Syrup Stains

**Trigger Warning: Mental Health, Physical Violence**

_

As per usual, Dr.Marigold was eager to start our session, “Okay, whenever you’re ready. The last time we met, you mentioned you wanted to tell me about the first time you recognized you are oppressed.”

Here goes nothing, “I’m ready.”

Gently, she instructs me, "Jane, I want you to ease into a state of deep relaxation. With each word I speak, feel your body becoming more at ease. Imagine a gentle wave of relaxation flowing through you. This is a sanctuary, a place where you can release all tension. Let your arms unwind, your core soften, and your legs feel weightless, like drifting on a cloud.

As you listen to the sound of my voice, allow yourself to drift into a dreamlike state, yet remain fully aware. Now, I want you to journey back to a moment of pain, a time when you felt deeply wounded. But remember, you are safe here. Acknowledge the hurt, but also recognize your strength. You are not defined by past pain but by your capacity to heal and grow. Take us back to the dark place.”

_

As I climax on the seesaw, my feet lightly kick the air, my fluffy coils flutter around my sticky face, and my heart takes flight within the bony barriers of my chest. It’s springtime, maybe the middle of April. I smell daisies. With each passing second under the beaming sun, I feel beads of sweat collect at the nape of my neck, some of them trickling down my spine. My skin is lightly dusted with sand from my earlier plunge into the pit. Otherwise, I feel the rays of the sun permeate my skin, progressively making me darker. I’m learning that it’s painful being black sometimes, but in moments like these, I bask in my darkness.

I am almost 13 years old, and I’m the playground queen. Whenever I’m here, I get to play wherever I want without having to wait. Usually, it goes like this: The park will be filled with pale kids of all ages. There are a few in the neighborhood who look like me, but they prefer to go home straight after school. One of my friends told me her mom said she’s got something for her if she gets home late. I wonder what it is…

In my kingdom, as soon as I start walking towards what I want, the crowd makes way for Queen Mary Jane! Before I made it into the pit today, white mommas ran to grab their children, leaving the arid arena all to yours truly. If I ever wanted to conquer the monkey bars, the little white ones would scatter, and loudly commend me from the sidelines. I recall my slender arms branching out from bar to bar, and my ears would ring, “Watch the monkey go!” and “Monkey! Monkey! Monkey!” It’s only befitting of the playground queen to have skills like I do.

I don’t have much at home that I can claim, so it feels pretty good to assert my dominion in the park. Lately though, as the sun approaches its highest point in the sky, the intensity of my loneliness did too. Queen Mary Jane wants to split mudpies with surrounding folk, but I can never get close enough to offer. I’ll try saving up this week's allowance. Next week I’ll bring a soda pop so we can have a tea party with our pies. I’m sure they won’t be able to resist.

Today is a good day, because the only place where I never play is the seesaw, but I’m doing it right now! There’s never anyone else that sticks around, but today there is. We haven’t said anything to each other yet. From what I can tell, she’s in the park alone. Her momma must be making dinner at home and told her to keep out the way, that’s what my momma tells me anyway.

She was on the seesaw by herself at first. Her white skin shimmered with perspiration. Her nose and cheeks are red with heated frustration. She was doing it all wrong. Trying to fly up the seesaw all by herself. I observe her futile attempts from the chain ladder. She would bend her knees like a frog, fill her cheeks with air, and then push off the ground with her tippy toes. She would make it about a foot in the air before she came crashing down, letting go of all the air she had collected in her lungs. It looked fun for the first two minutes, but I noticed her pink lips turn downwards a little after that. I was determined to lift her spirits, full of resolve to join her, and hopeful a mudpie and soda pop tea party time might cheer her up. Uncertain of the outcome, I still sensed the odds were in my favor.

I peeled myself away from the sweltering metal and skipped my way towards her. Her seaweed eyes grew wider as I drew nearer. Just as I reached her, she rose from her seat, causing the seesaw to tilt towards me. Flashing a smile to reassure her Queen Mary Jane just wanted to help her peoples, I settled onto the seat. She hesitated, swaying gently as she surveyed our surroundings, her lips caught between her teeth. With one eye open, and a grimace on my face, I extended my hand up for her to shake. If she had fled like the others, I might have considered abandoning my kingdom. However, to my delight, she responded with a lopsided smile and took my hand in hers. Her skin was real smooth, reminiscent of vanilla ice cream.

