“Lena I’m not telling you again, we can’t afford no fancy clothing and definitely no fancy jewelry!” Marcus yelled at me. I couldn't hold the tears much longer. See, being a “negro” had its bad times. Growing up and now living in the 1960’s has been some of the hardest times in my life. I was born in Montgomery, Alabama on the fifth day of July to Loretta and Jackson Wells. They worked hard to make sure I grew up with food on the table and clothes to wear, yet, they never got a day in their lives to just relax. Them dying put a hole in my heart no one could ever fill completely. They didn't deserve to be hated so much. I wanted to punish whoever set their house aflame. My parents couldn't afford college so I finished high school and got a job as a maid servant for a rich, whites family just north five miles from where Marcus and I lived. Marcus and I called them “whites” because they call us negroes, so they should have a name also. We got married just over seven years ago, it was small and we could barely afford wedding bands, though it was the happiest day of my life. Marcus was kind and gentle. He had the biggest brown eyes I had ever seen. He is so strong yet most of the time as sweet as honey. I still love him, but lately it has been hard to get by. “Marcus please, don’t yell. I’m sorry I got so ahead of myself and I saw all those nice, fancy clothes and the jewelry. I just wanted to have them so bad I -” I couldn't say no more because my sobs had become uncontrollable. Marcus came over to me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting gesture. “I’m sorry Lena, don’t cry please. I understand you want to have something pretty to wear but you don’t need any of that fancy stuff. You’re beautiful without those things no doubt about it.” He gently uses his thumb to wipe away the tears. I look into his eyes, and I just knew everything's going to be alright.


“Okay Lena you can go now, don’t need my friends seeing a negro in my house looking like that.” Mrs. Lonnie said, looking me up and down, sticking up her nose. I have been working for little Mrs. Lonnie for over seven years as her maid servant, and I hated every single second of it. She had no right to talk to me like that, yet she can because I’m black and that would be “disrespectful”. I said “yes ma’am.” but under my breath I said, “Says the woman who has more plastic surgery on her face than the whole state of Texas.” Mrs. Lonnie turned quickly, narrowing her eyes at me. “What did you say now? I couldn't quite tell.” I looked right into her eyes, staring for only a minute before saying, “Nothing Mrs. Lonnie. I’ll be going now.” I gave her a fake smile and walked away as fast as I could right out that door.

Ring. Ring. Ring. I had just gotten home from a long day of cleaning Mrs. Lonnie’s house. Huffing, I picked up the telephone and closed my eyes saying "Hello, Lena speaking." "Yes ma'am my name is Officer Wilkes and I wanted to let you know your husband Marcus has been arrested." All I felt was shock that I didn't realize I had dropped the phone. My only thoughts were about my poor Marcus. What happened? Suddenly I snapped out of my delusional state and felt consumed by thoughts of anger and confusion. "Excuse me sir but, what seems to have happened? My husband ain't no criminal." There was a brief pause, and some shuffling on the other line, then he said, "Well me being the arresting officer, I know exactly what that negro did. I got a call saying some black man had come in and sat down at a white restaurant trying to eat there. So I came in and told him he had to leave, and he refused. Then I had asked him twice more and he still wouldn't budge so here we are now. Does that answer your question Miss?" Pure rage surged in me and I had to refrain from yelling loudly into the phone. Still with venom in my voice I said, "Sir, do you know who your talking to? I’m not somebody you want to messing with right now. Don't you dare call my husband a negro! He did no such thing wrong! We should be allowed to sit, eat, play, drink, and go where ever we want when we want. Our skin doesn't define who we are as a human being. Now I demand you release him right this moment or I will be damned if you don’t see me at the station in the next hour!" Again there was the slightest pause, and I was confident I had gotten my point across. Finally, Officer Wilkes cleared his throat and said, "No can do ma'am. He has a right for a lawyer if your poor, sorry negroes can even afford one, and visiting hours are Mondays through Sundays from 1-5 in the afternoon. Goodbye now." Suddenly the line went dead and by now I was so angry I almost broke the phone from slamming it down so hard. This was not over.


