Cherry said to tell y'all she's sorry for not having this chapter back yesterday. She tried to win her way back into my good graces with cupcakes. Screw that. Half the icing was gone, lover girl.

On another note, have you ever seen The Green Mile with Michael Clarke Duncan (RIP)? That's who we imagine Carlisle to be! (thx Cherry)

Cinny is emailing me illegal documents which may or may not contain questionable events. Just thought you should know.

Happy Sunday y'all!

Chapter Eighteen: Decisions

"When I discover who I am, I'll be free."

Ralph Ellison

(IPOV)

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Alice swatted me against my upper arm and threw out a jack card against my number three, taking the set in her victory. I was still reeling from Lincoln leaving the room without even so much as a goodbye, knowing he'd be gone by morning.

"Shut up, Alice!" I reprimanded her. "It's not fair for Lincoln to make me choose to be unhappy with my parents so I can be happy with him."

Alice rolled her eyes, dishing out another card. "You're missing the point. Lincoln isn't making you choose unhappiness. He's asking that you at least consider making up with your parents so you two can move forward."

"Shocking," I muttered. "Of course that's what he wants. Lincoln lives in this little bubble, Al. He doesn't understand people; he thinks they'll all change if they get to know him. They won't, especially Mother and Father."

"Isn't that what you should be grateful for? A boy with a good heart like his? He has the right to think how he does. Look at how far you've come. Not so long ago you were calling him your little Negro boy. Now you can't spend a minute apart from him. I think in his mind, if love could change someone like you, imagine how much it could impact Uncle Charles and Aunt Renee."

I contemplated Alice's words, trying to understand Lincoln's point of view. Maybe love did change me, but Father had no reason to want to change. Degrading coloreds fed both Father's ego and his wallet. He enjoyed berating them and making them work for next to nothing. And Mother was neutral; she didn't exactly hate Lincoln, but she would never do anything to disrespect Father. And that left me with nowhere to fit in.

I finally felt like Lincoln—I had nowhere to belong and my cousin's house was my hiding place.

My heart thumped heavily in my chest and a lump was stuck in my throat. "What do I do, Alice?"

Alice shrugged, throwing out an ace. "You do what Lincoln's been doing his whole life. You forgive."

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I didn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned, eventually falling into a restless slumber. I thought I heard Alice's door creak open sometime in the wee hours of the morning, but when I turned over, no one was there. Lincoln left without saying goodbye, and it hurt knowing he was still mad at me. By morning, I'd made up my mind that perhaps it was time to go home. I had to face Father eventually, I just wasn't so sure what I'd say. Alice and I took turns showering and I put on a simple light green shift dress, adorning my hair with a matching ribbon. Alice and I raced down the stairs, with Jessica and Jasper chasing after us.

"Hey there! Good morning!" Uncle James greeted us, turning to the side before we could knock over his mug of steaming coffee. We all walked to the kitchen table, sitting down for Aunt Victoria's breakfast of eggs, sausage, hot buttery biscuits, and fresh fruit.

Jasper and Jessica fought over the biggest biscuit and Aunt Victoria finally sat in her seat at the end of the table, sipping on orange juice. "What are everyone's plans today?"

"Well," I began slowly. "I'm very thankful that you've let me stay here for a while. But I think I might want to go home today."

"Aw, shucks!" Jessica grumbled with her mouth full.

"What changed your mind?" Uncle James asked with a sly grin. He was acting weird, like adults do when they're hiding something. Knowing him I didn't even want to know nor did I care.

"Go on," Alice prodded, taking a bite of her sausage. "Tell my parents about all of the wisdom I bestowed upon you in your time of need."

I kicked her under the table, causing her to cry out. "No reason. I just figured I eventually need to talk to Father. I hate that we're not speaking."

"Good for you," Aunt Victoria stated. "Unfortunately, I need to mail all of these letters everyone has written and run a few errands. James?"

"Of course I'll drive you," my uncle grinned. "Anything for my favorite niece."

"Your only niece," I reminded him and he laughed, his coffee sloshing back and forth in his mug, but he didn't spill a single drop.

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Aunt Victoria made Jasper stay behind to look after Jessica, but Alice tagged along with my uncle and I. We drove the long way back to Birmingham and my stomach felt like it was tangled in knots. I didn't know what I was more scared of—meeting with Father or actually trying to convince him that Lincoln and I were meant to be together. I wanted to tell him he wasn't going to keep us apart, and that was one of the stipulations of me coming home for good. I had a lot of nerve trying to push an ultimatum on my parents, but at the moment it was all I could come up with. Alice tried to keep me occupied, singing my favorite songs off key, but I didn't say a word until Uncle James drove into my gated community.

It seemed surreal, like I had lived another life since the protest, but our side of town was untouched. The magnificent homes were still standing, the lawns still freshly mowed. It was only me that had changed and it was like the Alabama air knew it too. Uncle James parked in our driveway, but I was too anxious to even notice Father's vehicle wasn't there.

