The 'N' Word, Book 1 (14 page)

4. I am well known in my community and it may at times take me away from home. As stated, I am a freedom fighter. I need a partner who understands this and can deal with it.

5. I would treat you differently than I’d treat others. That is actually a plus. I am hard on others, but would be loving to my significant other, just as I have been in the past. The line of separation is quite clear to me.

Now, if you’re not interested in getting to know me further, please just say this so that I may move on to other women who are open to what I’ve discussed here. There would be no hard feelings at this stage of the game and I would respect your candor completely. You owe me nothing, and I owe you nothing but the truth. I’m direct, as I’m certain you can see. I see no reason to draw objectives out as they pertain to my love life. You’d still be allowed to write me because friendship is always nice, but I want to know your intentions. You know mine, and now, the ball is in your court.

Sincerely,

Aaron

T
HE RASPBERRY LEMONADE
and mango iced tea mixture went down nice and smooth. Today was particularly blistering; the heated fingers from the depths of an erupted volcano seemed to reach out across the land from Hawaii to Alabama, and say, ‘Aloha.’ Mia sat on her slanted front stoop porch steps, delighted to see a car or two every so often pass by on the rather quiet, desolate road. When she looked out beyond the horizon, she saw no front yard but a field of grass and vibrant wild flowers that went so long and wide, neither the beginning nor end was clear to the naked eye. The area was gated with massive and protective sweet scented Eucalyptus trees.

The Italian Cyprus, with their long bodies, added a touch of elegance as they guarded the property, while her Muscogee Crapes showed off their flowering, lavender blooms, sassy and feminine as they were. Mia crossed her ankles, one of which was sore due to a rather lengthy walk earlier that morning. She’d begun to sprint, then found herself flat on the ground with a mouthful of dirt and cool grass.

Still, this was a great excuse to relax; a much needed break especially after having to physically fight Zion right before the end of the day. The poor child had had an allergic reaction. Some dimwit brought peanuts into the place and gave him a few, and his itchy skin caused an avalanche of perplexed emotions. To make matters worse, earlier in the week she was told that his parents were considering placing him in a special home for boys… She was staunchly against it, though she realized the choice was not hers to make. For a split second, she contemplated offering to adopt him should his parents proceed with such a thing. Zion was brilliant, but he needed special care and there was no way he’d receive it in such a place.

Mia believed she just needed a bit more time with him, and she’d crack open his hidden world… just a bit more time…

Now she was home, away from it all, enjoying a good time to pause, reflect, and read…and read she did. Earlier, she’d relieved her ivory mailbox that sat hitched on a wooden post of its crammed contents. The thing stood a bit crooked at the end of the graveled road leading up to her front porch, but she refused to replace it. In her eyes, it looked charming. After removing the rubber-banded wad, she made her way back up the uneven driveway. One piece of mail caught her attention above all others. She removed a letter wrapped in the customary Holman Correctional Facility envelope.

Hmmm, what’s this?

When she unveiled the thing, she inhaled the slight odor of burnt cigarettes, but then, what truly struck her most was the content…

She now sat on the steps, swollen ankle and swollen ideas to match, the weighty deliberations moving about in a tight space within her head…

He writes so distinctly… not that a prisoner can’t be eloquent; it just… I don’t know. I didn’t expect that…

She’d spoken to prisoners several times a week, and they were all different, but this particular man, Aaron Pike, drew her curiosity out from its delicately wrapped folds. The man was on the hunt for a wife and made no broken or strained bones about it. She sat there a moment longer, took another sip from her glass, and then set it neatly beside her. She reached to her right and picked up her dark blue ink pen and a lavender piece of paper that she often used to write letters to parents…

Dear Aaron,

I appreciate your direct approach. Of course, no one knows what the future holds for any of us, except God. I thank you for stating that you’re looking for a life partner, a wife. I have just recently admitted to myself that I, too, am looking to settle down again. I ended a five-year relationship some time ago and needed some time to sort things out. Like you, now, I know the type of man I want. I have been selective as to whom to date. I don’t wish to waste any valuable time, though I’m pacing myself. However, I’m not looking to become romantically involved with an inmate. I believe that would be unwise on my part. I also appreciate that you understand that your record, regardless of your being an activist or otherwise, could cause some women concern who would otherwise be happy to be in your dating pool. That being said, I’m more
than happy to develop a friendship with you.

I’ll answer your questions now and then follow up with additional information, especially since you were so generous and forthcoming with particulars regarding your personal life.

1. What’s your political affiliation? I’m a registered Democrat.

2. What’s your favorite dessert? Chocolate fudge cake. I make the absolute best! The technique was created and passed down by my great, great grandmother. All of it is made from scratch and I have not deviated from the original recipe.

