Colorblind

Ya ever feel that quiet tugging urge at the hind part of your mind, that pressing crave to be a hero and to save a life?

Perhaps it's just me and is it supposed to fade as ya get older? I dunno, but ya know what happened?

That itch of mine hit me good in the face on my fourteenth birthday and I just gotta say… I was not thrilled like I figured I’d be. I had imagined things goin' very VERY differently if ever an instance as that, came up.

Dreams are considerably better than reality, anyhow…right?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

It was a rather frosty evening in Atlanta, Georgia when my mama convinced me to take a walk to give her a chance to bake me a pound cake for my birthday.

“Joshy, don’t you come back till you smell it in the breeze, you got that? I won’t have you spoiling nothin'.” Mama had said with her wide grin, as she gathered the ingredients onto the counter.

With hardly enough to pay for rent, I didn’t need a cake this year, but it was a tradition that mama refused to cancel. I had even found a hidden jar, stuffed with money that was labeled, “Cake money” scribbled in black permanent marker. We both loved pound cake, and she’d bake a different kind each year, always eager to watch me take the first bite. Her excitement was contagious.

Mama expected me to only take a stroll through our neighborhood, but I never settled for the humdrum and ventured out to the nearest park. The same area my dad would bring me to watch the Canadian Geese. We’d always share our Plantain chips with them, and then get a scolding from mama for wasting her snacks on wild birds.

It’s five years past now that my dad passed, leaving mama and me.

Still devoted to this park, I always avoided looking toward the goose pond. It would be all frozen over anyway this time of year.

A couple was walking in my direction, bundled in scarves and thick coats and I instinctively pulled my hood over my head and stuffed my hands in my pockets, but my bare legs I couldn’t hide, having forgotten to switch into my sweatpants.

The husband glanced my way, taking a second to look me over, while his wife rearranged her scarf.

I couldn’t help but think he was staring at my black legs, assuming the worst of me. I wasn’t his color, after all…but then he spoke.

“You look cold, would you like a coat?”

I froze in my tracks, startled by his concern.

His wife faced me, and eyed the shorts I was wearing, “Oh hon, do you have something warmer to wear?” She asked me. “Surely, we can buy him some, if not, right David?” She turned to face him.

“Without a doubt.” He confirmed.

I physically glanced behind me, thinking there must be some white kid there who was also crazy enough to wear shorts out here in the ice. Of course, no one was there. I faced the couple and smiled, “Thanks, but I got pants, ‘nd just figured I’d see how long I could handle the cold, is all.” I gave a shrug, and they returned my smile.

“Well, if you are quite certain?” The lady insisted and I nodded.

“Yep. I’m good.”

“We will let you get back to your challenge then.” The husband gave me a wink.

“Have a blessed evening, young man.” The wife added as they moved on past me, and I turned to watch them go and called after them. “You too!”

I then continued my own walk, but with a smile plastered on my face, still caught in amazement from the couple’s kindness. Yet my joyous expression turned sedate the second I saw the white man in a police uniform up ahead, standing off to the side near a bench. A lady and her daughter were sitting on the bench, talking with the officer.

My pulse sped up to the pace of a woodpecker drumming against a helpless tree, as I forced myself to just keep walking. My impulse was to halt and turn around to leave but I was rehearsed in how to behave around the police and to keep myself from seeming suspicious in any way. I grabbed my hood, pulled it down, and let out a nervous breath.

Sure enough, with the motion of removing my hood to reveal my head and face, the cop looked over at me. I tried to smile but he looked away too fast, which I was relieved about. Something about having a cop’s gaze on you is dreadful. I knew that wasn’t how it should be, and I truly wanted my perspective to be remedied on that matter. No cop had personally done anything to me to warrant my fears…but all the stories I’ve heard since I was little, were the culprit.

A nippy breeze brushed past me, and I suddenly became aware of the cold again and shivered. My sneakers did a poor job of keeping out the chill even though there wasn’t even enough snow to have a proper snowball fight if you wanted…

Still, though, the pavement was marked with ice patches and a thin layer of powder that melted under your step and seeped into your soles, if they were coming undone, as were mine.

I was eyeing the bare branches of the trees and their grave frames, when the sound of giggling turned my attention back to the small girl on the bench, laughing at something the officer said. I preferred not to watch them, but couldn’t help myself and even smiled, seeing the girl reach up with her tiny hand to place it on the cop’s cheek as he bent over. I wondered how they were acquainted but couldn’t deny that the interaction was sweet.

