. And up until the stalking incident, I was a rotten little shit. To this day, I don’t know how she put up with me. But she did. And she never gave up on me. I’ve no doubt she really thought you were serving a warrant the day she scared you away. She did it to protect me.” He wouldn’t meet Lucy’s eyes when he admitted, “Marty is better off without me in her life. I was relieved when she finally remarried and moved away. She’s always deserved better.”
“You said that you deliberately pushed Marty away due to your own insecurity and guilt. Was the guilt for being a bad kid?”
“Partially, but not entirely,” he quietly answered. “It was guilt for putting her in awkward positions because of my white skin.”
Lucy tilted her head. “I have a feeling Marty would disagree. And I want to get in touch with her, Jonas. Please don’t fight me on this. You’ve told me more in the past twenty minutes than you have since the day we met.”
He slowly nodded. “Okay. We can call her, but I can’t make any promises as to how she’ll react. I’ve pushed her away for years.”
Lucy crossed her arms. “One more thing. Tell me about the two black men you dragged behind Sharks.”
“What about them?” He raised a surprised brow. “And how do you know about that?”
“That’s not important.” Adjusting her glasses, she asked, “What did you do to them?”
&nb
sp; “I didn’t do anything to them. I came out of Sharks and heard some rednecks giving them a hard time. I pretended like I was in agreement with the idiots and dragged the two guys to the back of Sharks knowing the rednecks would follow.”
Lucy shifted her eyes sideways while considering his response. Still baffled, she prompted, “Why?”
“Because when I beat the ever-loving shit out of those dumb hicks, I needed two witnesses who would tell the authorities it was four against one and that the rednecks threw the first punch.”
Chapter 74
Lucy stood on the upper staircase and looked down over the day care center. Her heart was filled with pride when she watched her soon-to-be one-year-old son walking on very wobbly legs. When he fell, he would crawl to the next cushioned bumper, pull himself up, and start over. He was tenacious to a fault. And strong, just like his father.
“Your son is a beautiful child, Dr. Brooks. And obviously advanced. You must be so proud.”
Lucy looked over at the woman who’d just sidled up to her. Margaret Robbins was a relatively new employee and under Lucy’s direct supervision until the woman’s boss returned from an extended sick leave. “Thank you, Margaret. I think so too.”
“I’ve heard you’ll be giving me my three-month performance review while Dr. Long is on medical leave. I’m glad we’ve had the chance to work together for the past eight weeks. It’s been an honor working under my supervisor’s superior.”
“It’s kind of you to say,” Lucy remarked before looking at her watch. “I have to be in the labs for a couple of hours and then a staff meeting. I’ll see you in my office at four.”
“Thank you, Dr. Brooks.” Margaret offered up a sweet smile.
Lucy walked away wishing she could return the woman’s enthusiasm. Unfortunately, Lucy’s review of Margaret’s performance was less than stellar. She didn’t look forward to delivering the news and could only hope the woman would understand Lucy’s recommendation was for the best.
Margaret was shown into Lucy’s office at four o’clock on the dot. Lucy gestured to a chair. “Have a seat, please.”
Margaret sat down with an air of confidence that Lucy might’ve respected a few hours earlier. She handed the woman a folder and sat back while Margaret silently perused the evaluation. She looked up at Lucy and swallowed. “I didn’t realize you knew about those errors.”
“I do thorough homework on all the people under my supervision,” Lucy informed her. “Tell me, Margaret, why are you in this department specifically? Why such an interest in diseases of the skin?”
Margaret broke into a dissertation about her original interest in dermatology and possibly even cosmetic surgery when she realized she could further her career by getting to the root of skin issues. Disease control. She tried to make it sound like a labor of love, but Lucy saw through it. There was no discussion of the passion to help others with debilitating diseases. It was all about furthering her career. It was also reasonable to assume Margaret’s outward beauty might’ve also fueled the motivation behind her original interest in dermatology and cosmetic surgery. Apparently, in Margaret’s mind, those careers didn’t seem as profitable as working for a distinguished and respected health organization.
Lucy listened patiently as Margaret meticulously and flawlessly continued her oral essay.
“I hope I’ve convinced you to look beyond the errors you’ve found in my work, Dr. Brooks.” She placed the folder on the edge of Lucy’s desk with a misplaced air of superiority.
“Do you know where the majority of skin diseases are born?” Lucy asked her.
“Of course. Most diseases affecting the skin originate in the layers of the skin. Below the surface. A lot of them are hereditary.”
“And can we agree that we may never cure all of them in our lifetime?”
Margaret straightened her posture. “Certainly.”
“And do you know from a social perspective one of the hardest ones to cure?”
There was a slight tilt to Margaret’s head when she answered, “Social perspective? I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Dr. Brooks.”
Lucy sat up and leaned on her desk. “Racism isn’t a disease we study here, but it’s real and can hide behind the prettiest of masks.”
