Beautiful Otherness

by Shirley Simmons

  Even though she most closely resembled a white woman, she saw herself as black. Her fair skin, sandy brown hair and hazel eyes were an ally. By the time Kim was a teenager she had learned the benefits of her complexion as well as its downfalls. It allowed her in doors blacks could not walk through; it allowed her to attend schools that blacks couldn’t. In the minds of her white classmates, she was one of them, so she was able to see and hear all the darkest secrets people harbored. But that all changed with her marriage, a marriage to a black man, Edward; and as far as most white people in the South were concerned, she was officially black from that point forward, and it didn’t matter how fair her skin was.

  But Kim had been feeling increasingly depressed, something that seemingly did not exist in 1970s. No one really gave depression any thought, especially if you were black. There was no doctor to turn to for help; at best you were simply called crazy.

  Kim continued driving to Florida; she felt this was her only way out. She wanted more than the life of a wife and mother. She missed the comforts of her camouflage; she missed the freedom that came with being white. She wanted a break from it all. But she had nowhere else to go but to her mother’s house. She didn’t want to have to listen to what her mother had to say about her leaving Edward, but as she pulled up to her mother’s house, Kim knew she would have to deal with it. She was willing to sacrifice to have her time away from Edward and the other kids.

  Kim’s mother was not that surprised to see her when she opened the door. She was aware of Kim’s struggles with her identity and she knew that Kim was only truly happy when she was able to be black on her terms and white when it was convenient. For years she observed how Kim was able to navigate her identity between the two races. She feared how the decision of choosing one would ultimately affect her daughter. Had the day finally come?

  “I have been waiting for this day for a long time, Kim. What do you need me to do?” They hugged as Kim, baby in tow, walked in the door with two suitcases and her son tugging at her leg.

  “Just a place to stay, Mom.”

  “Well, what did Edward say about you leaving? Wait! Don’t tell me you didn’t let him know?” With both hands on her head. “Oh, my lord! That man must be a wreck. You didn’t tell him you were leaving, and you have his kids?”

  “I’m sure he’s on his way here as we speak. I just need some time to sort things out. I feel like I’m going crazy. I have no life now, Mom. All I do is take care of Edward and these kids, and I have stopped bonding with the baby. Something is definitely wrong with me, Mom.”

  “Well, you have to work this out with Edward, but you are more than welcome to stay as long as you need.”

  That was all Kim needed to hear. If her mother did not mind her staying, she was going to use the time to reflect on life and what she wanted out of it. Edward was not going to be happy, but he was not her concern at that point. All she wanted was some of her mom’s home cooking and for her mom to take the kids so that she could rest after the long drive.

  *

  Edward had come home after a long day of work. He saw a note by the phone and picked it up as he walked through the house looking for signs of Kim or the kids. When he didn't see anyone, he walked back toward the kitchen to read the note.

  “Baby, it’s Momma! Call me, please. Kim came by earlier and dropped off the kids asking if your daddy and I could watch them for a bit. She did not say when she was coming back, but she did take John and Rebecca with her. Let me know if you need me to feed them or if you’re going to pick them up before dinner.”

  Edward walked back toward the phone. That's when he noticed an envelope with his name written in Kim’s handwriting. To him, the room was eerily silent, and his hands shook as he picked it up.

  “Edward, I’m leaving for a while to get my head together. I do not like who I have become. I do not think you like it either. It is all too much--life, marriage, kids. I feel like I have no purpose. I am going to my mother’s house for a while. I have John and Rebecca with me and left the others with your parents. I know you and they will take good care of them. Please just give me this time. I will let you know when and if I am coming back.

  —Kim

  Kim’s actions did not sit well with her husband; the initial shock rapidly turned to anger the more Kim’s leaving crossed his mind. Edward must have read the goodbye letter twenty times, each time desperately searching for some hidden explanation for her departure.

  “I can’t believe her!” he grumbled loudly as he read the letter again. As angry as he was, he remembered his mother’s note. He grabbed his keys and jumped back in the car to pick up his kids. He returned home and got the kids settled for bed since his mom had already given the children dinner. He sat down and tried to eat from the plate his mom had fixed for him.

  A couple of days had passed with not even a call from Kim to ask about the kids. Edward had been trying to be respectful by not calling her, but enough was enough. And with three kids constantly asking, “Where is Mom?” his anger rattled him so much that he was compelled to go and retrieve her.

  “How could she leave? Why would she leave?” Edward shouted to no one as he approached the Alabama-Florida state line. The drive to Florida was a long boring commute, and the anger did not make the drive any easier. He was even more pissed because he had to take a couple of days off work and leave the kids with his parents again. When he arrived at Kim’s mother’s home, Edward knew the conversation would be tense and contentious, but he had prepared himself the entire 600-mile drive to Florida.

  When Kim heard a car door slam outside the window, her gut told her it was Edward. She steadied her breath and held onto the doorknob for a minute before opening the door. He stormed in walking right past her and paced the floor not saying anything. His anger and frustration were evident in his breathing and stride. Kim was not surprised by this. In fact, she’d been expecting it. Any husband would react the same way.