“Hello Sir? Sir?”, I slammed down the phone for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last two hours. Ain't no one gonna help me I guess. What does it take to get a lawyer round here? My poor, poor Marcus. If only my parents had left more money in their will for me so I could get Marcus a public defender. I sunk down on the wall and put my head on my knees, tears threatening to fall for the millionth time today. What was I gonna do? My Marcus was counting on me and there’s nothing I seem to be able to do. Somehow I found the strength to get on my knees and started to pray. “God, please i'm begging you to help me out on this one. I've never wanted something so badly other than freedom to be myself and wear the skin I bare. Have mercy on your soul if you are listening. My Marcus, oh my Marcus-” I couldn't seem to go on, as my soft sobs became unwillingly louder and out of control. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something red catch my eye. I went over to the small bookshelf we had in our living room, practically dragging myself there. It seemed that it was an old, dusty book at first sight but when I looked through it, it was a diary. The whole diary was empty and seemed to be at least a decade old. When did this get in here? Then I remembered, it was my mother's gift to me on my fifteenth birthday, made to be “special”. I never got much on my birthday because we usually had little to no money left after my parents got paid. Our main priorities were food, clothing, and a roof over our heads. This was a time in our lives where things were going good and my mother said that it was about time I got something worth their money. Father never knew about it which made it our “special” secret. I never forgot that day because it was one of the good memories of my parents that I could still wrap around my finger, tugging at my heart strings every once in awhile. I could feel something tempestuous flowing through me and then I started to write. I wrote all my feelings I felt right at this moment, and started shaping out a story about my whole twenty nine years of living that I could recall. From all the looks and names directed towards my family, and all the blacks out here in the south, to the events that had happened in the last twenty four hours. After I had miraculously finished in just under three hours, another strong feeling overcame me. Relieve. I had written down my feelings and my body had lost its sorrow, anger, and loss. In that very moment I just knew that things would work out because God has plans for everything.

I had to get to the police station and see Marcus. I had fallen asleep on the floor after crying myself to sleep. All I could think about was seeing him and helping him. So after sitting there for less than a minute I got ready and started walking towards the station. When I got there I saw Officer Wilkes sitting at what I presumed was his desk. He sat there on the phone with his feet propped up on the desk, acting like there wasn't a care in the world. I despised that man so much, after he spoke to me so rudely on the phone. I rushed my way over to him immediately, slamming my hand on his desk to get his attention. He looked at me with greedy eyes, slowing looking me up and down, smirking. After another minute or so he ended the call with whoever he was talking to. “Can I help you?” he asked. I stared at him for a few minutes, studying him. He was probably in his mid thirties, with brown short hair and blue eyes. He seemed like an average guy, but I had seen past the looks. “My name is Lena, I am Marcus’s wife and I would like to see him.” His usual smirk that he had on his face had gone and was replaced with a frown. “Sure you can see that trashy negro husband of yours, follow me.” He got up and started walking away. I started to see red as I briskly walked behind him, shooting daggers at his back. He led me towards a room, I was assuming an interrogation room and told me to sit down. Before he left he smirked saying, “You know, you could do way better than a poor, sad man that your husband is. Someone who has a better job and is better looking like me.” I smiled right back at him and said, “Wow, you know I think i’m good. At least he isn't rude and cocky like you are.” He scowled at me, then walked out. Five minutes later the door opened again and Marcus walked in. I got up from where I was and ran towards him. “Marcus! Are you alright?” I noticed that he had a bruises and scratches all over his face. He looked at me with a blank face and said, “I was beat up by Wilkes and other officers when they brought me here.” I cut right to the point immediately. “I’m getting you out Marcus, so get ready because we are escaping. A smile started to make its way to his face, and he hugged me tight. “Yes we can do this. We can go board a train and go off to the North and start over!” I smiled a huge smile and said, “Yes, now let’s get out of here!” I took his hand and we started running out of there, not looking back. “Hey! stop it right there! come back here!” I heard Officer Wilkes shout. It didn't matter what he was saying because we were already heading towards freedom.

In a half hours time we were hiding behind a tree, waiting for the right train to board. Then, we found the perfect one and snuck on towards the back. He turned towards me and said, “Well Lena, we are finally going to be free. I love you and I can’t wait for a new start.” He looked at me, his luminescent brown eyes shining in the sunlight. Then I leaned in near his ear and whispered, “I love you so much more than you ever could imagine. A new beginning for us, and our little one on the way.” His eyes got wide as he looked at me and smiled like a Cheshire cat. Then I leaned in and kissed him, showing him how I felt about everything. When we parted, he whispered to me, “To new beginnings.” After that the train started to move and we were off to freedom, and to the rest of our lives.