Margaret robotically raised a hand to her flawless cheek. “What does that have to do with my evaluation?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Lucy confirmed. “I’m just glad I gave you a fair one before I heard what you said.”
There was no mistaking the nervous gleam in Margaret’s eyes. She cleared her throat and offered, “I don’t understand.”
“I guess nobody ever taught you to look under the bathroom stalls before you start raging to a co-worker about all the dark-skinned babies in the nursery.” Without giving Margaret an opportunity to respond, Lucy continued, “I was already in the bathroom on the sixth floor when you stopped in to wash your hands. I heard it all.”
Like a deer caught in the headlights, Margaret stared, horrified. “I wasn’t referring to your baby, Dr. Brooks.”
“There are only three children of color in the nursery and you’d have me believe you weren’t including my son in your rant?” Lucy tsked. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Margaret.”
“You can’t fire me for making a comment,” Margaret replied smugly.
“Oh, I’m not going to fire you, and it wasn’t a comment. It was a full-blown hate-filled tirade. I’m just glad I turned in my recommendation before I heard your outburst, so there is no partiality on my part.”
“And your recommendation?” Margaret asked with a smidgen of arrogance.
“It was that you get further instruction in your specified field of study. If you decide to stay with the company, you’re being transferred to Nevada, where hopefully you’ll devote more thorough care to your work.”
“You’re transferring me to Nevada?” Margaret couldn’t hide her anger. “That facility is in the middle of nowhere!”
Lucy leaned back in her chair. “Yes. You’ll be under the direct tutelage of Dr. Chantel Devereaux, the best in her field, for the next twelve months. Longer if she deems it necessary. And since she’s currently set up at an outpost in Nevada, that’s where you’ll receive additional instruction. That is, if you wish to stay on here. You should be grateful I’m giving you a chance to improve, considering I have legitimate grounds for your dismissal.” As an afterthought, Lucy added, “I’m also making your transfer effective today. You’ll have two weeks to plan your move. From home.”
Margaret glared at Lucy. “I can still work and plan a move.”
Lucy shook her head. “I disagree. I don’t want you infecting this building with your disguised hatred one moment longer than necessary. Goodbye, Margaret.”
Four hours later, Lucy lay across Jonas’ lap while he massaged her neck. “I can’t even tell you how good that feels, husband. Is it okay to admit that I’m a little relieved Isaac went to sleep so easily tonight?”
“Sure, baby,” he said with a chuckle. “Sounds like you had your hands full today.”“I handled her fairly,” Lucy reminded him. “I’m just glad I made the recommendation prior to what I heard. At least I can never be accused of being biased concerning her hateful diatribe.” A mischievous gleam appeared in Lucy’s eyes, followed by a wry smile. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to a little righteous satisfaction in knowing I innocently consigned her to the worst facility in the United States.”
“Wife, you can’t singlehandedly rid the world of everyone you suspect of being a racist.”
Lucy sat up, offended. “First, I’d recommended the transfer prior to hearing her rant. Second, she is one and I’m glad I had the opportunity to call her out on it.”
“Still, you might’ve come off as unprofessional.” At Lucy’s hardened stare, he held up a hand and said, “I’m just playing the devil’s advocate here. I’m only saying it in reference to your career.”
“My career took a backseat the moment I got pregn
ant. My child will always come first. So, if I get called out for letting my feelings be known against someone who thinks it’s okay to verbally abuse children because of the color of their skin, so be it. She should count herself lucky I didn’t charge out of that stall and punch her in the face.” Lucy appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Besides, the view is always better from the high road.” She exhaled a hard breath through her nose. “And tell me, how is what I did any different than what you actually did to the four men you beat within an inch of their lives the night Isaac was born?”
Jonas scratched at his jaw and laughed. “Touché.”
“It’s an uphill battle, Jonas.” Lucy sat back, defeated. “And it’s one I don’t think will be conquered anytime soon.”
“I agree,” he answered. “With all the successes you’re having in the lab, you have to know this is one disease you can’t cure. Because it isn’t a disease of the skin, it’s a disease of the heart.”
“I know. Which only makes it sadder.”
He pulled his wife closer and kissed her temple. “But it’s a battle I wouldn’t want to have with anyone but you at my side.”
Jonas and Lucy would soon discover that having a child would become synonymous with pressing on the accelerator of life. Time flew by at an exhausting speed and before they knew it, their one-year-old was a thriving kindergartener. He was, as expected, an energetic and lively child, and the subject of a continued debate between his parents.
It was after a particularly harrowing day at the office that Lucy came home to a very disgruntled and irritated Jonas. It wasn’t until later that night she discovered the root of his irritability. He’d just come out of the bathroom and had one towel wrapped around his waist and was using another to dry his hair.
“It’s too much, wife. You’re not letting our son be a kid,” he accused. “We’ve been over this again and again. And I’m done asking. I’m telling you to pull back with all of his activities. It’s too much on us and even more so on him.”