Short Story

“Immersion” Excerpt

Published in The Pulse Literary Magazine of Lamar University 2018-2019

“I told you to stay away from them Wetbacks,” I heard Charles say from outside.

I dried my soapy hands on my apron and rushed toward the door. Not again. I couldn’t stand it. Not my Charlie. Not today.

“Charles,” I shouted as I pushed on the screen door.

Only, Charles had placed my flower pot in front of the door, preventing me from running to my boy’s aid.

“Charles,” I shouted, as I struck the screen door with my hands.

“Stay out of it, Nancy,” he responded without even turning to face me.

The two stood out in the gracefully colored front lawn, adorned with my flowers, lawn ornaments, and bird feeder. Charlie stood with his back facing the street, his eyes watering as they called out to mine. Charles, belt in hand, did it once more. Again and again the leather struck my boy’s delicate back as his father scolded him for having different friends. They were only boys. He didn’t know any different. I didn’t raise him to hate because of the color of one’s skin, a parenting choice opposite his father’s. Charles didn’t understand. Ever since he was young, Charles has had a problem with colored people, a trait forced upon him by his own father. I knew his past. His father’s abuse on him for doing just as Charlie had done. A cycle repeating itself.

“Charles,” I shouted once more, pushing desperately on the door. “Stop!”

*          *          *

Charlie cried himself to sleep in my arms. I held him close, allowing tears to escape my own eyes. Charles in the next room, our room. With another woman. Their moaning and groaning trespassed the thin walls, each noise biting away at my soul. The man I once loved. The one who swore to love and protect me. With another woman. In our bed. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t take his infidelity. But what more was there for me to do? What else could I do but remain strong. For Charlie.

I refused to sleep in that room. In that bed, ever again. And Charlie grew more scared each day. The only thing that made him happy, the only relieve he had in his life, was his friend. A good friend. And a good family. A family I wish we were. The home stilled, all sound drowning in the boiling thunderstorm cooking outside. The calm sent chills down my body until the clicking of heels and slamming of the front door signaled the beginning. It was happening again. And I had to stop it. I knew what I had to do, knew what I would go through. And as I kissed Charlie’s puffed up red face, I built up enough courage to do it.

I set his head down on his pillow, carefully as to not wake him. I creeped to his bedroom door, locking the door from the inside before stepping out. One final look at his still body on the bed and I walked out, closing the door behind me. I then turned to our darkened home. My home. My life. A life I didn’t desire. Didn’t expect to have. Nothing but sadness filled my hallways. My room. And I accepted my fate. I was being punished for my own disobedience. My failure to listen to my parents. To my family. To my friends. They warned me, but I didn’t listen. I was in love. Blinded by Charles. And I fled. Left the loving home I had with my parents. Left my friends for a life of misery. I deserved it. I deserved this punishment. But Charlie didn’t. He deserved happiness. And I would ensure he obtained it. I mustered enough courage and stepped forward.

“Charles,” I spoke as the bedroom door creaked open.