"You want me to walk in with you?" Uncle James asked softly.

I shook my head. "No, I better do this alone."

"All right. But I'll stay parked here, just in case," he suggested.

I unlocked the door from the back, dragging my luggage across the seat. I heaved it through the opening and slammed the car door behind me. Sighing, I made the walk across the pavement and up the sidewalk leading to our front door. I twisted the doorknob, but it was locked. Knocking lightly, I shifted my feet side to side and waited for one of my parents to open it.

It was Mother who answered and she gasped, covering her mouth as her eyes welling up in tears. "My darling Scarlett! You're home!"

I dropped my suitcase to the floor with a thud. She wrapped me in a hug, which I timidly returned, patting her back softly. "Mother."

"Come on in dear! Don't just stand out there! You'll get flustered and tan that beautiful fair skin of yours."

"We wouldn't want that, now would we?" I replied sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant, Scarlett," Mother sighed.

"Where's Father?" I asked, glancing around from the doorway.

Mother shrugged. "Who knows? He said he was going to clean his shoes or something."

"Shoes?" I frowned.

"I don't know, honey. Please come in. You're letting all the heat inside the house."

I took one step forward when the color drained from my face. My father's quote lingered in my head, creating a sense of fear and dread.

"Scarlett, there's no such thing as Negro friends. You're either white or the shit beneath my shoes. You can't be both."

"Mother, does Father know the Masens are back in town?"

Mother appeared puzzled and pushed together her perfectly arched eyebrows. "Doesn't everyone? Today's the day stores opens back up —businesses, restaurants—everything. They finally cleaned up the streets and repaired the broken windows. If you ask me, it took way too long! I've been needing to—"

I didn't let her finish. I raced from my house, running back to Uncle James' car. My feet felt like lead, as if I could never run fast enough. Mother screamed my name and I jerked the car door open, leaping inside.

"Scarlett, what's wrong?" Uncle James questioned.

"It's Father," I rushed out. "He's not home and Lincoln's in danger! I just know it! You have to hurry!"

Uncle James peeled out of the driveway backwards, his tires screeching and creating a cloud of gray smoke. "Which way?"

I was so frazzled I couldn't think straight. I'd only been to Lincoln's house once, and that was in the middle of the night after Father attempted to kill him. My knees bounced and I clutched onto Alice's seat in front of me.

"Left," I pointed at the intersection. "No right! Go right!"

"It's going to be okay," Alice said, attempting to soothe me. "Maybe you're worried over nothing."

"You don't know Father," I answered miserably. "Locking up Jenks wasn't enough. If he thinks Carlisle and Esme helped him, he'll go after them too. When he discovers Lincoln is still in town, he'll kill him!"

I yelled at my uncle to make a turn at the narrow dirt road. He did as I directed and we drove in a blur past farmhouses and the open fields. I could see Lincoln's small house in the distance and gasped at the array of vehicles parked in their yard and driveway.

Uncle James pushed down the gas pedal, pressing the car to go as fast as it could. He came to a rapid stop on the grass, causing us all to lurch forward. I jumped out of the car first, not even waiting for him to remove his keys. There were people of all colors in Lincoln's yard, whites with fire torches and blacks holding baseball bats. Not a single policeman was there and Father was standing on the porch with a pistol in his hand, holding it to Esme's temple.

Carlisle and Lincoln were nowhere to be found.

I pushed through the divided crowd as Father yelled, holding a crying Esme against his front. "…and that's why Negro lovers must be destroyed! They are poisoning this very freedom our forefathers fought so hard to defend!"

"Father!" I screamed. "Stop it! Let her go!"

Father seemed surprised to see me but quickly regained his composure. "Go home, Scarlett. Let us adults deal with this!"

Uncle James and Alice appeared behind me, aghast by Father's behavior. "Brother, I'm warning you. You're causing a scene. Let her be and tell these folks to leave before someone gets killed."

"Then my purpose will be accomplished here! You think I'm a fool? I know that Negro boy wasn't Jenks' son. But I've got me a colored locked up and that's one less ignorant fool off the streets!" Father laughed maliciously and it was like I could feel the evil flowing off of him in waves. It rose through the crowds, each person devouring his wickedness and spreading it to the person beside them.

"Kill the Negro lover! Kill the Negro lover!" the whites chanted, taking Father's side.

The blacks yelled for black power and I knew then that this was never going to stop. Each side had their own agenda, each fighting for what they thought was right. They were all wrong. Hate would rip them apart, limb by limb, until no one was left.

Racism was like that—it tore through people's hearts, shredding their humanity until we all became nothing but lifeless souls.

