Ain't No Sunshine (10 page)

"He's afraid.  He never had the life he wanted and he takes it out on us," she said. She put some food on my plate and handed it to me as I gingerly sat down at the table.

"What is he afraid of?"  She didn't answer me.  Instead, she came up behind me and put her arms around my shoulders.  She kissed my head and just said she was sorry over and over again.

"You really love her, don't you?" she asked moments later.

"I do, Mother.  It's like she's the reason I wake up in the morning.  Without her, I'd die." She touched my chin and turned my face toward hers.

"Then love her no matter what he tells you."

I got washed up, shaved, and tried to make myself look presentable so that Ruthie wouldn't worry.  I got to the library right around 4:15.

"Where were you today?  I was worried."  Ruthie had been standing by the door of the library, hoping I would show up.  We walked hand in hand to our favorite hidden spot between the stacks.

"You missed my unveiling. Are you okay?" The unveiling was a big event for all the art students.  Usually in the spring there would be an exhibit featuring all their work from the year.  The art teacher really just started it as a way to showcase Ruthie, and this year she added a fall exhibit to display the work Ruthie had done in New York over the summer.

With all of our plans to get married I had completely forgotten about it, but at least she had shown me her paintings beforehand.  The best of her work this year was a painting she called "Into the Light."  She had painted a person walking into a ray of light, using only shades of yellow.  Thirty-seven shades of yellow to be exact.  I didn't even know thirty-seven shades of yellow existed.  It was a very powerful painting. When I first looked at it, I thought it represented happiness because of all the yellow.  After staring at it for a while, I saw that it was really a dark and foreboding painting that made me think about death.

"Yeah, I'm fine - I'm sorry I missed it.  I had to...take my mom to the hospital today, that's all." I lied.  "I'll make it up to you, I promise."  That was the truth.  I
would
find a way to make it up to her.

"Don't worry about it. Is your mother okay?" 

"Yeah, she's fine.  It was nothing."

"What did he do to her this time?"  Ruthie grimaced as if she could feel the pain herself.  She was always so empathetic.   I loved that about her.

"He...um."
  There were a million things that I could have said he did.  All of which would have been true at some point.  I just always had a hard time lying to Ruthie.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, finally.  "This is our time."

"Okay.  Has your father find out about us, yet? I'm sure someone probably told him about the hand-holding by now," she said as she came close to me and kissed me gently on the lips.  When she hugged me I must have winced in pain.

"What?  What is it?"

"It's nothing.  I'm fine."  She didn't believe me.  She started to unbutton my shirt.  I grabbed her hands to make her stop, but she gave me a fierce look.

"Stephen, let me look at it."  When she got my shirt open, she gasped.  My chest was nearly completely covered with bruises.  I was black and blue all over.  She took my shirt completely off and stared at the damage to my back.

"Oh, Stephen," she cried as she gently traced the fresh bruises with her fingertips.  "We have to get you to a doctor."

This was the worst beating she had ever seen my father give me.  I never let her see when things got too bad.  I would always hide in my room for a few days until the wounds healed before I went to see her again.

"I'm fine.  Nothing's broken.  I would know if something was broken."

"Stephen, you can't go on like this.  He's going to kill you.  Please get out of that house, if not for your own sake, then for mine. What would I do without you?  You're all I have."  Tears were streaming down her face, but she was holding back from breaking down completely.  I held her in my arms and let the tears fall on my bare chest.  I loved to hold her.  Taking care of her made me forget my own problems.

"Look, Ruthie, I'm fine. Don't worry about me.  It was my fault anyway.  I shouldn't have held your hand in public like that. Maybe it was too soon."

"He did this to you because we held hands?" she choked through the tears as she pulled away from me.  She was going to blame herself.  I couldn't let her do that.

"No, Ruthie, it's not your fault."

"I know it's not my fault, Stephen!" she yelled at me.  She wiped the tears from her face, trying to get control of her emotions.  I tried to quiet her down. Even though the library was completely empty, it still felt weird talking so loudly.

"Ruthie, calm down."

"I will not calm down!"  She pushed my hands away when I tried to hug her again.

"Ruthie, please..."

"Stephen, I know it's not my fault and it's not your fault either.  But you don't see that.  He's got you so brainwashed that you actually think you deserve his torture.  I've spent my whole life trying to convince you that you're worth more than that, that you deserve better, but you just don't get it!"

"
Shh
!"  I covered her mouth as an old man came into the library.  He glanced around as if he had a question.  After a couple of minutes, when no one came to his assistance, he walked back out.  I let go of her mouth when she had calmed down a little.  She sat on the floor and put her face in her hands.

"I can't do this anymore," she said finally. 

