I wrote this fic because of a Twitter talk with some Sleepyheads. You know who you are. Enjoy. :)
"Does your family know that I am not African-American?" Crane said as he drove himself and Abbie to the park. It was her family's annual reunion.
She squeezed his knee. "They won't care if you're white."
"You haven't told them, have you?"
She moved her hand to play with her seat belt. "It doesn't matter, Crane."
"We both know it does, Abbie." He glanced at her once he stopped at a red light.
She found the window button much more interesting than him. Her eyes would go elsewhere if she was nervous.
"Are you scared they won't accept us?"
He was excited to see Abbie's roots. He's met her friends; they all took a liking to him. His skin color wasn't an issue. But just because they welcomed him doesn't mean her family necessarily would. They have been on the opposite end before. Encountering unfavorable behavior from a few strangers never made them feel good. Some outright stared in disgust; their upper lip curled up, like an inching worm, and their eyes gave them the once-over. Some ignored them entirely. When they were alone with each other, they kissed and hugged. They didn't know what else to do for comfort. He hoped this wouldn't be one of those occasions. Naturally, he understood her fear; it sidled in him, too.
"The light is green," she said.
Her family wore blue t-shirts. Kids kicked a ball, giggled and squealed as they tagged one another, and climbed and swung from the jungle gym playset. The adults played card games, danced in formation to music the DJ played under the park under the picnic area. Some passed out plates to children and the elderly while others sat at the wooden benches with plates of their own. Crane saw nothing but smiles that made their eyes appear small. He heard laughter that bounced through the cracks in the benches. It travelled all the way to where he and Abbie stood by the car. He was glad to be in their presence, to experience their joy.
"Your family seems rather happy with one another," he said.
Abbie nodded. "They are. But all family has drama, you know?"
He took her hand. "Indeed. Do you think we'll cause a bit of drama?"
"I don't know," she said and tugged him along.
Cousins, aunts, and uncles all greeted Abbie. They draped her in fitted hugs and wet kisses. Crane received snug handshakes, pats on the back, cozy greetings, though he still captured the whispers, the raised eyebrows, the slightly opened mouths. It made his stomach slip into his throat and fingers twitch. He supposed it was from their shock. If Abbie noticed, she didn't let on. She just dragged him along to a man and a woman, who stood by a grill. They flipped burgers, hotdogs, chicken, and ribs. Then they dropped some of the food into sliver aluminum pans on a table. Abbie placed her hands on their backs to get their attention. Once they turned around, they hugged and kissed her, too.
After they let her go, she said, "Mama, dad, this is Ichabod Crane. Crane, these are my parents, Lori and Ezra Mills."
"It's nice to finally meet you, Ichabod," Lori said.
Both her parents had full lips and dark brown eyes. Their skin was a shade darker than Abbie's, but she looked just like them. They stood taller than her. Clearly, her height didn't come from either of them.
"Glad you could make it, son," Ezra said.
"I am rather pleased to meet the both of you. It is my honor to be here." He bowed for them.
"He's quite chivalrous, isn't he?" Lori said. "Such a gentleman. Why don't you ever bow for me, E?"
"Because I'd probably never get back up, woman."
"True. You're kind of an old man."
"Hey, now, I'm not so old that I can't love my wife." He kissed her.
Abbie covered her face with one of her hands, shook her head. "Mama, dad, please."
"Sorry," Ezra said. "We got carried away."
Lori kissed his cheek. "Yeah. Anyway, there's plenty of food. Help yourselves. Jenny will be here soon."
He couldn't wait to meet her sister. She said Jenny kicked ass and was a travel bug. He hoped she'd like him also.
"Don't forget to get your shirt from Grandpa Mills," Ezra said. "Oh, and Ichabod, you're more than welcome to have one, too. You take care of my daughter."
He smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Mills. I will cherish her for all the days to come. You have my word."
"I'll hold you to that, son."
"Your parents are very nice," he said.
