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Again, I’m met with glazed eyes and twisted lips.
He doesn’t care, Brenna.
I know that.
I can see that.
But this is what gets me up in the morning. This is what fuels my fire. It gives me life.
I jump into my speech even though I’m aware that I have a less than enthused audience. “A month ago, I found evidence that the occupants of this house were supporters of a local abolitionist society. That significantly increased the chances of—”
“Lady, I really don’t give a damn. I’m just trying to do my job.”
Rejected. I purse my lips in irritation.
He juts his chin at the road. “Just go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Do you think this protest is helping anybody? All you’re doing is causing a fuss.” He wipes the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. The movement knocks his hat back to reveal the wrinkles in his dark brown skin. “I’ve been around long enough to see some ‘history’ of my own.” He scowls. “This house won’t feed a black family living on food stamps. It won’t take all the black brothers out of prison. It won’t heal the black sons who grow up without fathers. This stupid house…” He jabs a finger in my direction, “is worth nothing.”
“And you are entitled to your opinion.”
“Lady—”
“Since you shared yours. Let me share mine. If we understand our history, we can prevent…”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a toddler playing with a shiny red ball on the lawn. Unease slips through my veins.
“What happened in the past still affects our circumstances in the present…”
The kid lets out a shriek of laughter as the ball slips from her hands and bounces toward the road.
She chases after it. Her blonde hair streams behind her. Her gap-toothed smile is the definition of joy. I’m blinded by the sparkle in her blue eyes.
Don’t run, sweetie. Stay on the sidewalk.
My lips move on rote, barely connecting with my brain as most of my faculties hone in on the child. “And when we acknowledge where we’ve been, where we’ve risen from…”
The baby screeches to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk and glances back at her house in deep contemplation. Her little toes nudge and squirm in her hot pink princess sandals.
Stay right there, baby.
I start to move in her direction.
“Where are you going?” The construction worker gawks at me. “Lady!”
“Just a minute.” I wave him away.
My eyes lock on the ball that’s stuck near the middle of the road.
Don’t you dare.
Just then, the little girl sprints toward her toy.
Panic erupts in my heart.
A nightmare flares to life. It features another little girl. One with skin a shade darker than mine and eyes full of innocence. I see a car racing around the bend. Shiny and glimmering. Grills for teeth. Headlamps for eyes. A hood desperate to devour.
