Chapter Five: Conflicted

"She starched and ironed her face, forming it into just what people wanted to see..."

~ Zora Neale Hurston

(IPOV)

"Father!"

"My beautiful Scarlett!" Charles Swan, my tall, mustached father, lifted me into the air and swung me in a circle. I hope he can't smell Lincoln's cigarette smoke on me. His perfectly gelled hair was combed over to the side and he wore one of his many business suits. He was a prominent, powerful man who owned factories that made him extremely wealthy, but I was the apple of his eye. Father always bought me gifts and today was no exception.

"Charles." Father kissed Mother on both cheeks, as formal as always. I'd never seen them show much affection to each other, but that's just how they were. They loved each other, of course. After all, they were married. Anything else was their business.

I eyed the large, blue box with a white ribbon on the floor next to his briefcase. "What did you get me?"

"Only the best," he winked and I squealed, picking up the box with glee. I walked into the living room and placed the box down on the white sofa, unraveling the ribbon in a hurry. I lifted the lid, tossed the wrapping paper behind me in a whirl, and gasped.

I pulled out my newest possession: a long, gray mink coat. The material felt soft beneath my fingers and I tried it on immediately, the expensive price tag still dangling from the sleeve.

"Oh it's gorgeous, Father," I gushed. "Thank you!"

I spun in circles as Mother raised an eyebrow. "It's a little warm down here for her to be wearing fur, don't you think?"

"Mother, you don't know anything about style," I reprimanded her. "It's the latest fashion. Don't be jealous."

Mother muttered under her breath, "You spoil her, Charles."

"And rightfully so," Father grinned. "Anything for my little girl."

I smiled victoriously and shouted for the butler. "Jenks!"

Jenks appeared from another room, his white-gloved hands folded.

"Place this in my closet and hang it up properly," I ordered him, shrugging out of the coat. "And keep your gloves on. I don't want your filthy paws touching my things."

"Yes, Miss Scarlett." Jenks carefully carried the coat upstairs, walking dramatically slow so that it didn't touch the floor.

Mother raised an eyebrow at my language, but Father didn't bat an eye. I'd seen him treat the colored help much worse.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Mother clapped her hands together. "I hired a new housekeeper yesterday! She is absolutely wonderful! Wait until you meet her!"

"Is she here?" Father asked, glancing around.

"No," Mother answered. "She's only working from 7 to 4 on weekdays."

Crap. I didn't know Esme's hours. That meant I wouldn't get to see Lincoln on the weekends. It was only Tuesday, which meant he could only come over three more times this week. Not that it mattered, but still. I would never admit I enjoyed his company so much. He was a funny creature, much different than I expected, but in a good way. He certainly held his ground, especially for someone who had no contact with the outside world.

"But wait until you hear this," Mother continued with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. "She's white, Charles! As pale as an onion on a May Monday morning."

"What's a white woman doing working?" Father asked suspiciously. "Doesn't she have a husband?"

"Her name is Esme and yes, she does. But, I suppose they need the extra money. Not everyone can be rich like you darling."

"I suppose not," Father replied with a chuckle. "Very well then. As long as you're happy, then I'm happy."

"I am. Her raspberry tart is to die for!" Mother licked her lips just thinking about the dessert sitting in the fridge.

"I have good news as well," Father added. "My brother James is coming over next week to visit the factories with me. He's bringing the whole family from Meadow Hills."

I grumbled under my breath. "The whole family" meant my uncle would bring his prissy wife, Victoria, and their three children. Alice, who was 17, I didn't mind at all, as we were always happy to see one another. But Jasper, who was 15, and Jessica, who was nine, were a pain in my ass. Jasper was a prankster who failed to see why his jokes weren't funny and Jessica was a busybody.

I got the sinking feeling that since they would be arriving, my time with Lincoln would decrease significantly. Unless there was a way I could work around it. I would figure something out.

"Wonderful. Now that we're in Alabama, we'll be seeing a lot more of each other," Mother smiled happily. "It was so lonely in Virginia."

For you, I thought wryly. Maybe one day I could convince Father to allow Angela to come down and see me. It was his fault I had no friends in Birmingham.

Well, not quite. Lincoln wasn't a friend, but he wasn't not a friend either. I didn't know how to label him yet. It was a blurry line. He wasn't what I thought a colored person would be like. He was much more laid back and if I tried to boss him around like Jenks, he wasn't having any of it.

It was cool in a way.

Oh, and he smoked.

That was definitely cool.

.

.

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"Scarlett! Are you ready?"

"Coming Mother!" I yelled from the top of the stairs. Jenks stumbled slowly in front of me, carrying a load of boxes.

"Hurry up, maggot!" I blew underneath my breath, pushing him slightly to the side and flying down the stairs.