  Was she wrong in her approach to how she left? Without a word except for a note on the phone table? Like the footnote in a book, somewhat relevant, but not really necessary to the story. A sidebar in life’s unraveling mystery. Maybe she should have waited until he got home from work to tell him in person, but she knew he wouldn’t understand. She knew that would have only led to a huge argument, and she would not have been able to deal with that. And she knew she didn’t even understand why she was feeling the way she did, so how could she possibly have articulated it to Edward?

  Kim began to cry before she took a seat at the table. Edward’s arrival brought her back to the emotional place she was trying to escape. She could see the anger he carried on his face; she even noticed his trembling hands as he cautiously approached. The idea of running out of the house crossed her mind several times, but she knew it was time to let Edward know her true feelings.

  “Hello, Kim.”

  “Hi, Edward.” Her voice was trembling with the inner fear of not knowing what was happening to her.

  “May I have a seat so that we can talk?”

  “Sure.”

  Before taking a seat, he retrieved a box of tissues from the living room placing them on the kitchen table between them.

  “What are you doing, Kim? Why are you in Florida? Go get your things. We are going home!”

  Edward did not yell but Kim could tell he was angry. Edward was not a violent man, but her mind raced trying to collect her thoughts. The idea of him yanking her up from the table, dragging her to the car, with her kicking, screaming and fighting, played in her head.

  “I cannot do that, Edward.”

  “Kim, your family needs you. Now get your ass up.”

  “I cannot do that Edward, and please don’t start cussing.”

  “I’m sorry, Kim, but what are you doing?”

  “I need help, Edward. I mean, I need to fix myself.”

  Sensing that anger and force were not going to help the situation, he tried a different approach. He spoke calmly. “We will get you t
he help you need back in Mississippi.”

  “Edward, I can’t go back to Mississippi, not right now.”

  “Why, baby?”

  “I’m constantly sad or overwhelmed. I spend most of my days crying when you are at work, and when I am not crying, I’m yelling at the kids. The smallest things set me off and make me angry. It could be as simple as them asking, ‘What’s for dinner?’ I know they can sense something is wrong with their mommy.” She wrung her hands as she spoke. Her nerves were frazzled, and she was constantly on edge.

  “I just feel inadequate. When I hold our baby, I start to feel like anyone but me could take care of her. I’m telling you! Something’s not right, Edward,” she wailed, “and I do not have to tell you how things are going with you and me. You’re constantly telling me to pull it together!”

  Edward began to see that his wife was in a dark place and it frightened him. He tried not to think of all the horrible possibilities that could take place if Kim continued the way she was.

  “For the sake of everyone, you, me, and the children, you have to let me fix myself even if it hurts. Give me six months, please!”

  Edward was, by this time, exhausted and defeated. They’d been at it for almost an hour and he finally surrendered without any further confrontation. It had been a long, challenging conversation and nothing he said convinced her to have a change of heart. Kim was beholden to her decision to abandon her family–temporarily at least. In her mind she was not forsaking them but doing what she needed to do to get herself back to feeling like a mother and wife, regardless of how it appeared to anyone else. At the end of the conversation, he persuaded her to let him return to Mississippi with the other two children so that she could focus on getting the help that she was in search of. She agreed. But secretly, Edward was concerned for those two children. Was Kim in such a bad place that she might harm them? Was her mother up to the task of looking after them and being around every minute just in case Kim did something unspeakable?

  Her mother, who had been eavesdropping from the back room, began gathering the kids’ clothes and getting them ready to leave with their father. Kim walked to the back, smirked at her mom for eavesdropping, and then quickly hugged her for getting the kids ready. Kim had the kids give their grandmother a hug before bringing them out to Edward.

  He held onto his kids with his head held low. With a kiss on the cheek and a whispered, “Goodbye,” Kim’s quest to heal herself began.

  PHILLIP

  Phillip rushed across town to collect his final payments for the day. What little traffic there was seemed to be on every route he was taking. Time was not on his side. The last thing he wanted was to have his father question his ability to do the job. Running and collecting numbers had become a pivotal part of the family business and Phillip had received the job by default. Even if it was a form of illegal lottery, there were a lot of people who depended on their winnings.

  The person at the lowest level on the totem pole usually collected the numbers, and Philip was at the bottom. He was not his father’s first or last choice for collecting numbers and money; his brothers—who would have been chosen over him--had taken different paths. One was enlisting in the military and the other had become a minister. So that left Phillip and his sister, and “the old man” surely wasn’t going to have his daughter involved in that part of his affairs.

  Phillip was the hot head of the four children. He was that child who kept you in prayer, and as much as you pulled for him you just knew he would find a way to screw it up. At some point his anger was going to get the best of his better judgment and he would find himself in trouble. So far, he had been fortunate; all of his run-ins with the law had not caught up with him yet. But the old man could see that something had changed in Phillip.

