Chapter Eleven: Saturated

"Where there is love there is no darkness."

~Burundian proverb

(EPOV)

"18, 19, 20 … Ready or not, here I come!"

I held my breath, trying not to laugh as I hid on the top shelf in Ma and Pa's closet, shielded by cardboard boxes. The air was hot and stale and I crouched my legs closest to the corner of the wall.

I could hear Pa yell, "Gotcha!" throughout the house, only to be disappointed by an empty space.

"Where are ya, Son?" I covered my mouth and smothered my giggles as I listened to Pa walk in to search his bedroom. I peeked out of the closet, watching him look under the bed, behind the curtains, and beneath the pillows.

Finally, he looked inside the closet, moving clothes over and glancing at the floor. He backed away, scratching his head.

"It's a shame I can't find my boy. He must be a good hider!" Pa exclaimed, looking confused.

I grinned widely, my two front teeth missing. I knew I would win this game!

"Oh well," Pa sighed. "I guess I'm gonna have to go eat this big ol' turkey all by myself …"

Wait, turkey! I love turkey. I want some!

"I best get my eating shirt on. Don't want to mess this one up." Pa walked back to the closet, rummaging through the few clothes on the hangers. "Wait a second, I think I've got the one I want right … HERE!"

I screamed as Pa's big hand touched the top of my head. He laughed robustly, sliding a box out of the way and reaching his arms out for me.

I giggled. "How'd you know I was up here, Pa?"

I wrapped my arms around his neck as he set me on my feet.

"You're my flesh and blood, Lincoln. A father always finds his son. 'Sides, even if I hadn't found you I would've never stopped looking!"

"You mean that?"

Pa ruffled my head of wild, bronzed curls. "Of course. What do I always tell you? You're a Masen …"

"Through and through," I said, finishing his infamous quote.

He grinned, took me by the hand, and we snuck a piece of Ma's turkey out of the oven, even though it wasn't done yet. We played hide-and-seek several more times, but he always found me.

Always.

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The thick rope scratched against my throat and my weak fingers wrapped around the rough twine. I struggled to flex my legs to keep standing on my tiptoes, but I was so tired. Every muscle, bone, and fiber in my body hurt like hell. It was a burning feeling intermixed with bruises swelling along my abdomen. My throat gurgled as I tried to breathe what little oxygen was permissible. I felt the warm silver of Scarlett's necklace dangling and pressing against my chest. I was sweating from that day's intense heat and shaking from the merciless pain. For a mere second my head tilted to my shoulder, only to jolt me back to reality.

It would be easier to give up, to die beneath the moonlit sky. I wouldn't be in agony anymore, wouldn't have to feel the edge of my loafers slip across the muddy, wet grass. I wouldn't have to think of Ma and Pa grieving for me after I was long gone, or of Scarlett, to whom I confessed my love with my final declaration.

Maybe it would be better. Maybe they would be better.

Charles Swan was seated about ten feet away from me, sitting upright, with his gun in his lap. He'd unbuttoned his shirt collar hours ago and stared at me with a wrath I didn't deserve. I couldn't tell if he was awake or not, but it didn't matter. By morning, I'd be dead.

I watched Ma and Scarlett for hours, up high in that window. Charles would turn around ever so often to threaten them and to remind them of my impending death. From where I was I could hear their weeping and then some time earlier, they had disappeared.

I didn't blame them; I wouldn't want to watch that either.

I thought I was being courageous, telling Scarlett I loved her despite her father's disapproval. In that moment, I seemed to forget everything my own parents taught me about how evil folks were. But I learned quickly. I had become too complacent, thinking I deserved to be loved. It was this sort of foolishness that had nearly gotten me killed so many times, and now it was finally happening.

Minutes ticked by tortuously, eating away the hope I'd been storing up for so long. If Charles was insistent on breaking me, he'd succeeded. I was shattered and exhausted, tired of being me.

I regretted coming with Ma, for ever thinking I could live in the real world. There was nothing out there but death and it always had a way of finding me.

The pain coursed through my shaking legs, my calves piercing with the stabbing sensations of pinched nerves. I inhaled a sliver of the cool, night air, wondering how much longer it would be before I fell asleep. My mind turned in circles, and eventually I would drift into unconsciousness. The rope would tug on my throat and I'd gasp, knowing the inevitable was coming.

I was at peace somehow. I knew I'd die this way: by hanging, or by fire, or by a gun—all at the hands of another. I wondered if God could still hear me, out in the open like this. Maybe He had better people to save, folks that were white and dignified, folks that were worth saving.

I was a yellow Negro and I would never be anything more.

I stepped back and forth, the mud from the previous day's rain keeping me from holding my position for very long. I thought back to how many of my ancestors died this way, or if they were given a quick death. I was always the unlucky one.