Since we moved, there were a lot of clothing and household items Mother didn't want anymore. She said she was donating them to the local store in town where they sold them for cheap. I would never buy a second-hand used item, but Mother said it looked good for our family to donate to the unfortunate. I think it was just so she had an excuse to go shopping for new stuff.

Mother and I sat in the car while Jenks loaded the trunk and backseat. Once he was finished, he shut the door and Mother drove off.

"Is he not coming to help?" I asked her, buckling my seatbelt.

"For goodness sakes, Scarlett," she chastised me, steering the wheel to the right. "You can lift a box. It won't kill you."

I begged to disagree.

We lived in a gated community, but the iron gates were never really closed. I think they just kept it up for appearances. The further we drove into the city, however, the shabbier and filthier the buildings became. Negros walked along one side of the street and the whites walked along the other. There were "Whites Only" signs plastered in store windows, and many coloreds waited at bus stops in crowds.

"Mother, why do so many of them ride the buses?" I asked, staring in awe. "Where are their cars?"

"They're poor, dear. Most can't afford such luxuries."

"Why don't they work like Father? Are they that lazy?" I couldn't figure out why they wanted to ride some dirty, overcrowded bus instead of working to buy a vehicle.

"They do work, Scarlett. But they don't get paid enough."

I couldn't stop asking questions. Now that I had met Lincoln, I wanted to know everything about him and his kind. "Why don't they just get a better paying job?"

Mother sighed as we came to a halt at a stop light. "It doesn't work like that. Blacks can't own businesses, therefore they are owned by whites like us. To keep businesses booming and their profits high, they pay very little to their workers, which are usually the coloreds. They will work for next to nothing because they need to. Most of the children don't even attend school. They have to work to support their families."

Well that was just so … so …

Unfair?

No, not unfair. I was absolutely sure no Negro would be able to manage a business, even if he was given one. He'd probably steal left and right. So I understood it completely. But what about people like Lincoln? He was black, sort of. I couldn't imagine he would steal anything. He seemed honest, or at least I thought he did.

Mother started driving again and I peered out of the window. "What if they were mixed? What then?"

"You mean if they were biracial?" Mother questioned. "They're still considered colored to most people, honey. You remember Ms. Betty, your old nanny when you were just a tot? She was biracial."

"Really?" Ms. Betty was a sweet older woman, but I didn't know that about her.

"Sure was. It wasn't so bad in Virginia, but in these deep southern states, it's illegal. I don't know how they manage to keep up with who's birthing who and what color. Too much fuss if you ask me."

I nodded, but I kept thinking about Ms. Betty. She was much darker than Lincoln, with a caramel complexion. I would have never known she was a skunk.

Skunk. I don't know why, but even saying the word in my head made me feel conflicted. Not wrong, but just … uneasy. I remembered how Lincoln's expression changed when I called him that. It wasn't a mean term, I was just describing him, but I don't think he liked it.

"We're here." Mother interrupted my thoughts as she parked in front of a crumbling, brick building with streaked windows and signs posted for sales.

We were definitely on the colored side of town and as I climbed out of the front seat and shut the door, we received curious looks from those around us. Mother began unloading boxes and handed me two. After she had an armful, I followed behind her as she walked through the open front door. There was no air conditioning, just fans circulating hot air around us.

A colored woman, clothed in a blue dress with short, black hair, greeted us from behind the counter. "Welcome to the Olden Golden Thrift Shop. Let me take that from you."

She approached Mother and lifted the heavy boxes with ease, setting them on the floor. Next, she removed my load and when her skin brushed against mine, I flinched.

"What are y'all donating today?" she asked warmly.

"There's some clothing and small vases and lamps. I have a few picture frames in the trunk as well," Mother responded.

"I'll be happy to get those for you. I'm Nessie, by the way. Pleasure to meet you." She extended her hand and I watched in shock as Mother shook it.

I took a step backwards and folded mine so she wouldn't try the same with me. I didn't want to touch her. I didn't know what diseases she had.

"I'm Renee. It's nice to meet you as well. Do you mind if I look around?"

"Not at all." Nessie left as Mother circled the shop looking at various pieces of furniture.

"Mother," I hissed under my breath. "I thought you said blacks couldn't own businesses?"

"For goodness sakes, Scarlett. They don't. Even the small shops are owned by white men. Sometimes they'll come in to manage, other times they don't. You sure are asking a lot of questions today."

Technically I had one more, like why did she shake that woman's hand, but I decided I'd bothered her enough for one evening. I walked up and down the crowded aisles, glancing at this and that until I arrived the counter with jewelry locked behind a clear case. The trinkets were old and probably not real gold or silver, but they looked interesting at least. I bent down, admiring the pretty rings when I saw a sparkle that caught my eye.

"See something you like?"

I jumped at the startling voice and saw Nessie behind me. "Um, yeah. Can I look at the necklace on the second row?"

Navigating around the counter, she pulled out her keys and unlocked the glass case. "This?"

