I Wish Everyone Was Colorblind

"Get out of my house you ugly black slave!" A voice shouted after a loud thump followed by a softer thump.

"Please, sir, just give me a few more days!" Someone else begged, their voice cracking with every syllable.

"You've already wasted all your chances! Now get lost before I call the authorities!"

The door of the modern condo shut with a harsh slam!

Tears fell onto the hard concrete sidewalk and the whole word held its breath as it waited for the tears to stop. Not a single sound on the street of the sleepy town of Erie, Pennsylvania 1862.

The shivering figure sniffled into their knees and covered themselves with a tattered, old aviator jacket.

This was the life of poor, miserable Aarin Musa. But then again, this was 2 weeks ago. Things change, and Aarin had learned, sometimes it would change in your favor.

Aarin dried her tears with the sleeve of the aviator jacket and got up. She dragged her small, beaten up valise behind her as she mindlessly walked through the empty streets, hoping to find something to eat for the night. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could get someone to pity her and spare her some leftovers from their take-away.

Eventually, she found an abandoned alleyway where some thugs had smoked earlier that day, she had finally found a shelter. It wasn’t the best thing since sliced bread, but it would do for the night, assuming she found a better place tomorrow, when she had more strength.  

Aarin sat down in the corner, not caring that she was sitting on cigarette ashes. She sat there for a long time. Thinking about the purpose of her life. Just thinking. Some people would pass by the alley she was sitting in and turn their heads away in either disgust, fear, or pity. But no matter how much pity those strangers felt for her, if any, they didn’t do anything, not even an ‘Are you okay?’ or ‘Do you need help?’. That really goes to show where humanity has brought us.

Drowning in self shame, Aarin looked down at her rugged oversized sweatpants and tight pale yellow T-shirt. She was very sure everyone who passed by thought she was some crazy weirdo that was high on some sort of illegal drug. That’s just what people assume when they see a person of color who looks sick. But they would probably rush to help if Aarin was white. If, if, if. That’s what kept Aarin going. If, is a possibility, not reality, almost never reality.  

Sulking, wishing to just disappear from the face of the Earth, Aarin ate the handful of bread crumbs she had. She knew she would regret it later. She knew she would starve now that her last bit of food was gone, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to die, right there in that very spot. Maybe then she could finally be with her mother.

It was now long after noon and the sun had already started to set.  Aarin stared at her reflection in what she hoped was water on the ground next to her. She sighed. She was still black. And she could never change that. Aarin wondered what her life would be like if she was white. She would probably be treated like a human and not a vicious dog. That would be nice. She would probably be loved and accepted by her father.  

Yes, that man, that cruel man that threw her out, was her father. Anger coursed through Aarin’s veins. Garrett Blanchard. That was the name of her stupid, racist father. If it weren’t for him and his drinking addiction none of this would’ve happened. If it wasn’t for him Aarin’s mother would still be alive.  

Hot tears streamed down Aarin’s face and rolled off her cheeks, onto the ground. Aarin’s tears were quickly wiped away when she noticed someone staring at her. Someone tall. Someone who made a good amount of money. It was obvious from the man’s warm clothing that he lived a comfortable life. But what really shocked her was his skin. It was white. Aarin was confused. Why was a white man paying her attention?   He’s probably here to tell me to leave, Aarin thought, slowly cleaning up her stuff.  

The man started walking towards her.

“What are you doing here, kiddo?” The man asked, bending down to Aarin’s sight range.

Aarin frowned. Kiddo? Aarin was 17 years old, 9 months and 21 days old. Almost a legal adult.  

The man’s face was slim and creepy. His eyes were wide, his nose was long and pointy, and his teeth looked as yellow as canned corn. He smelled like rancid smoke.

Aarin stayed quiet, hoping the man would go away if he didn’t get an answer.

“Have you eaten anything?” The man asked, feeling Aarin’s arms. “You’re practically skin and bones!”

Aarin continued to stare at him, not saying a word. Maybe he would go away if she pretended she could understand. Maybe he would think she’s a retard and leave her alon like evryone else. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

“Not much of a talker are ya?” The man asked.

Aarin resumed staring.

The man rummaged around his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in foil. The man unwrapped the foil to reveal a half-eaten burrito.

“Here, kiddo,” The man said, placing the burrito in Aarin's hand. She looked at him in an odd way, confused on why he was being so nice to her since she was black, but nodded to him in thanks.

“You know, my best friend is black.,” The man said. “But now, of course, she’s my hopefully future fiancée.”