My thoughts wandered to Scarlett and how her wide brown eyes were filled with fear as Charles dragged me away. I didn't want her to think this was her fault. I took responsibility for my actions. I knew the cost of loving her but I couldn't stop it. My heart overrode common sense, but it was worth it—she was worth it.

She always said exactly what she thought, and that's what I loved about her. She was an open book, filled with truths I didn't always want to hear, but needed to. But deep down, I thought—or hoped—she loved me back. That maybe she'd like me as more than a friend and we'd live happily ever after like the fairy tales we read.

Or maybe the pages ended sooner than I wished.

I choked, the rope getting too heavy to hold. I gasped for air, gagging as pain shot through my spine. My eyes welled up with tears and perhaps I was weak for going out like this—with tears streaming down my face—but I couldn't help it. I cried for Ma and Pa and how'd I miss them. I cried for Scarlett, knowing I'd never really get the chance to hold her again. I cried for Alice, the first real friend I'd ever known.

I cried for myself.

I cried for being yellow and for thinking I'd ever survive. I cried for my stupidity, and I hoped somewhere out there, there was a yellow boy just like me, hiding in his Ma's kitchen.

I hoped he stayed there and never left. I hoped he hid and never peeked out. I hoped he didn't climb in the back of an old Chevy or fall in love with a white girl who had a racist, unforgiving, bigoted father.

Because this—hanging from a tree with my fingers slipping—wasn't a pleasant way to die.

No one should have to endure this, not even a Negro like me.

So I let go.

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Death was like floating towards the moon, being lifted up high, waiting to see God's face. I hoped He recognized me right away. I hoped He'd be proud of me for trying to hold on as long as I did.

I was waiting for the angels to appear, to sing my name in a heavenly chorus. They sang it all right, but it was more of a whisper. And they didn't call me Edward. Just Lincoln. Over and over.

"Lincoln."

"Lincoln."

"Son!"

My eyes blinked slowly, and I swear God looked just like my Pa. He cradled me in his arms, the rope no longer around my neck. I wondered why it was so dark in Heaven. I thought it would be prettier than that, with trumpets and light and streets made of gold.

God had strong arms, just like Pa, and He even sweated like him too. He wasn't majestic like I thought, but he ran, holding me closely to his chest.

"Hold on, Lincoln. They're at the truck. We're almost there."

My eyes fluttered shut again. God didn't make any sense. I was waiting on them angels, with wings as wide as an open field. Seconds, maybe minutes passed by, and God hoisted me in the back of truck, my sore back hitting the metal floor.

"Oh God! My baby …" I finally heard an angel and she was crying. I wished she wasn't. God was there and we'd be all right. The angel held me closely and though I didn't feel her wings, she reminded me of Ma.

"I'm so sorry, Lincoln. I'm so, so sorry!" There it was! That was the angel I was waiting for. She sang apologies like a lullaby, but I didn't want her apologizing. Hearing that voice reminded me I was in heaven. She kissed me everywhere; my forehead, cheek, and nose. She rubbed my head and cradled me closely, brushing her lips across my damp skin.

Heaven was nice, but it was mighty loud, rumbling through the darkness. An unfamiliar hand held mine, patting it gently. My necklace slid to the side and the hand lingered over it, putting it back into my shirt. "Sorry we couldn't get you out sooner, Mister Lincoln. Had to wait for Mister Charles to go to sleep. Took me forever and a day to unjam that door."

Heaven was confusing, talking about folks I never wanted hear about ever again. So I just breathed the fresh air, enjoying the small fingers that strummed along my scalp. This angel was the kindest of them all, sweet and gentle, and she loved me.

I know, 'cause she whispered it to me over and over again.

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Maybe God wasn't ready for me yet. Maybe I had just a little bit more living to do.

I realized it when I woke up on a jumbled bed with bandages and ice on various parts of my body. I ached horribly, a throbbing pain like I'd never felt before. I was in different clothes and my blood stained ones were gone.

"Lincoln, it's me. Can you see me? Can you hear me? Carlisle! He's awake! Carlisle!" Ma yelled in my ear and I winced.

"Ma, I'm not deaf." Talking just made my throat hurt worse and I coughed, lurching forward and then back on the bed.

"No, you're not, baby. You sure aren't." She was back to weeping again and I glanced around at the empty room, ignoring her tears. I couldn't handle it right now. I had enough of my own.

Pa entered, carrying a compress, and placed it over my head. The coldness stung, but felt good on my warm skin. "How's it feel coming back from the dead?"

"Like shit," I moaned.

"I don't know how you even—" Pa shook his head, disappointed. "What were you thinking, Son?"

"Carlisle, not now!" Ma shooed him away, her blonde hair swinging across her shoulder. "He's in pain and well aware of what he did and the repercussions. He doesn't need you fussin' and carryin' on. What's done is done. Go get Scarlett in here before one of them has a heart attack."