I watched in horror as a thin black man took advantage of Father's distraction and plowed right into Esme and Father. He knocked them to the ground and Esme stood to her feet and ran, making a dash right into Uncle James' arms. The man wrangled with Father and won, grabbing the gun in a flash. He hovered over Father, pointing the pistol to the back of his head.

I screamed again, so loudly my own ears pierced in agony from the sound. I closed my eyes, unable to watch the events unfolding around me.

"Don't."

A calm, quiet voice came like a whisper in the wind and the surrounding gasps made me open my eyes. Standing behind the man with a gun and Father was Lincoln.

The black man tilted his head. "Man, you're one of us. Don't you want to see this white cracker dead?"

Lincoln shook his head. "I don't want to see anyone dead, not even the man who tried to kill me. I want to see peace."

"Peace?" Someone yelled from the mob and I wasn't even sure which side it came from. "There'll never be peace in Birmingham!"

"And why's that?" Lincoln questioned boldly. "Because you said so? Or because you won't allow it? This here is exactly what's wrong with our nation!"

Lincoln stepped forward, pointing at the angry whites. "You! You are the reason why a black man can't even raise his family. Doesn't he deserve the same rights and the same dignity and the same jobs? What if someone told you that you were banned from even going to a water fountain when you were thirsty?"

A black woman cheered. "You tell 'em!"

Lincoln shook his head and pointed to the black crowd. "And you are no better! My girl was almost raped by one of yours! You want black power? You can't have power if the whites won't respect you. And why should they when all you do is fight amongst your own kind? How is someone calling them crackers any better than them calling you a Negro?"

A complete silence fell over both mobs and they looked guiltily at one another.

"Killing each other isn't going to achieve anything," Lincoln proclaimed. "One day it'll be your son or daughter—or your wife or husband—that loses their life over this madness. You want peace? You need to work for it! Stop dividing over color. Stop treating each other like you're different. Look at the person inside. And you do that by loving one another. I don't know about you, but I feel this Alabama heat 'cause it's hot as hell outside. And sometimes I feel pain. And sometimes I feel happiness. I feel it all 'cause I'm a person. My heart doesn't know a color. It just keeps on beating and yours will too if you stop all this nonsense."

"What do you know?" someone shouted. "You're a mutt. You don't know what we've been through!"

"Don't I?" Lincoln questioned. "My name is Edward Lincoln Masen and I've been hiding since the day I was born. You think I don't know what it's like to be hated? I do. I'm too light to be black and too dark to be white. I don't fit in anywhere. Don't tell me you're suffering. You don't know what suffering is until you lose a war you never asked to be a part of. Reality has hit me hard and I had to make a choice. Give up or keep on fighting."

Uncle James squeezed my shoulder, listening to Lincoln stand up courageously to those who had once treated him in an undignified manner.

"And today, folks, I'm fighting. Not to choose a side, or to decide which color fits me better, but to love you all in spite of that. I love you," he said, pointing to a white woman. "Cause if you're anything like my ma, I know you care unconditionally. I love you 'cause you're a reflection of women that birth babies that should have the right to have their children and be in public, no matter what race they are."

I heard a rumbling sound behind me, followed by the thump of a door shutting. I didn't even turn around to see who it was, too entranced by Lincoln's speech.

"And I love you," Lincoln continued, gesturing towards a black man, "if you're anything like my pa. Strong and mighty and taking on this world no matter what it throws at him."

The crowd nodded in agreement, murmuring to those around them.

"If you want to continue battling, living in a city in a state of chaos, then keep on. Keep on burning babies and wait to see if yours is next. Keep on locking your doors, forbidding a man to enter when he just wants to drink. One day it will be you, thirsty and alone, wondering why someone doesn't have the heart to help you. But I, for one, am done. I'm tired of living in fear and trying to justify others' actions by telling myself, 'these people don't know any better'. You do know better. So do it. Live better. Be better. Love better."

My eyes welled up with tears as Lincoln slid the gun out of the black man's grasp, sparing my father's life. He held his hand out to my father, waiting to help him up.

Father opened his eyes widely, not understanding why Lincoln would want to help him after everything he'd done.

"Fix this," Lincoln told him, not moving his outstretched arm. "You've got a daughter out there, debating if she should live an hour away because she's too afraid to love me underneath her own roof. You don't have to love me. Hell, you don't even have to like me, but you've got to love your daughter more than you hate coloreds."

I blinked with tears streaming down my face as Father glanced at me with a sadness I'd never seen before. He swallowed the lump in his throat and I knew there were all sorts of thoughts running through his head.

He turned to Lincoln, and then back to me. I nodded my head and he finally stared at Lincoln for what felt like forever. Father reached for Lincoln's hand and Lincoln helped him up, causing the once frenzied mob to clap and cheer.

"Hey!" someone shouted towards the steps, "what did you say your name was?"

Carlisle swept past me, strutting towards his son with a proud grin on his face.

"He's a Masen," Carlisle answered, "through and through."