The doors opened. Olivia sat on the edge of the counter crying her face into a rose-colored clinch. Allison’s mother had her hands on the girl’s knees as if holding her from floating away and gave a long sigh when she felt Marcus’ presence in the room. She didn’t look at him. But Olivia did. Through sparkling tears. It was at this point he realized how off kilter his mind had cranked. Olivia, he paused, would you go to school and call a black kid a nigger?
Allison’s mother snapped straight and flung a pointed finger into the air. You get out!
Because, Olivia, that’s exactly what you would be doing to Mexican kids if you name that dog, Beaner.
Out of this house! the grandmother shouted again. Allison had grabbed him by the back of the shirt at this point but failed to remove him from the doorway. Her mother was making her move now, coming around the dining room table at him. He was still preaching against racism when she reached him and pumped both open palms into his chest. Allison now wrapped her arms around his waist in a lurching struggle against his weight and strength. He grabbed the edge of the doorjamb as an anchor and said something about old white men in sheets hanging young black men in the night and something about Germans and Hitler throwing people into ovens.
Olivia’s fountain of tears had stopped, replaced with catatonia. He knew he had broken something irreparable. The golden irises of her eyes lasered the distance beyond the mangle of body parts swirling around him as if she had broken through him to a place where he did not exist. Something inside of him sank like a bowling ball tearing through the seam in a burlap sack and he released his anchor and all three of them went shuffling toward the front door, a six-legged three-headed beast whose sole purpose was to tear itself apart and once the door was opened and Marcus ejected, it was at once two heavily breathing female bodies pressed against the sealed entrance.
Allison’s mother snapped straight and flung a pointed finger into the air. You get out!
Because, Olivia, that’s exactly what you would be doing to Mexican kids if you name that dog, Beaner.
Out of this house! the grandmother shouted again. Allison had grabbed him by the back of the shirt at this point but failed to remove him from the doorway. Her mother was making her move now, coming around the dining room table at him. He was still preaching against racism when she reached him and pumped both open palms into his chest. Allison now wrapped her arms around his waist in a lurching struggle against his weight and strength. He grabbed the edge of the doorjamb as an anchor and said something about old white men in sheets hanging young black men in the night and something about Germans and Hitler throwing people into ovens.
Olivia’s fountain of tears had stopped, replaced with catatonia. He knew he had broken something irreparable. The golden irises of her eyes lasered the distance beyond the mangle of body parts swirling around him as if she had broken through him to a place where he did not exist. Something inside of him sank like a bowling ball tearing through the seam in a burlap sack and he released his anchor and all three of them went shuffling toward the front door, a six-legged three-headed beast whose sole purpose was to tear itself apart and once the door was opened and Marcus ejected, it was at once two heavily breathing female bodies pressed against the sealed entrance.
Edit 11.4.2018