Mostly White by Alison Hart

Author:Alison Hart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Torrey House Press
Published: 2018-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

MARGARET

He has blue eyes like Paul Newman. That’s the first thing I notice about him—and his courteous manner, I believe from his southern upbringing, is almost stilted yet refreshing. He isn’t much taller than me and has a slight hunchback. His blond hair is thinning a bit at the top. He wears it slicked back, which gives him a boyish appearance.

I ride the T to Boston Commons for our first date. It’s a brisk fall afternoon; I’m glad I have on my red peacoat and gloves. We are meeting at the swan lake. I spot him at a distance, checking his watch. I wave to him; he grins and walks towards me. His gait is uneven, like he may have a strained back.

“Thank you, Margaret, for coming,” he says in his slight southern accent.

“My pleasure, I hope I wasn’t too late.”

“Not too late, no. You’re mighty pretty.”

I smile.

“I thought we could take a nice walk through the Commons and head for a café on Newbury Street.” He takes my arm, guiding me down the path to the Commons. We stop at a bridge. Below us tourists ride in swan boats on the pond.

“Sounds lovely. Oh, swans! So graceful.” A group glides by, dipping their beaks into the water. They create circular patterns that ripple and extend into the lake.

“Yes, just like you.”

I blush. “R.J., where are you from?”

“Arkansas. I left as soon as I could. After undergrad school I came up here.”

“Well, it’s quite different here I imagine.”

“Yes. And it is a changing world. Margaret, where is your family from?”

“Portland, Maine.”

“Where are they originally from?”

“My father is Negro and my mother is American Indian, Irish, and Negro. So, I suppose I am American.”

“Yes, I suppose you are.”

“Is that troubling for you?” I hold onto the railing.

“What?”

“That I am colored?”

“No, Margaret, no. I never understood the division; growing up in the South no one could ever explain why we had to be separate, why I could no longer play with my Negro friend after a certain age. We all lived together and there were rules and we followed them. But I never understood them and I still don’t.”

“You know interracial marriage is forbidden in the southern states.”

“Yes. I believe there is opportunity here in the North to promote change.” An older woman scatters breadcrumbs from the bridge. A swan curves its neck into half a heart shape and daintily pecks at the crumb. The water reflects a mirror image of a whole heart. The swan lifts its neck and it is gone.

“Yes, I hope so.” We walk in silence for a bit. He stops and adjusts his back. “Does your back hurt, R.J.?”

“Well no, it’s the result of a bad birth. Somewhat of an injury.”

“Oh my, what happened?”

“My mama almost died, and they had to pull me out with forceps. Smashed up my head real good. And it turns out, later on, I was unable to walk. One leg grew longer than the other. So, I had to have surgery. I was about two or so.

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