When I was within speaking distance, the lady and her daughter had gotten up, said a last word to the cop, and then turned my way.

I was smiling down at the daughter as they passed by me and noticed the mother tug her a bit closer.

“Good evenin',” I spoke, hoping it would ease any doubts, but she only curtly nodded and kept on.

The officer was watching them go and now watching me as well, as I gulped hard and told myself to look him in the eye and say something.

“Evenin'…” I said quietly, not even sure if he heard. He gave me a nod but kept his gaze on me for longer than was comfortable. Once I was passed, I shook the unease from my shoulders and let out my breath.

The evening’s light was waning, and most had already dispersed from the park, heading back to their warm homes and families. I wondered if mama was ready for me yet.

A man the same color as me caught my attention next. There was no need to feel dread around him, not having to be conscious of how I looked or how I walked.

He was wearing a trench coat and a beanie, which made me only feel colder. He was standing around, profusely rubbing his hands together, and taking a couple steps forward and then backward. I also noticed he kept hiking his pants way up his waist and guessed he was nervous about something as I passed by. Yet as I did, I tried to make eye contact, wanting to say hi but his darting eyes never looked my way, but only faced behind me.

By the time I hit the edge of the park, my mind was uneasy, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason why. The man in the trench coat kept coming back to my thoughts.

Something about his demeanor was keeping a frown on my face. I turned back to look the way I had come but it was now nearly fully dark, and I couldn’t make out anyone.

“What's he up to?” I asked myself, thinking back to how his movements seemed edgy or tense. The image of the officer standing near the bench came to mind and a chill sped up my arms. The unease in my gut was now intensified and I began to jog back towards that very bench.

On the way back, the sound of gunshots split the stillness of the snow-covered park and sent my mind to panic. Three or four rounds were fired off. I lengthened my stride into a sprint and ran hard towards the sound.

In the back of my head, I could hear mama’s warning voice, drilling me to steer clear of any trouble and all fights, no matter what. I couldn’t abide this time, not without at least knowing what was happening.

Running past where I had seen the man in the trench coat and then also the bench, seeing no one around, I then slowed to an urgent walk to see better, hoping that perhaps the gunfire was completely unrelated. White smoke burst from my mouth with each frazzled breath, but I no longer felt the cold against my skin.

The noise of distress somewhere to my left turned my gaze and then I saw them.

Two figures rolling around in the snow, fighting to be on top. I ran forward to get a better look and recognized the police uniform and trench coat, as the two men writhed and wrestled each other, kicking up the snow.

For the first minute, I didn’t know what to do and stood in shock, as the cop managed to grab his baton and began whacking the black man to get him off, but in a flash, the weapon was taken from the officer’s hands, and he was forced onto his stomach. He tried scrambling out of harm’s way instead. His attacker was all over him though, throwing punches and clawing at his uniform with wild and calloused hands. The cop fought to turn over onto his back and kicked his attacker off him.

I rushed forward again. My legs wobbled with every move and my pulse was in my throat.

The officer fumbled backward and tried to get to his feet, as he grabbed his radio and called for backup with a voice heavy with panic. Drops of fresh blood melted the snow around the officer as he collapsed back on the floor but kept scrambling backward and held up his hand to the attacker in a plea for mercy.

The attacker rushed forward, back on his feet, anxious to finish the fight.

“Hey! STOP!” I hollered suddenly, surprised by my own courage, but I’d seen enough, and I couldn’t just stand back and watch. The man in the trench coat faltered and turned to see who dared to interrupt him.

This time, I ran all the way up, darted past the hostile, and moved for the officer on the floor. Seeing me rushing up to him, the cop’s eyes filled with alarm, thinking I was an accomplice.

“Please—” He rasped in fear.

“I ain't here to hurt ya,” I explained hastily and noticed he was bleeding in several different spots, realizing he was shot multiple times. His radio crackled but he dared not touch it and was bracing himself, with his hands dug into the slush-covered grass, holding himself up in a sitting position.

“GET AWAY.” The attacker demanded, thrusting the reality of my interference into my already terrified brain.

I turned his way, “Be cool, man. Be cool. No one’s gotta die tonight.” I didn’t know what else to do but try and talk this enraged stranger down.

His eyes were wide and the veins in his forehead bulged, “I said, get away…”

“Why don’t we just talk about this, aye?”