Pa sighed and kissed me on my forehead. "We'll talk later."

That's what I was afraid of. But I didn't worry about that now. Scarlett! She's in my house?

"She's here?" I asked timidly.

Ma smiled weakly. "For the last few hours. Pacing the floor, back and forth. I had to send her in the living room and let you rest. Jenks is here too. He's the one that got us out of that room. He saved your life, Lincoln."

I nodded, grateful for a stranger's kindness. "I'll tell him thank you."

"You do that." Ma patted my shoulder, adjusted the blankets around me, and turned to look at me before she left. "Lincoln? No matter what your Pa says, I'm proud of you. He's not angry because of what you did. He's angry because you're exactly like him. That's what scares him the most; that you'd sacrifice your own life for love."

"Yeah," I said sorrowfully. "Except it's different when they don't love you back."

"You'd be surprised," she said with a wink. She left and I saw a flowered dress appear behind her. Scarlett stood at the doorway, folding her hands nervously, her ribbon haphazardly hanging down her hair.

"Hi," she said, waving just the slightest bit.

"Hey." She looked so small and vulnerable, not like the loud, boastful girl I always knew. It was weird seeing her in my home, like she didn't fit in. The problem was, she looked like she shouldn't be in any other place. "You gonna come over here or are you gonna make me get up?"

Scarlett nodded but it seemed like it took all of her strength just to do so. I groaned, moving over while she crossed the room and sat beside me. She looked like she was frightened to even touch me, but not like before; more like she thought I would break. She had to know I wasn't capable of breaking. Not anymore—not with her beside me.

"Don't look so sad," I said cheerfully. "I think some of these bruises are an improvement. Gives me character, don't ya think?"

Scarlett looked at me for three seconds, her bottom lip trembling before she crushed me in a hug. "Oh Lincoln! I'm s-s-so sorry! I c-c-couldn't stop him … and t-then he had that gun … and M-Mother wouldn't come out of her r-room …"

"Shhh," It hurt like a dickens, wrapping my arms around her, but I did it anyways. I hated seeing her like this, blaming herself for her father's actions. Her hair fell over my face and I brushed it away with my fingers, kissing the small space on her neck. "Won't your fault, Scarlett. It was my decision. Nobody could keep me away from you, not even your father. I love you, don't you know that?"

She sniffled, sitting up and wiping her tears with the side of her hand. "I don't deserve you. After all I've done … and then watching you out there like that. I c-can't-"

I gripped her hands tightly in mine. "Now you listen here, Scarlett Swan. There will be no pity party in here. I'm breathing, you're with me, and that's all that matters. Fuck everything and everybody else."

Scarlett's eyes widened at my language and she repeated after me slowly. "Fuck it?"

I laughed out loud at her innocence. "That's right. Fuck it. I've got my girl here and the only thing that's going to make me feel better is a cigarette—which I plan on getting later—and my girl lying next to me."

She smiled, snuggling next to me and I turned to the side, spooning her and kissing the nape of her neck. Every muscle revolted against the movement, but I ignored it. I needed her more than anything in this world and I was beginning to think she needed me too.

"Lincoln?"

"Yeah, Scarlett?"

"I love you."

My heart clamored and tightened in my chest. I pulled her closer to me and for once, we weren't black or white or anything in between.

We were just us.

Lincoln and Scarlett.

"I love you, too."

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I didn't know how much more of this wretched day I could take, but we hadn't slept any more than a few hours when there was a loud bang at the door. The pounding kept up and Ma rushed into the room, panicking and shaking us both.

"Lincoln! Scarlett!" she half-whispered, but somehow still yelled, "Wake up! You've got to hide! It's the police!"

I glanced at the clock and it was sometime after noon.

"Lincoln! Now!" I jerked up, despite the pain, jumping out of bed. I grabbed Scarlett's hand, pulling her with me.

"Oh no, it's Father! He came looking for me!" she half-cried, glancing around in panic.

"Shh! Lincoln! Go! Take her with you!"

I nodded, half-stumbling out of Ma's bedroom and down the hall. I approached the doorway of the bathroom and peeled back the molding that led to the inner parts of our home. It was a tight space and I didn't know how I managed to fit in there all these years. I tugged Scarlett with me, and she squeezed through, our bodies pressed tightly together. Ma rushed after us, fitting the molding back into place, and ran down the hall.

I could hear Pa's voice and those of several officers.

"I got a report from Mr. Charles Swan that you're holding an illegal yellowed and his daughter. We've got a right to search the premises."

I didn't hear anything from Jenks and I wondered if he was still there. Scarlett breathed heavily beside me and I wrapped my arm around her waist, my skin scrapping the old wood. "Don't breathe."