They were the last ones in line. It was only a t-shirt, yet this simple piece of clothing chased away all the heavy nerves that glided in his belly, which was now replaced with a lightness that reminded him of dandelions. He felt a part of the family.
Abbie twined their fingers. "They're great. They like you."
"What did you tell them?"
"That you were gentle." She kissed his chin. "Attentive. Selfless. My little bookworm."
He pulled her to him. "If we were alone, I'd show you just how gentle and attentive I can be."
"I'll consider that a promise for later." She kissed his lips.
"Next," a man with gruff voice yelled.
A gray moustache covered his upper lip; a few small moles peppered his face. He was a thin man, who sat in a chair. The blue shirts were ordered by size and stretched the length of the table. They had the silhouette of a tree, with words "Mills Family Reunion 2016" above it.
"Abbie. It's great to see you." He stood, a bit slowly, to hug her before he sat back down.
"You, too, grandpapa."
"Who is this white boy?" He looked Crane up and down. His moustache wiggled.
Crane didn't like being called "white," let alone "boy." Though he knew he was white, that acknowledgement made him feel like an outsider, an alien. "Boy" just made him feel talked down to, belittled. Unwelcome. Maybe her grandfather acted this way because he was protective of his granddaughter. He could understand that and gave him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was tough to impress.
"This is Ichabod Crane, my boyfriend."
"Boyfriend, eh?"
"Yes, sir," Crane said. "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Mills."
"Where you from, boy?"
"England, sir. I was offered to work as a history professor at Sleepy Hollow University; I relocated here about eight months ago."
His eyes shifted to Abbie. "You happy with this white boy?"
"I am." She squeezed his hand.
"Hmm. Next."
"We didn't get our shirts. No one's behind us."
He peeked around them anyway. "Did everyone get a shirt?"
Crane glanced at all the relatives who heard him. They nodded or gave a thumbs-up.
"With all due respect, sir, I believe you are not being fair. You could at least give your own granddaughter a shirt."
"Get out of my line, boy. Who are you to tell me what to give to my granddaughter?"
Abbie pulled at his arm. "Come on, Crane."
"No, Abbie. This is your family reunion. You deserve a shirt. I will not leave here until you receive it."
"She isn't getting anything, white boy. Now, get the hell out of my face."
He never liked it when Abbie was denied any good or service because of him and especially because of someone's close-mindedness. That happened to them at a carnival; Abbie wanted them to ride The Twister. Only two people could fit at one time. Before they could even get on, the lady who operated it stopped them. He asked her why they weren't allowed to ride.
"You're…" She took him in from head to toe. "...tall. She's…short. Tall and short people can't be on this ride together. You have to be the same height."
He read between the lines. So did Abbie because she walked away. He wished she would've at least offered Abbie the chance to ride. She had a right to enjoy herself, even if he couldn't be included. Crane huffed in the lady's face before stalking off. They never went back to that carnival again.
She pulled him away, led them toward an empty bench in front of the playground, and sat on his lap so he wouldn't go anywhere.
"You should've gotten a shirt, Abbie. Let me up, please."
"It's both of us or neither of us, Crane."
That's what she told him as they left the carnival, when he wanted to go back to the lady and demand that she let Abbie ride at least.
"You should get what you want. I will be alright without one."
She put her hands on his checks. "What did I say?"
He sighed. "Very well."
He wondered if they should continue their relationhip. Maybe it would be easier for her without him. He didn't want Mr. Mills to be upset with her. She could've gotten a shirt and rode The Twister had it not been for him. Of course, the mistreatment wasn't their fault. Yet he couldn't help but feel responsible for how things turned out.
"What are you thinking?" Her fingers ran through his hair.
"That my white skin is a burden for you."
"What if I think my black skin holds you back? All this wouldn't have happened if I didn't bring you here or if we weren't…"
"Together."
"Yeah." She paused. "We've only been together for five months, but I know I want you to stay in my life."
