The Story Of Bella

May, 18 (1945)

Dear Diary,

After I woke up this morning and curled my hair I was met by a peculiar remembrance. That weird girl Ally's birthday is today. Don't ask me how I know. I couldn't tell you. Anyways, it's Ally's birthday. I considered sewing her a dress (it'd be good practice if I want to be a seamstress) or baking her a cake. I wondered what I might get her as I walked to school with the girls when we were stopped by a tall white man. He was quite good looking and I felt my dark cheeks get hot. He looked down at me cruelly. "Now you know good well you don't belong on this rode." He barked.

   The girls shook their heads and looked every which way but the man's cruel blue eyes. I was baffled! Now, why were they acting so shy? Did they have no pride? I looked the man dead in the eye and slipped a curl from my face. "Our normal rode was shut down for construction. If you'll allow, we'll move along and be on our way."

The man looked at me angrily. "I think you'll have to find another route. You don't belong here." He said roughly. His first remark was a nudge. This was a push. He was testing me, I saw but I wouldn't budge. "If you'll allow we'll move along and be on our way." The girls hushed me with their eyes, slightly grabbing my arm saying "no, don't say that."

Still, I stared down the man. Remarkably, he turned, and allowed us to pass, looking at me with no more cold, cruel eyes, but curious ones. I gave him one last look and went back to planning for Ally.

When we arrived at the schoolyard, I approached Ally. "Ally? Happy birthday, love." I said cheerfully. She grinned wildly. "Why, you're the first one today!" I smiled and pointed to her freshly pressed hair. "You're hair is magnificent. Whoever pressed your hair like that has to come to mine next!" She blushed. She was light-skinned, so shunned within our community, but I liked her enough. She was still peculiar to me, though. Still, I smiled. "I was going to sew you a dress or bake you a cake? Which would you choose?" She grinned. She placed a thoughtful finger on her chin. "A cake, please." I nodded, turning away to join my friends.

When I arrived, they were telling of our run-in with that tall man. "He looked about 25 and he was so fine, Barbara. Bella told him off, too. He told us we couldn't take our route and she. Went. Off!" I cast her a look. I didn't appreciate how she was making me look. I pulled her aside by the arm. "Don't tell them I did that! I didn't. I simply asked him to allow us to continue. You're making me look malicious!"

She turned her head. "They deserve it, Bella."

She turned her head and walked away.

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May 18 (1984)

Dear Diary,

I laugh as Ally tells me a joke. The bar is loud and afros bob around the room. Afros are the new thing. I refuse to try it, though. It's wild and loud while I'm a wallflower and makes you noticeable. Well, being the only one without it makes you noticeable too. Hmm, I never thought of it like that, diary.

Women aren't allowed in here, but Ally got us in by flashing her gorgeous kinkled curls. The bar is segregated, and there's a wall dividing the Negro side and the Whites Only side. Ally's afro bounces wildly as she dancing, swinging her hips and her head. It's her birthday, and I'm here to celebrate, but this isn't really my scene.

I'm sipping water, (I don't drink alcohol) when a tall, fine white man approaches me. I cast him a confused, but lazy look. "I don't belong on this side, do I? Too many Negros over here."

I roll my eyes, too tired to fight back. I point lazily to the Whites Only door. He nods and begins to walk away.

No thank you?" I say with extra sass. He looks at me with cruel blue eyes. Those cruel blue eyes. "I know you," I said moving closer. "You told me and my girls that we were on the wrong street when I was 17 years old." His lip twitched but otherwise, his face remained stiff. "Were you on the wrong side?" He said.

I crossed my arms. 'I was not."

"You most likely were."

"I was NOT."

He stared down at me. "Would you like to go on a walk with me?"

I stared down at the ground, hiding my smile. "One moment," I say.

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May 18th (2051)

Dear Diary,

Ally died today. And on her birthday too. A shame. When I told this to Timothy he nodded himself to sleep. I love that man.

I've lived a hard life. Nobody accepted Timothy and me for a long time. That was hard to live with. He was worth it, though.

I've had a hard life. But I met Ally when I was 9 and we became best friends when I was 17. I met the love of my life when I was 21. And I've lived to be 88. I think it's time to rest now. I've worked all my life, provided all my life, been hated all my life. Now, I’m accepted for me. I was just looking at Timothy. He was so racist, hated me so terribly. I often wonder, what if he’d met a beautiful white woman? What if he’d loved her instead, bore her children instead? I do wonder, but I never fear. I knew he was mine, all mine. And Ally, my best friend Ally. I celebrated her birthday always and will be as she’s gone. Yes, I am. Yes, I am quite, quite tired here. 

I think it's time to rest.

-Bella 

THE END