Against my better judgement

Chapter 4: warning bells

The next day, she doesn't even want to come into work. She had tried to push her mind away from the encounter, but she can't. It's too big a trauma for her to just bypass. His words stick with her as she walks home, as she cooks her dinner, settles into bed. When she wakes up, they are still in her mind. As she passes through the station door in the morning, it feels as if they are being shouted back at her again, reverberating through the walls. Yesterday is behind you now, she tells herself in a poor bid to find some positivity, it can't be that bad again. She doesn't even believe herself.

            At midday the bell on her desk dings softly.

When she pokes her head around the shelf, he seems as surprised to see her as she him, their expressions of shock and confusion mirrored on the other's face. The dim light of the records room casts a yellow glow over his smooth, dark skin. The loose hairs that stick out of his otherwise perfectly round afro are alight with yellow too. What shocks her is not any of these details, it's his clothes. His stocky form is contained in a fresh, light blue CSPD uniform. Though she hasn't blinked since her eyes locked on him, she still cannot process what she's seeing. A black cop. In Colorado Springs.

            "...are you okay ma'am?" his kind eyes look at her with concern.

The sound of his soothing voice shakes her from her daze, she allows herself to blink, to pace a hand on the desk as if to stabilise herself.

            "I just..." she begins, unsure where that sentence is going to end.

            "You weren't expecting to see a brother in a uniform. I get it." He chuckles. "I'm Ron, by the way."

Now that the initial awkwardness has subdued, he is easy-going.

            "Nice to meet you."

She's still breathless at the situation. His calmness baffles her. He appears unfazed by the tension of his position. His bright eyes tell her it can't be more than his first day in the job, and that he hasn't met Landers yet. It pains her to know that he soon, will be weighed down by the shackles of their workplace. She wonders if she should tell him, give him a warning even. What would she even say? Beware of the racist, alcoholic cop? She'd be warning him off half the damn station. She decides against it. She can let him have his joy for now. She will bear the stress of Landers alone.

            And then it hits her.

Landers' aggression, the other cop's comments, the increased racial tension around the building. They see this as her fault. Think she has opened the floodgates of the black community. As if there was some kind of bat-signal that would draw every black person with in a five-mile radius right to the CSPD to apply for jobs. If it hadn't had such serious repercussions for her, she'd laugh at its stupidity. Black folk would have to be out of their mind to work here. ...What does that say about her?

            "You wouldn't mind findin' this for me would ya?" Ron's voice is somehow comforting, although she thinks that's down to her perception of him as something, or someone, familiar.

He hands her a small piece of paper with a name and a number on it.

            "That is my job." She's smiling when she says it.

As she takes the few steps back into the shelves, she hears his voice inquiring towards her turned back.

            "So how long you been working here?"

She fingers through some of the files, searing for the one she needs.

            "Only a couple of weeks," her voice is nonchalant despite the fact she has counted every single day, "I'm about as new as you."