3. Do you have any children? No, and I’ve never been married either, but I look forward to becoming a wife and mother. It is something I truly desire, actually. I like the idea of being a family unit. I was raised around such a thing. I am one of seven children, the 5
^th
eldest. I had a happy home for the most part as a child, and that is a gift, something I wish to experience once again as an adult.

4. Are you a Christian? In the technical definition, the answer is yes, meaning I do believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God. My father is a minister and my mother a schoolteacher so as I am certain you can imagine, I grew up in a religious home. Regardless of this, my father, though wishing for all of his children to adopt his beliefs, has slowly come to realize that we are all individuals and must pave our own way. I was raised in the church though I do not attend nearly as much since I’ve moved away from my hometown in Auburn. I do have an open mind, however, and try to learn as much as possible.

5. What do you look like? I’m 5’7” and weigh around 135 lbs. I have long black curly hair and what I’d call medium brown eyes. They aren’t light, and they aren’t dark, but somewhere in between – like honey. Like you, I stay active and try to keep in shape, particularly since I love to cook and especially enjoy sweets. It is my weakness, unfortunately, and if I wasn’t such a good baker, it would make life a bit easier. But hey, a little indulgence is okay every now and again, right? Sometimes a little taste of chocolate makes life so much better…

As is stated in the instructions, I have the same questions for you. I wish you well on your quest to find your “Mrs. Pike.” Now, in additional information, I have several hobbies, one of which is writing for pleasure. Something you stated reminded me of a memory of my childhood. You wrote about needing to control your environment. I can identify with that, too. I think when people are like us, that is, have that sort of characteristic, it is based in fear. Like, what would happen if things were moved all around and people didn’t behave in the manner that we wanted them to? What is the worst that can happen? Sometimes we make things scarier than they are, cause a problem that doesn’t exist due to our need to control. I’ve written a lot about this, and have countless pieces on the subject, but there is one I’d like to share with you. First though, let me give you a bit of background.

When I was a little girl, I spent a lot of time at my grandmother’s home with my cousin and sisters and brothers. My grandmother was tall in stature, but soft and small in her demeanor. We loved being with her. Anyway, she had a lot of land and we’d play games, have family dinners out there and all sorts of things. It was the source of peace for me. Whenever I would feel nervous or upset, even now as an adult, I will sometimes think back to my times there. On her land stood an old tree. At the time, as a little child, it scared me. Large and dark, it cast a huge shadow over the entire area. The branches were thick and winding, the bark beaten by the hands of time.

The tree was half dead, but she refused to have it cut down, despite my father and his sister’s protests. That tree sat right outside the window of the bedroom I’d stay in. Sometimes I’d wake up crying, completely losing my mind over it. My grandmother told me that old tree had a lot of history and wisdom, and that’s why, even though it was impaired, she’d never cut it down. She told me, jokingly, that tree was there to stay, so I may as well get over my fears and make friends with it.

One day, I decided to confront my fears. I went outside and stood in front of that tree. I reached out and touched it, then looked down and noticed a cluster of small, beautiful flowers growing around it. I felt like if those flowers could surround it like that, then some of those roots must’ve been okay, and if those tiny flowers weren’t afraid of the tree, than nor should I. I think, Aaron, some people are so afraid of things that are there to help them, not push them away. I was afraid of what I saw on the outside, deemed it as scary. That tree was older than my great, great grandmother. It was a part of her life, her history, and it was still giving life to those around it! It had purpose…and I finally understood that. One day I sat down to write, and thought about that old tree, my fears, all of which were unfounded… and here is what I wrote…

You don’t look right to me, old crooked tree.

You’re taller than the heavens, but its leaves you lack –

You’re dark and murky, gray and white

Coated in shades of black.

I came outside to see you

Grandma said you would not go.

So I came out to talk with you, lean in real close…

You barely have leaves.

And you’re dried out, fruitless, awkward and sad.

But then I looked low, and realized

I’d truly been had.

By my own silly emotions,

My fears of what was not meant to be –

You were an old tree,

That mothered a floral family.

They clung to your essence,

For you are Mother Earth –

I was too simple to see,

Your value and your worth

Say I ask for your forgiveness

For wanting a perfect world –

Thinking if you’d been removed,

I’d be a happy girl.

The true horror didn’t lie in your branches,

Your sway or your ways –

The repulsion of it all was in my mind,

And it stayed there, day after day

If we subtract only a symptom

Doesn’t the problem still stake its claim?

I can cut you down to size

But your roots would always remain.

And you are not my issue.