The open velvet box was not pristine black and had pieces of lint all over it. However, the necklace inside was long with a skunk pendant on the end. One side was completely flat, but the front was intricately carved and detailed the animal exactly.

"This was donated by an older fellow a few years back," Nessie explained. "It's in very good condition and it's actually made of silver. It was a gift from his wife and after she passed, he couldn't bear to hold on to it any longer. The tall tales say that the skunk is actually a spirit animal that represents protection. You see, the skunk is not an aggressive animal. It's very passive, but to protect itself, it sprays. Which, if you've ever smelled one, you know how awful it is!"

Nessie laughed and I touched the etched lines. "Protection from what?"

"Protection from anything. Predators usually stray away because they know what the skunk is capable of. It avoids conflict, but it has a courage that only shows itself when needed."

I assessed the trinket once more. "I wish it were in color."

Nessie shook her head. "I'm glad it's not. Do you see how you're admiring the details? You wouldn't be able to see the beauty in it if all you saw was black and white."

"Scarlett? Are you ready to go?" Mother appeared beside me and I gestured to the jewelry.

"Can I get this?"

"Sure honey." Mother patted her side, realizing her purse was in the car. "I'm sorry, I forgot my wallet outside."

"Don't worry about it," Nessie smiled. "It's yours to keep."

"No really, I can't do that," Mother protested. "Let me pay you."

"You donated some beautiful items that will surely sell. It's been sitting here awhile anyways. It's yours."

Nessie pushed the box to my side and I held it gently in my hands. "Thank you."

"No problem. Y'all have a wonderful day."

We said our goodbyes and I wondered if Lincoln would like the present I got for him.

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.

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"A skunk? You bought me a skunk."

Lincoln appeared less than enthusiastic about my gift the following Wednesday morning. We were sprawled out in the tree house and I had remembered to bring snacks and drinks. Sipping on a juice box, I watched as he dangled the necklace in front of him, frowning.

"No, it's not like that," I argued, frustrated by his reaction. "The saleslady said it meant protection and passiveness and courage."

"So you think I'm passive?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I think you're stronger than you look," I replied, and that seemed to appease him.

"Okay, well, thank you—I think."

"You're welcome." I took the necklace from him and tried to place it over his head, but my fingers barely brushed against the fine hairs when I jerked back and let the necklace fall the remainder of the way.

"You're so odd," he commented, shaking his head. Lincoln tucked the necklace inside his shirt and the outline pressed somewhere near his heart.

"Odd? How so?"

"You've made it very clear you dislike blacks, yet here you are buying me jewelry and hiding me out in your secret treehouse. But the second you get near me, you scoot away like I'll hurt you."

"I don't think you'll hurt me. You're passive, remember?" I jested.

"You know what I mean, Scarlett."

I shrugged and his green eyes watched me prudently. "I just don't want to get dirty."

"I'm not dirty. I do shower you know."

I sighed, not wanting to have the conversation. "I don't know, okay? I just don't want your kind touching me, that's all. I might get germs on me and then get sick or something."

Lincoln scoffed at the term "your kind," but it didn't deter him in the slightest. "I'm the same as you. Go on, touch me."

I shook my head. "No."

"Touch me."

"No."

"Fine. I'll touch you then." Before I could jump away, Lincoln's hand was on my forearm. His hand was cool, despite the heat outside, and smooth. Faint green veins ran from his wrist up to his knuckles and his fingers were long and thin.

I started to tremble and Lincoln removed his hand. "See? You're not sick and you aren't dying. Nothing. Happened."

He was wrong. Something did happen. I felt the blood rush to my heart and the tumble in my stomach. I felt weird and tingly, and I wondered for the slightest bit of a fraction of a second—for a teeny, tiny moment—what it would feel like with his hand wrapped around my hand.

That's what made me ill. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Lincoln and I could never, ever, ever be more than the sort-of friends who met at the top of an old oak tree in the middle of the woods. Never.

That thought hurt more than it should have.

Tears slipped from my eyes and I felt vulnerable. Lincoln, not understanding my emotions, reached out for me and it made me cry even harder. I didn't want him to see me like this.

Crying over a Negro.

If Father could see me now, he'd be disgusted.

"Scarlett, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." He drew back his hand, looking aghast and sympathetic as I hiccupped and carried on.

I stood halfway on my feet, crouching as I tried to navigate around him. Placing my shaking feet on the first step of ladder, I wiped my face with one free hand. "I'll be back."

I didn't say anything else as I ran through the woods, my dress flying behind me. I ran and ran and ran. I don't remember how I got to the house so fast, or how I nearly knocked over Esme on my way upstairs. I don't recall slamming the bathroom door or how I peeled off my clothes so quickly. I don't know if the water burned or if it wasn't hot enough.

But I do know the amount of soap I used and the strength with which I scrubbed my entire body didn't make me feel any better.