Lydia

Pine and Soap

     Pastor Brooks told me that there's a devil trapped in my tongue. My parents looked at him with wide, concerned eyes when he tried to explain this to them. They didn't understand what it meant. That he was simply using a metaphor and making it sound pressing. As though, my inability to hold my tongue makes me less of a Christian. Or worse, threatens my Christianity.

     But God has always been really clear with me. Some things are right, other things are wrong, and I shouldn't just sit around and stare at the wrong ones.

     Right now I'm looking at a wrong one.

     Boss stands a couple hundred feet outside the front door, waving a finger at a dark-skinned woman in a pretty green dress. She stands there calmly, letting the man berate her in his domineering way.

     Daniel has one of his hands wrapped around my arm and the other holding my waist.

     "Yer kind ain't welcomed in ma store," Boss repeats for the third time, lowering his finger to watch the woman's expression. When he doesn't get what he's looking for from her, he switches his weight onto his other foot. "Do I need to git the po'lice?"

     The grip on my arm loosens just enough for me to break free—the water threatening to spill over the edge of my eyelids disappearing. I put both my hands on my waist and walk out the door and onto the wooden platform. The hot ground burns my bare feet but I ignore it and look between Boss and the woman.

     "Excuse me, Miss," I start, getting closer until I'm only a few feet away. "What is it that yer lookin' for today?" I ask, moving a hand to my forehead to block out the sun.

     She turns to me, the same heartbreaking expression on her face.

     "I would like to git some soap, ma'am," she answers, holding her hands neatly in front of her dress. A few stray curls hang just above her ear, a pearl earring dangling down against her jaw. Her dress isn't clean and her hair is tied back with a scarf—but she holds every bit of elegance you can imagine. You can tell that she dressed up for this trip into town. A trip she probably looked forward to spending in peace and quiet.

     I look over at Boss who clenches his fists together, daring me to go on.

     "Come on in then, I'll help ya git all sorted out inside," I say, holding out a hand to gesture her forward. She looks unsure at first but eventually takes my direction and walks up to the store with me.

     Daniel stares at me, unsure, but welcomes the woman anyway.

     I turn back to close the door and notice that Boss is storming down the dirt road toward the officer, getting his waving finger ready all over again. Daniel talks to the woman, guiding her over the different aspects of the shop before landing on the basket of soaps.

     Slowly, I make my way around the counter, leaning down with my head in my hand. Their conversation is still going but I'm focused on a man standing on the opposite side of main street.

     I know everybody in this town and almost everything about them. It's very rare that a stranger stops in our nowhere land piece of the Earth. I've never seen this man before. He looks like something out of a movie, his posture stiff and his clothes pleated. There isn't a single man around that could afford the clothes he's wearing. He stares at me from where he is and starts to head over at the same time that Boss does.

     Boss walks quickly in front of the officer, twisting his back to look at him every time he speaks. He stomps back up the platform and swings the door I previously closed, back open. The officer treads behind slowly, one hand clasped around his leather belt.

     He doesn't seem to care as much as protocol tells him to, but he looks over at the woman anyways. She turns and lowers her head, remaining silent. I watch Daniel shove his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable by the whole ordeal.

     "What seems ta be the problem, sir?" the officer asks, rubbing the side of his nose with his finger.

     Boss points at the woman, looking at her like she's dirt on the ground, and at the officer like he's a god. "Ma store ain't got no tolerance for them people," he explains, the pit of my stomach turning.

     "No," I start, leaning up on my elbows, "you ain't got no tolerance for this woman." I catch a quick glimpse of the man from outside, who's now leaning in the doorway. A couple of people have begun to crowd around, word running like wildfire around here. "This woman, who has a pulse, and a brain just like everyone else," I continue, coming out of hiding from the protecting barrier of the cash register. "Though it seems that she's got more sense than everyone in this here town. A heart too, which is more than I can say for you."

     Before I know it, Boss has his hand around my arm and is dragging me out of the store. Spit flies from his mouth as he yells at me. I cover the ear closest to his mouth, clamping my eyes shut as tight as they will go.

     People start to shout along, some pointing out that he's drunk, and others trying their best to talk some sense into him.

     I prepare myself to get hurt in some way or another—knowing that at the end of the day someone will convince me I deserve it—when a hand wraps around my waist and picks me up. I'm only held for a mere second, but my heart falls during that time, and plummets past the earth when I see who it was.

     The man with the fancy clothes holds his arm in front of me, blocking Boss from getting close.

     "My name is Grayson Witticks," he says, his expression unfazed as he demands silence from Boss.

     Everyone around goes silent and I catch Daniel's gaze from the window. The woman is far behind him, holding her little soap in the palm of her hand. Even she raises an eyebrow at the name.

     "I think it's best that you run on home," the man continues, unafraid of the testy little man in front of him.

     I see Boss weigh his options before deciding on me. He raises his finger one last time and displays his best sneer. "Yer fired ... again," he informs me, walking off with a hand in the air.

     Deciding that there's nothing left to see, everyone starts to go their separate ways. The man looks down at me before placing his hand on my back, guiding me back in the store. He moves the hand to my shoulder, a sincerely concerned look on his face.

     "Are ya alright, Miss?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

     His eyes aren't any truly interesting color. Just brown. But, I imagine that if he were walking at sun down, the light would hit them just right, creating a golden hue. I easily recognize the kindness in them. I also note that he smells like pine, which is something I'd like to remember when I think back on this day.

     "Yes, I am, thank you," I respond.

     He nods his head and walks over to the officer, who stands stiff as a washboard around him.

     I notice that Daniel was standing behind me, hovering over with concern but lack of knowing what to say. Dismissing his questions, I touch him lightly on the shoulder before heading over to the woman.

     She stands with her back to us, standing at the register with her lonely bar of soap. I walk closer to her and place a hand on her arm. She flinches slightly, as though she's surprised I'm touching her.

     "Ya can have that, as an apology," I say, earning a pearly white smile from her.

     "I'll always 'member ya," she starts, looking down at her feet. "I'm gonna tell ma babies all bout the girl who don't see no colors. They ain't gonna believe it."

     I'm not quite sure what to say, so I don't. Instead I return her smile and watch her leave.

     Daniel walks over to me and holds out his hand.

     "Come on, I'll walk ya home."