"I want you, too."
"And together or not, racism won't go away, especially for me. I'm black and a woman, so I have two things to worry about. You have the upper hand in this world. You're white and a man. You have privilege because of that."
"I don't want any privilege that doesn't include you. Everyone deserves the same opportunities and treatment."
He wished he could shed his privilege like snake skin. If he is honest, he knows it's benefited him, financially and career wise. However, it excludes others who do not look like him: people who are intelligent, kind, brave, hard-workers. People like Abbie, who deserve nothing but a happy life.
"Most definitely, but this is where we are today. Bad things are happening right now. All we can do is love and change what we can little by little. Try to do some good in the world."
He agreed with her. She was changing the world a bit at a time. Abbie told him that she mentored young girls on the weekends. She used to work at the Sleepy Hollow Sheriff's Department. All kinds of kids and teenagers ended up there. One day, she just decided to reach out to them with permission from her boss. Most of them were in foster care. Since she grew up with love and support, she never knew what that was like. Abbie thought she needed to do something, especially for the girls. She explained to him that some of them were so broken. They'd been abused, raped, neglected, abandoned. One girl was even sex trafficked?. Thankfully, she found a way to escape. He was proud of her for what she was doing. Though she was a busy FBI agent now, she still made time for these girls.
"What do we do about your grandfather? Do we tell someone?" he said.
"Actually, we may not have to. There's my sister."
She pointed to a woman who walked toward them with two shirts over her shoulder. Her hair was curly and in a ponytail. She was also tall with brown skin and brown eyes.
"Ah, Miss Jenny."
Abbie stood to hug her and introduced Crane. He bowed for her, too.
"These are for you. I'm not exactly sure what your size was Ichky, but you can exchange it if it doesn't fit. It won't be a problem." She handed them their shirts and told them what happened.
Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Mills wondered why they walked away without their shirts. They asked grandpapa what happened. He told them he didn't like seeing him and Abbie together. Jenny said they gave him a nice talking-to. When she got there, they explained everything to her. In honor of her sister, she had a few words with him herself. He felt quite grateful that Abbie's family was willing to stand up for them. How would he ever repay them?
"No one is going disrespect your relationship while you're here. Just don't expect an apology from grandpapa."
"Thanks, Jenny." Abbie hugged her sister again. "Why is he so angry? I know he's from the Jim Crow era, but…"
"Because of grandmama. You know she ran off with a white man last year?"
"He was white? I knew grandmama left him. Just not for a white man."
Crane wanted to feel sympathy for Mr. Mills, but he couldn't. He was still wrong.
"It doesn't give him the right though," Jenny said.
Abbie held Crane's hand. "It doesn't."
"Thank you and your parents, Miss Jenny, for what you have done for us."
"No worries, Ichky. Now, put on your shirts and go eat. You're going to need your energy for dodgeball," she said.
Crane looked at Abbie. "Dodgeball?"
"It's one of our favorite games. We have a big annual tournament every year."
"Well, I can't wait to participate."
He put on his shirt. It felt good to have it on.
Abbie threw hers on, too. She smiled up at him. "I like this shirt on you."
"So do I. Why do you call me 'Ichky,' Miss Jenny?"
He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. However, it was much preferred than "white boy."
"If I give you a nickname, I like you. From what she's told me, you seem decent. Consider yourself special. Usually, I hate the men she brings home."
"How many has she brought home?" He glances at Abbie.
"That's another story for another day," she said.
Crane would be sure to hear this story. How many men have come before him? How many have kissed her lips and made her laugh and held her close? He didn't like these other men.
"Well, I'm elated to know you like me, Miss Jenny. I am quite fond of you, too. I hope we get to know each other more."
"Yep. Welcome to the family, Ichky." She walked off.
He couldn't do anything but smile.
Abbie stood on her tip-toes to kiss his lips. Her tongue went into his mouth. "Yes, welcome."