Then we start teetering, taking turns soaring through the seesaw sky. I eye her closely, admiring the way her golden hair cascades around her freckled face with each descent. She returns my gaze with a pretty smile, mirroring my own joy. Only five minutes have elapsed since we commenced our game, but it feels as though hours have passed.

I decided to break the silence, introducing myself, "I'm Queen Mary Jane, age 12 and three quarters."

She giggles in response, her voice light, "I'm Daisy, age 11 and a half."

She was playing alone earlier. She must be royalty like me, “Are you also a queen of the playground?”

“I’m just Daisy. How did you become queen?”

“Well, I pretty much always get the playground to myself like a queen would.” I joyfully holler “Long live the queen!” As I descend. I continue “It’s lonely being queen though.”

Daisy started twisting her lips between her teeth again, her eyes not as big and bright as before anymore. "Do you know why you have the park to yourself?" she asks, her tone more subdued.

I mull over her question. I know it has to do with being black because similar stuff happens in school too... I’m just not sure what it is about being black that keeps the others away.

"It's something I've thought about. I’m not sure," I admit cautiously. 

I decided to prod, hopeful for insight, “Do you know why I have the park to myself?”

Her eyes widen with knowledge, and she nods solemnly. "Mmmhmm. My mommy told me," she confides, her voice tinged with fear. "But she told me not to say. If she sees me with you right now, she'll beat me till I look like you."

"That doesn't sound too nice," I acknowledge, my curiosity piqued. "But your momma isn't here right now. Tell me, pretty pretty please, with vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup, and lots of rainbow sprinkles on top."

“My mommy doesn’t let me have chocolate. Only strawberry syrup,” Daisy shares with a tinge of disappointment.

“What! Your momma must have never tried chocolate,” I exclaimed in disbelief.

“You’re probably right! She told me no chocolate is family tradition.”

We both pout and look away in a unified fuss.

“Well you’re playing with me, and your momma already wouldn’t like that. Vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup when I get money won’t hurt,” I propose, hoping to lift Daisy's spirits.

She considers my offer, her dainty pink lips pressed together in thought. I felt inclined to mirror her mouth; I try to fold my full lips.

“Deal. But you can’t get upset at me after I tell you,” she counters, leaning forward across the seesaw handlebars with her pinky up. Our pinkies intertwine as quickly as they slip away from each other as we continue to propel ourselves on and off the ground in our newfound alliance, “Deal.”

“Mmm, so think about it this way,” Daisy says, tilting her head sideways, her hair flowing in sync with the movement. “My mommy says chocolate syrup is no good…”

“You said that already,” I interject.

“Well, your skin is kinda chocolate, right?”

I feel a warmth spreading within me, a mix of the sun's rays and a growing sense of discomfort. I wanted to smile because baking under the sun was a nice feeling, but I know she’s about to say something bad about my skin. I keep my eyes down and nod.

“That means I’m supposed to stay away,” Daisy concludes, her words feel like a twisting knife in my chest.

"Oh," I murmur, feeling my eyes welling up with tears.

Weakly, I protest, "But chocolate is good." Despite my attempt at defiance, my cocoa lips can't help but curl downwards, and the air around us suddenly chillier.

Daisy hesitates for a moment before offering a tentative reassurance, "I don't know. I haven't tried it. But you're nice, I think. If you were chocolate syrup, I would tell my friends about you."

“Is this why they run? All the mommas grab their children when they see me comin’,” I ask, my voice trembling with a mix of hurt and realization.

“Probably,” Daisy responds stately. “I hear my mommy talk to my friends’ mommies sometimes. They’re always yelling about keeping away from the monk- the um, the uh, you guys. Chocolate. Black.”

I stop seesawing, letting my feet find solid ground while Daisy remains suspended in the air. The brightness of the sun obscures her facial features, leaving only her silhouette visible to me.

“Monkeys! You said 'monkeys'. What does that mean? I thought that was a good thing! When I do the monkey bars, they cheer for me! That's the only time the other kids stay close! I’M the playground queen!” I scream, my voice cracking with confused pain.

I stand up and take a step back, overwhelmed by the implication. I want to run away and hide, unable to comprehend how people could be so cruel. As Daisy floats down like a pasty tissue falling from the sky onto the ground, resentment rages through my veins. I oughta wipe my boogers on her.

