It is whaat it is

BLACK & BLUE

 

The white marble steps are not white at all. There are pretty brown veins running thru them, but who seems them besides me once a week? That's when it's my turn to get rid of the soot and dirty shoe marks. My bucket of soapy water, plenty of rags and a lot of energy brightens the steps and my outlook. That feeling doesn't last long. I am not alone. The entire block, both sides of the street car line, have the same situation. We all manage to get used to it but it crushes our souls.

 

The Browns next door are too old, too full of creaks and pains to take care of their property. Sally Lu, only fifteen and ½ , and I, an ancient seventeen year old high school senior, take turns on Sunday mornings, before church to wash their steps for them. Mr. Brown offers to pay us but we don't accept. Mrs. Brown insists on giving us peanut butter crackers every week. Sally Lu and I take them, tell her we save them for after lunch, but don't. The crackers are never crisp and one time mine was moldy.

 

Another baby has arrived on our block. It's a girl, I was told, but I haven't seen her yet I can imagine too vividly that the babe will be beaten senseless or starve to death. Her Mother is Marcella. I don't often see her but do see men go in and out of her house in the evening. My mother tells me they must be visiting cousins from NY or Philly. She thinks I believe that nonsense. I know about sex, whores, drugs. I learned it in the 10th grade class. We were told about disease and given condoms with instructions. When the teacher left, some of the boys thought they were funny and blew them up. Chicki Langley asked a boy I didn't know if he wanted to try it on her. I hurried out of the classroom, into the girls' bathroom. I slipped on the wet floor but made it to the sink where I gagged and threw up.

 

Rainy days make me sad, except when they come on Saturdays, and they wash the steps for me. Otherwise, I get blue with no particular reason. The distressed feeling washes over me like a cloud of dust that doesn't care who or what it upsets. Nothing abnormal happens. It is the future that will happen and mine looks dreary, almost hopeless. High school days are nearing the end. My grades have always been more than satisfactory but even so, I'm not going to college. Scholarships are for the brilliant or for kids with parents who know somebody, who knows somebody. I haven't waited to apply for jobs, actually got three interviews, but not hired. No experience, no secretarial training, no anything except, 'Sorry, NO.' Pictures of Marcella getting paid for what she does is as far out of ever happening to me as becoming a famous movie star, winning the lottery.

 

Is my face, my body changing color? Oh, that it would! It's always been black, a dark shiny black. My hair is really kinky. In the mirror I see my brown eyes, dark skin and a bursting blue heart. It is not what I want but is what I have.

 

Now what?