Aarin’s eyes widened. That was against every law she had ever known! This was illegal! Interracial marriage was a crime! How could this white man love a black woman to such an extent that he would risk getting put in jail for her? This was scary but also amazing at the same time. This meant not all white people were as bad a nasty Garret Blanchard. Aarin smiled. This man was so nice, she wished all people would treat her like this. But things seem to just never get better in Aarin’s case.

 The man sat down next to Aarin.

“The name’s Arlo by the way. What’s your name?” The man asked.

Aarin stared at him for a minute. She still didn’t trust him enough to talk.

Aarin pointed at the sky, then all around her.

“Oxygen? The sky? Gas? Air?” Arlo guessed.

Aarin nodded at the Inn across the street.

“Inn? Your name is Air-Inn?” Arlo asked, confused.

Aarin nodded.

“Well, Air-Inn, I have a question for you.” Arlo declared.

Aarin looked at him expectantly, meeting his eyes for the first time since they met.  

“This question has had me thinking ever since my mother asked me it,” Arlo said. “If you had one wish, and you could do anything you wanted with that wish, what would you wish for?”

Aarin stared at him, already knowing her answer.

“When I was a young lad, I wished for a new toy that had just come out. Now, I would probably wish for eternal health or something like that.” Arlo prompted, trying to get even a single word out of Aarin.

“I wish everyone was colorblind,” Aarin finally said. “Then, nobody would treat me like some sort of subhuman, everybody would make me finally feel like a person.”

“That’s nice,” Arlo said.

“Mhm.”

Arlo grunted and walked away.  He walked away.  Just like that.  He was the best thing to ever happen to Aarin and he was just going to walk away?

Aarin huffed and laid down, using her valise as a pillow and her aviator jacket as a blanket.  It was terribly uncomfortable, but it was better than sleeping on the floor of Garrett’s apartment.

Aarin nervously walked towards her father’s apartment.  She had just been fired from her job as a housemaid for a wealthy white couple a few blocks away earlier that day.

She nervously opened the door and peeked inside to see her father passed on the couch and bottles of beer littered the floor of the tiny apartment.  Aarin sighed with relief and hoped that Garrett would forget to demand for her work salary.  With little faith, she picked up all the beers and cleaned the place up to a T.

Suddenly Garrett shuffled in his sleep and woke up with a start.  He looked around in panic and scowled when he saw Aarin.

“You there!  Girl!” He yelled, pointing at Aarin.

“Y-yes, sir?” Aarin said, rushing to Garrett.

“Where’s my money?” Garrett yelled.

“W-well . . . Y-you see, sir . . . I-i g-g-got fired!” Aarin squeaked out, closing her eyes in fear she would get hit.

“WHAT!?” Garrett screamed, giving Aarin a harsh slap to the cheek.

“I-i’m so sorry, sir!  It won’t happen again, I promise!  Please”  Aarin pleaded as Garrett pulled her hair in frustration.

“How dare you get fired!  You useless mistake!”  Garrett reprimanded.  “You should’ve died along with your mother!”

Anger pumped within Aarin.

“Don’t you dare talk like that about my mother!” She screamed back, instantly regretting it.

“Did you just talk back?” Garrett shrieked, enraged by Aarin’s sudden backlash.

“No, sir!  I’m so so sorry!  I didn’t mean to!  I’ll be good!”  Aarin begged for mercy as Garrett grabbed a bullwhip from the nearby coffee table.

Garrett cracked his whip and lunged at Aarin, daring her to fight back.

Aarin stood still, tears rolling down her cheeks, knowing her punishment would only get worse if she fought back.

The house was filled with the sounds of Garret's whip and Aarin’s screams, pleading for forgiveness.

“Get out of my house,” Garrett finally said.  “ Before I finish you like I did your mother.”

“No!” Aarin screamed, waking up in a cold sweat, panting like crazy.  “Oh.  It was just a dream.”

Aarin sat up with her jacket covering her as she stared straight ahead of her, not sure if she wanted to go back to sleep.

“Air-Inn!” A familiar voice shouted.  Aarin slightly brightened upon finding out who it was.  It was Arlo.  A black woman was also running towards Aarin, holding Arlo’s hand.

“Air-Inn,” Arlo said, finally getting to her.  “This is my fiancee, Hilde Kristiansen.”

“Nice to meet you,” She whispered to the woman.

“Hello, dear,” Hilde said.  “You must be Air-Inn.”

Aarin nodded, a small smile sneaking onto her face, she liked this woman.

“We were wondering if you would like to be our adopted daughter?” Hilde asked, placing Aarin’s hand in hers and giving her a loving look.

“That would be amazing,” Aarin said, tearing up. “Mom.”