She moved her head to the side to meet my gaze, her expression tinged with remorse. “I’m sorry. The mommies say your color are monkeys… Sometimes monkeys act crazy, they have dark skin too, and their hair is bushy. Yours isn’t so bad, but I’ve seen others look like-” She extends her fingers above her head and waves them around to mimic her perception of us. Is that what we look like?

My momma tells me I’m beautiful because of all the love she and the Lord have for me. She tells me Hershey could never dream of a chocolate as perfect as me. Everybody stop and stare 'cause I'm special. Special... What kind of special? What’s wrong with chocolate? I don’t understand what any of it means… But it makes me feel terrible inside.

I couldn’t hold in my tears anymore. They rapidly streamed down my face, leaving a trail of heat behind as they did. I kept my eyes real open so Daisy could see she was not getting any ice cream from me.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, but it’s not nice. You’re not nice. Your momma ain’t nice. All the other mommas ain’t nice. You can keep your strawberry syrup. Keep the playground. I don’t want it anymore! It’s yours!” My voice shook with hurt.

I wanted to walk away, but I was defeated. If I go home and my momma sees me like this, she’s sure to start something. I don’t know what she’ll do, but I don’t want to give anyone a reason to call us monkeys.

“We had a deal. You said you wouldn’t get upset. I still want to try chocolate syrup, so stop crying. I’m just telling you what I know,” she insists defensively with only a sliver of sympathy.

She lifted herself from the seesaw and approached me. Don’t look, don't look, don’t look. I had boogers brimming my bottled lips.

“Come on. Wash your face in the sprinklers. I almost have to go. Let’s make our ice cream plan,” Daisy urges, pulling me by the hand towards the sprinkler circle.

I let her guide me. Her perspective in this world allows her to navigate with confidence. Still hesitant, I say, “Sand is okay because I can shake it off, but my momma says I can’t get wet.”

“My mommy lets me do almost whatever I want. Getting in the sprinkler to wash your face won’t hurt. Deal?” Daisy offers, lifting her pinky, a gesture of reassurance.  

I manage a half smile and connect my pinky with hers, “Deal.”

The cool mist from the sprinklers embraces my frail body. The sun is not as bright or high anymore. It must be nearly dinner time. Daisy peers at me from under her blonde lashes as I put my face directly in front of a stream of water shooting from the ground. It splashes everywhere, my shirt is drenched and my shoes are slick. At least you can’t see my tears anymore.

When I resurface my face, I realize the sun is hanging real low now, as do our shadows. I keep my eyes steady on the ground now. “Thank you for letting me play with you. Next time we can have ice cream with chocolate syrup, but then you gotta join my soda pop tea party time with mudpies too.”

“Mudpies?” Daisy scrunches up her nose, but there's a light smile on her face. However, her eyes dart, focusing on something behind me, and her lips part in shock. “Ohhh no, it’s her.”

“Your momma?!” I turned around, and there she was. She was stomping on the ground, each step making her pale, prickly thighs jiggle like grape Jell-O. Her fat breasts were spilling from her spaghetti strap top. She was a pressure cooker with the vilest concoction bubbling inside, steam hissing through flared nostrils, warning of the imminent explosion intended for me.

I step away and stand behind Daisy. 

“Daisy Darlene De Luccetti! If you don’t step away from that wet monkey right now, you might as well live in the jungle with the rest of them. This the loose monkey I’ve been hearing about.” As she made herself within arm’s reach, I could see her cheeks were speckled and rosy like Daisy’s, her lips the color of strawberry syrup. 

“Bye Mary-,” Daisy waved without looking back and stepped forward. Her momma swept her up by an arm and pulled her aside. Then SLAP! I was consumed by darkness. I know I fell because my spine rattled. I could feel my knees and palms encrusted with tiny sharp rocks and wet sand. My ears were hot, and they were ringing, “God damn monkey, I best show you what’ll happen if I see you animals near OUR kingdom again. You stay the hell away and know your place.” My mouth was filled with something. What is this? I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands until I could see. Then I swiped my throbbing mouth with the back of my right hand as I held myself up with the other. Strawberry syrup, but the taste isn’t as sweet as I wish it was.

I kept my gaze fixed on their feet, my black eyes cast downward. I didn’t dare look up. A long and heavy silence enveloped us. Then without another word, they turn around and make their way home.

Right then and there I decided I’d be a queen somewhere else for all the right reasons, and everyone in the kingdom would love chocolate.

_

“On the count of 3, I’m going to ask you to wake up. 1… 2… 3… Wake up.”