I didn't mean it literally but I think she understood, because she exhaled smaller breaths. The air blew across my shoulder and neck as she shook nervously around me.

"You can search all you want. Ain't got nothing or nobody of the sort around here." Pa's voice boomed loudly and noisy footsteps trampled nearby.

"Ma'am, you want to tell me what you're doing married to a Negro? You understand that's against the law, don't you?"

"There's no law against dating, officer, and as you can see, I've got no such ring on my hand. So unless you want to arrest me for being open-minded, I'd say I've got the right to love who I please."

"Esme!" Pa hissed at Ma and she finally became quiet. Loud noises banged around us; doors opened and closed, cabinets were swung open, and a mattress was lifted up and then fell down again.

Scarlett was still shaking and in the quietest voice I could muster, I whispered against her lips, breathing her in. "You're safe. Just stay focused on me."

She nodded but her body trembled against me frantically. I could feel goosebumps rising along the soft skin of her arm. She needed my comfort, needed to know I could protect her. I was used to defending myself but she wasn't. It hurt my soul to see her so scared. No, it killed me. It was worse than anything that could ever be done to me, any rope that was strung around my neck. She was strong in many ways, but fragile too. But she was special to me, the only precious thing I could ever truly call mine. So I did the only thing I could to calm her down.

I kissed her.

I pressed my lips against hers, firmly, but in the softest, gentlest way possible. I held them there briefly before our lips moved slowly in perfect sync. I exhaled through my nose, not wanting to interrupt our private moment. My lips were chapped and every bone ached, but I didn't care. All I could focus on was the liquid warmth that spread though my body, rushing to every inch of me. It was all saturated with love and pain and adoration and agony. We lingered there, body against body, lips against lips, broken soul against broken soul.

I finally had to pull away, but only to inhale her breath. "You're okay. We're going to be all right."

I felt her nod against me as I held her there, waiting for the police to stop destroying our house. I didn't know if it was five minutes or twenty, but Ma finally tapped against the wall, alerting us it was safe. She pulled at the molding and Scarlett stepped out first, her dress getting caught on a splinter. She tugged on it hard, with me following behind her.

We walked into the kitchen, where Jenks was sitting at the table. Pa was seated next to him, rubbing his own forehead stressfully. Ma pulled out a chair, which I collapsed into immediately. We sat there quietly, each one thinking his and her own thoughts, but Scarlett finally spoke up.

"What are we going to do?"

"You've got to go home, Miss Scarlett. Mr. Charles will keep searching and if he finds you here …" Jenks trailed off, and we all finished his sentence in our own way.

"I can't," she sobbed. "Father will be so angry. He'll lock me away! And Mother's too much of a damn coward to actually do anything!"

"Scarlett." I held out my weak arm, prompting her to come to me. She walked over slowly, crying, and I pulled her into my lap. "It's going to be all right. You go home with Jenks, make up some lie, and you continue about as normal. Your Father won't find me. I'm a master of hiding in my own house. It's when I left that I made a mistake."

"What about us?" she sniffled.

"You two can't continue," Pa responded firmly. "Next time he catches you, Son, I may not get there in time."

I knew he was right. The marks on my throat knew it and my fragile muscles knew it too. But there was no way I could abandon Scarlett. Not after this, not ever. I squeezed her hand, letting her know that some way, I would figure something out.

"I'll drive you two back," Ma offered. "It'll have to be at the end of the road though. There's no way I'm stepping foot back into that neighborhood."

She sighed, and I suddenly realized Ma was out of a job again and it was my fault.

"Ma, can we have a little time together? Please?" I begged though I had no right to, but if that was the last time I'd be seeing Scarlett for a while, I wanted to make the moment last.

"Go on," Pa answered for her. I glanced at him in shock and he nodded. Maybe he understood more than I thought.

Scarlett stood up and I wobbled to my feet, grabbing the table for support. She wrapped her arm around my waist and supported me as we walked down the hall to my parent's bedroom. I shut the door behind us and we paced slowly towards the bed. I lay down first, with her positioning herself until she placed her head on the pillow.

I breathed into her hair, stroking the fine strands along her forehead, wishing I could give her a world much different than the one we lived in.

"I'll find a way back to you," I whispered into her ear softly. "I promise."

She pulled my hand away, bringing it down and wrapping it around her waist. Our fingers intertwined, yellow against white, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

She breathed softly and I kissed the side of her neck, drawing her closer to me until we were practically one. My lips lingered at her collarbone, relishing her soft skin. She moaned, half-sleepily, and my mind went places it should have never went. But I couldn't focus on that at the moment.

So I lay there, soaking in love and devotion, desperate for a day when we would no longer need to hide or pretend like we weren't doing anything wrong.

And it hurt, knowing that day may never come.