  Phillip’s drafting into the army in 1969 did not come as a surprise. If you were an able-bodied male of age it was simply a matter of time before you would receive a draft letter. His pops tried to prepare Phillip for what awaited him, but a black infantry squad being sent to the front line was a difficult conversation to have with a farm boy.

  *

  Phillip dug his trench a foot deeper than he was ordered; he figured a foot deeper could not hurt. Deeper was better, right? He would be lower when the bullets sailed over.

  He was at the base of Hill 937, located at the Jungle Hill Mountain in South Vietnam. His platoon nervously awaited their orders to advance up the hill. They could feel the ground shifting from the heavy artillery being used on the enemy. The mountains’ foliage had been stripped away--defoliated by chemical means. Agent Orange it was called. It was a strategy used to expose the enemy and their bunkers, and it gave Phillip a clear view of the destruction that he faced.

  The men slept in the trenches, and the second day passed with him looking from his trench; he could hear the screams of the dying crying for help. Those who could be rescued were carried past his trench; their mangled bodies horrified him. Phillip’s experiences as a tough guy had prepared him to kill everything in sight; his fear turned to rage. That rage had replaced all other emotions that Phillip had on that hill. He no longer thought of his parents, his brothers and sister or the small town. Kill or be killed was all he focused on.

  Daybreak on the third day, it all ended. United States forces had taken control of the hill and Phillip never got the opportunity to kill. But the military and Vietnam had changed him. He was a far different person from the skinny, somewhat timid kid who left for the army. During his enlistment he had grown two inches. His shoulders had become broad and strong, and his jaw and chin chiseled. He was a warrior. And his new appearance was now just as intimidating as his often erratic, unstable personality.

  When Phillip returned home from his stint in the military, “the old man” did his best to control Phillip by having him work the family-owned bar. He was still sent to collect the numbers and payment, and on those days, Phillip was free of his father’s supervision. But it was not long before the complaints began. Phillip had begun stealing hundreds of dollars a week. His crime was not elaborate at all; he simply didn’t pay if someone won. If someone complained, he threatened them or assaulted them. Because of his unpredictable behavior upon coming home from the army, which was now evident to anyone who knew him, there was often chatter in town that it was only a matter of time before the dark side of Phillip would arise, so many had stopped doing business with him and his father.

  This put his father on damage control. Phillip’s actions were costing him money and credibility; he could not afford to have those actions affecting his other businesses: the bar and the farm. Both had been worked by his family for three generations. He’d sat on the same barstool every day after school since he was old enough to climb up on it. It had been his old man’s pride and joy. The farm was hard work, but it brought in money, and with two sons gone off now, it would be hard enough to keep it going without the extra hands. The bar was easy enough to run, but word of mouth got around quickly in this town. Joe, Phillip’s pop, was well-loved in the neighborhood, but even that wouldn’t save the bar if Phillip continued to drive away customers by cheating them. If he didn’t stop it now, it wouldn’t be long before it would go under. Outside of his children, the farm and the bar were what gave him the most pleasure in life. It was to those places that he devoted most of his love and attention.

  Phillip’s father enjoyed knowing that the black community looked up to him and the white folks respected him. The number-running business was simply a way of making easy money. It did not take much of his time, and it compensated for the off seasons when the farm didn’t produce. He’d always run an honest business, paying when he needed to. He’d never cheated anyone. But now things had changed and Phillip was the cause.

  “Come in, Phillip, and have a seat.”

  “What’s up, Pop?”

  He had taken a seat in the same chair he’d sat in too many times before to count. This had become an all too familiar occurrence for Phillip. Screw up, face
the consequences from his father.

  “I’m getting complaints, Phillip.”

  “Yeah, people are always complaining when they don’t win.”

  “Don’t interrupt me again, boy. People are complaining that you are not paying them their winnings, and on top of that you are threatening them. Now I am very much aware of you, let us just say, coming up short. And I cannot have that! It is not good business. How much have you taken? And don’t you lie because I know the answer.”

  “If you know the answer, why are you asking?”

  “Phillip, you don’t get to ask the questions, and right now I’m not amused.”

  ‘Twelve hundred, Pop.”

  “You do know if this were anywhere else this conversation would go way different, or God forbid you had done this to the wrong man. Phillip, certain people will kill you for what you’ve done.”

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  “Phillip, the people in town, I mean the poor in this town, depend on every dime that they have. So, it means everything to me if someone takes their last bit of money and gambles it with me. It means they trust and respect me. The bar and farm run on honesty, and just because this number running is illegal, it does not mean I run it without integrity. It is my name, Phillip. It’s our name that’s at stake.”

  Pop reached into his overalls and pulled out a manila envelope. In it were Phillip’s instructions. “Take this and pay everyone that’s been hit. Once you’re done, return to the bar. You’re off number pickup, Phillip.”

  “Come on, Pop, don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

  The old man stood from behind his desk. “Boy, you can close the door on your way out. And the twelve hundred you essentially stole from me will be taken out of your paycheck. Don’t think for one minute that you’ve gotten away with that part of your scam.”