He pinned me with black ice eyes, emptied of heart, and I shrunk back closer to the cop.

“Why do you defend white trash?? You a cop lover, boy…?” He took a step closer, as I pulled my gaze away from his glare to face the officer, who had begun to make noises with his throat that were alarming and riddled with pain. He could no longer hold himself up and was lying flat on the icy ground with trembling hands over his wounds.

“Why you doing this? What's he done to you??” I turned on the attacker with a tone of challenge.

“You know why he must die! Why they all deserve pain and death… white supremacy and corrupt cops will not rule MY city!”

My gaze dropped as something my dad used to tell me, came to mind. When I looked back up, the attacker had pulled two handguns from the backside of his pants. One his, the other, the cop’s, and now was holding them down at his sides.

“Ya’ know what my dad always told me t'do when I was tempted to hate white people? He said I should pretend to be colorblind… to imagine a world filled of people that all appear gray. He'd do the same, and that way, with only shades of gray, none could tell much of a difference. There'd be no clear difference if we ain’t capable of seeing color…n'more fighting…n'more hate…n'more racism for us that're different. I admit I fear cops, okay? I'm always stressin' and fearin' that they'll see in my eyes, a crime I'd never committed. I see how most folks look at me, at us, but I don’t hate any of 'em and not all are cruel. As many as are racist, there's sure to be equal amounts of those who don’t eye us for our skin color, but for the person, we're inside.” I paused to take a breath and glanced at the cop. His eyes were shut, but he was still breathing heavily. “There ain't no need to take your hatred out on him… it ain't worth it to have his blood on your hands.”

At that, the angered hostile raised one of the handguns and pinned it on the officer’s chest.

Out of impulse or just blatant insanity, I jumped to my feet and planted my body between the gun and the cop.

“Get outta my way…I don’t care if I gotta kill you too, boy.”

With the black handgun now pointed at me, facing death was different than I imagined it would be…and I felt ready to vomit, pass out, and cry all at the same time. Shivers assaulted my body in waves and all I wanted to do was run for my life. To hide and never speak another word, but something inside of me held me fast. More powerful than my fear was the need to save a life if I could.

The next minute was a blur as the attacker attempted to shove me away, instead, I went for the gun, and we wrestled for control until the trigger went off. I felt the flare of pain in my stomach as I fell backward. My vision dimmed and my first thought was about the pound cake I was going to miss out on.

Sirens screamed somewhere in my dreams or perhaps only in my hopes. Then darkness, and the cold, cradling my form with its icy hands.

I was sure I had died from that bullet, but several weeks of recovery time later and I was back home, dozing on our only living-room sofa. Mama was hanging laundry outback when I heard a knock on the door and got up to open it.

I was groggy and my abdomen was still tender as I moved but I swung open the door, figuring it was a neighbor, but standing on our porch was the cop I had saved. With him, stood the lady and little girl from the bench.

My eyes widened in shock and my gaze dropped to my shirtless chest.

“Oh, gee whiz, sorry ‘bout this—just give me a sec!” I exclaimed, leaving them on the porch to grab a shirt. I yanked it on and then ran back to greet them properly and noticed too late that my shirt was inside out. They had smiles on their faces as they introduced themselves, and the cop laid a hand on my shoulder to thank me for saving his life. His wife hugged me, also thanking me, and I sorta just stood there smiling and nodding.

“Why’d you do it?” Kevin, the officer then asked. “You had no reason to defend me, especially considering your standpoint on the police…”

I met his gaze and shrugged, “You put your life on the line every day for people. I know ya would have done so for me, so I thought I’d return the favor.” I said with a smirk.

“But you nearly died.”

“The threat of death ain't stopping you all from tryin' to save lives, so I ain't gonna let it stop me, neither.”

Tears came to Kevin’s eyes, and he turned to kiss his wife’s head to hide them, as she clung to his arm with a grateful smile, and their daughter stood patiently staring up at me.

“You ought to consider becoming a cop.” He said and I laughed, but secretly I was considering it.

There were a few seconds of silence before I invited them inside, but they couldn’t stay so we said our goodbyes and I was about to close the front door when the cop came back.

“Pretend to be colorblind, huh?” He said, and I stared at him blinking, realizing he must have been listening to what I was saying on that fateful evening.

“That’s right,” I said, beaming.

He gave me a nod and a grin, before rejoining his family, and left me with a heart overflowing with joy and hope.

Perhaps reality is better than dreams, after all.