"Okay, let's go somewhere else and talk."  I thought she meant she couldn't meet me in the library anymore, but it was much more serious than that.

"No, that's not what I mean." She swallowed.  "I mean I can't do
us
anymore.  I can't sit back and watch him kill you, just like Matthew.  I can't take it.  I can't watch you die.  I can't lose someone else that I love." 

"You're not going to lose me. I'll always be here for you. I promise." I held her to me tightly.

Ruthie shook her head. "You can't promise that. Not when you live with that man."

We sat on the ground holding each other for a moment. I had to think of a way to assure her.

"You're right. You're absolutely right. I need to get away from him. But I need you to come with me. 
Tonight."

Ruthie pulled away and stared at me.

"Tonight?" she said.

"Yes, tonight. Why do we need to wait?" I said, staring into her eyes with a newfound sense of enthusiasm and hope. "I have some money saved up. We can get an apartment. I can get a better job; you can sell some paintings. Let's do it. Let's do it tonight."

Ruthie looked down for a second. I thought she was going to reject me by claiming it was too dangerous, but instead she said, "Let's do it."

We kissed each other with renewed vigor. Even after the librarian came back, we continued to hold and caress each other as we made our plans. We made arrangements to meet after midnight and drive to Washington DC so we could get married as close to where Martin Luther King had made his "I have a Dream" speech as possible. Tonight
our
dream was coming true.

"If you change your mind, I'll understand," Ruthie said as she walked me to my truck. "If you don't come tonight, I'll have my answer and I won't hold it against you."

"Nothing could stop me from being with you."

When I got home my father was waiting for me.  He sat in the recliner next to the television and stared into nothingness. I probably could have slipped right past him and gone to my room without him even noticing. But for some reason I felt the need to stand up to him. I was entering a new stage in my life with Ruthie. If I wasn't strong enough to tell my father of my intentions, how would I ever be able to face all the obstacles that Ruthie and I would face?

“Ruthie and I are getting married,” I said, bracing myself for the imminent abuse.  I started to look around for something I could use for self-defense.  I spotted a lamp, a vase, and the same broomstick that he had used on me.  That would be poetic justice.  That's what I would reach for first.  I planned how I would pin him down and demand that he leave me and Ruthie alone.

But he didn't attack me. He didn't even move from his chair. He just folded his hands together and stared into the distance.

"You can't marry her. It's illegal," he said calmly - too calmly.

"No, it's not. Anti-miscegenation laws were repealed in Virginia in 1968."

He shook his head.

"Even if it was still illegal, I would do it anyway. I love her and I'm not letting you or anyone else keep me from her anymore. I don't care that she's Negro -"

"It's not because she's Negro!" 
he
yelled, interrupting me.  He stood up and tried to use his size to intimidate me, but I was taller than him.  I was proud for a moment that I wasn't afraid of him.  I straightened my back and met his evil glare.  He bit his bottom lip in frustration.  He realized his normal scare tactics weren't going to work this time.  He opened his mouth to say something and nothing came out.  I wondered what he could possibly say to try to convince me to no longer love Ruthie. 

He opened his mouth again and blurted, "It's not because she's Negro.  It's because...I'm her father.  You two are half brother and sister."

Saying it out loud brought back all the emotion from that night. I felt sick to my stomach. I thought I might throw up right there in the interrogation room.  I noticed a look of disgust on Lieutenant Drake's face. He took a deep breath and tried to remain professional.

"So, Theodore was Ruthie's father. That's why he'd always had a special interest in her."

I nodded and then I gagged a little.

"Ray, can we get the kid some water?" Lieutenant Drake called through the door.

Seconds later an officer handed me a glass of lukewarm water. I thought about Ruthie as I drank. I wondered if she was in the next room giving her version of events. Of course she didn't know anything about that night. I had spared her the details.

"Thanks," I said, placing the empty glass on the table. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.

We sat in silence for a moment as I tried to block out images of my past.

Lieutenant Drake closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. I had been talking for three hours and he still wasn't any closer to figuring out who killed my father.

"So is that why you killed him? Not for the years of abuse, but because he told you Ruthie was
your
..." He trailed off, not even able to finish the sick thought.

"I should have killed him that night.
Right then and there.
I should've taken that broomstick and jabbed it through his throat. That would've made me feel better."

"But you didn't." He crossed his arms and studied me. "You must have been pretty angry."

I glared at the lieutenant. "I was beyond angry. For sixteen years, that man sat back and watched me fall in love with her. He didn't say a word. He just let it happen. And then with one phrase - she's your sister - he took away everything that meant anything to me."

He nodded in agreement, trying to understand how I felt. "So why didn't you kill him then?"

I shrugged. "I wanted to. I tried. My mother stopped me."

Lieutenant Drake took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Tell me about what happened."