This year has been a tough one for me, mentally. Things I thought were one way, turned out to be something quite different, and for the worse. For some reason, I experienced more than one occurrence of this, and over time it all has taken a mental toll on me. I have an extremely loving family, full of patience, and through this monthly writing (okay, this one took me a bit more than a month), I have an outlet for all the emotions that I can't seem to express correctly. Thank you for taking the time to read this installment of my short stories...
I knew it would happen one day, after all, Alice retired when I was 3 years old. As I stand in front of her house, all of our carefree days of imagining and pretending flood my mind...the outdoor evenings of popcorn and movies...the summers full of creating and building together. I don't know who I would be if it weren't for this incredible person. She hadn't been just the lady who lived next door and babysat me. She has been my lifelong best friend. Is it odd that my best friend is a retired banker? Maybe, but I have never cared. She has always been there for me. Our friendship is definitely a two-way street. As much as I had spent my childhood and early adulthood confiding in her, she has confided in me, as well. She makes me feel like her equal, like I am truly important. I hope I make her feel the same way.
I knock as I open the back door. "Alice, it's me! Where are you?" Having just come from work, I grab a glass of water before starting my search.
"You're early...perfect!" smiles Alice as she heads over to me to give a quick squeeze. "Have you gotten taller?" she asks.
"No, Alice, I think you've shrunk!" I tease as I take a sip from my glass, smiling the entire time. As my smile fades, I look intently at Alice. I need a sign as to whether or not she is making the right decision.
"You're doing it again, aren't you?" she asks with a spicy tone.
"I don't know what you're talking about." I answer.
"You can't fool me. I can read you like a book. You'll see, this is going to be for the best. Nothing will change, other than my address and a lower stress level."
This is probably the millionth time Alice has explained her decision to downsize. I don't know why it bothers me so much. It's not like I live next door anymore. In fact, we hadn't been neighbors since my second year of teaching.
"We've weathered so many changes together, in both of our lives, we'll get through this one, too." adds Alice. She pats my shoulder and continues in a much more forceful voice, "Now let's get started!"
It's true, we have been through many changes together. The death of my mom, the death of her husband and son. Me going away to university, her traveling extensively with her church group. We survived it all, but I think the only way I stayed sane was because of her.
She's tried to convince me that her moving won't change anything, but from the moment she first told me about these plans, I've had the worst feeling. Her retirement apartment is about the same distance from my place, maybe even closer. I've toured the community and it seems like a good fit for her. After asking several people...several times I have been reassured that I can visit at any time and even spend nights with her still. Everything looks good...on paper. I just can't shake the feeling that this is going to change us in some way. We're giving over half of her life away; packing it up and shipping it off to unknown places. Some of her life will undoubtedly end up in a trash heap at the dump. What a bad cosmic joke, an extraordinary life reduced to sitting in a garbage dump being picked apart by animals and insects. Is that what's bothering me? Am I really that worried about what's going to happen to her material things? That's not me. I hate collecting things. I hate clutter. Experiences are what matter to me. Big, small, and everything in between. Guess who taught me that? Of course, it was Alice!
Alice rubs my back as she pushes me into motion.
"Where do you want to begin?" I ask.
She answers, "Let's begin in the basement. I think most of that stuff is going to the donation center or being thrown away. I'll want to keep photo albums, but everything else can go."
I can tell that Alice is anxious to start this new chapter in her life. That's all I want for Alice ever, is to be happy. If this is what's going to make her happy, I'm going to help any way I can. I've given myself this pep talk repeatedly, if only it helped my feeling of dread.
As soon as I open the door to the basement I smell the familiar musty basement smell. I take it in...I love that smell. My childhood home didn't have a cool basement, despite being located directly next to Alice's house. Many a musical was performed in this basement. Of course, we were avoiding a tornado for most of those performances, but I don't really remember a lot about the dangerous aspect. That was part of the magic of Alice.
My stomach churns as I survey the below ground floor. "Where did all of your holiday decorations go?" I slowly ask.
"I've been cleaning those out throughout the year. Don't worry, I kept the most special pieces. I don't have much storage in the new place, though." answers Alice.
I head toward the corner where stacks of dust-covered boxes live. Most of them look as old as the house. I fear that they will disintegrate as soon as I touch them. I let out a deep breath as I lift the lid to the top box and swipe at the dust cloud. Papers, from top to bottom. I start to panic as I ask, "Do you know what all of these papers are?"
Alice shakes her head no. "I haven't opened these boxes since we moved them in decades ago. They all came from my parent's house and my husband's family house. I don't think we need to read every word. Just scan the top of each paper to make sure it's nothing important and then you're free to toss it in the trash bin."
This is the way I spend my Friday evening, paper by paper, box by box. None of the papers make much sense to me, but after I read the heading aloud, Alice calls out, "TRASH IT!" Many trips up the stairs with the bin to empty it, and there were only a handful of boxes left. Of course, half of the trash bin was filled with tissues from me sneezing the dust away, but I feel very accomplished.
"Why don't we call it a night?" suggests Alice.
"We only have a few more, but if you're too tired we can stop." Sometimes I forget how much older Alice is. To me, Alice will always be a new retiree, fresh with excitement and renewed energy.
I see a smile spread across Alice's face, "If you can do it, I can do it."
The remaining boxes are all marked with Alice's maiden name. At the top of the first box I open, I see a family tree. "Oh Alice, you're going to want this. How cool that you have a record of your family! Someone sure went to a lot of work."
Alice scans the paper as she stands over my shoulder. "Ah, yes! I thought I had put that into a photo album. I guess I never got to it."
I carefully place it in the plastic bin Alice has waiting for anything she wants to keep. So far, nothing had gone in that bin. As I get closer to the bottom of the old box, I notice different generations of papers proving ownership of various things, including old copies of deeds to houses. Going even further going back in time, land. "Your family owned quite a bit of land in the south." I comment to Alice.
"Yes, my ancestors were very well-to-do back in the day. They sold all of the land a long time ago to developers. In fact, part of that inheritance went into buying this house, since my grandparents and parents passed on so early in life. At the time of purchase, we bought the land your family's house sat on, too. My husband had big plans for that land." Alice smiles, but I know on the inside her heart is melting into tears. She continues, "My aunts and uncles received the same amount. My relatives then scattered all across the country." Alice explains as she wipes away a tear. She thinks I can't see when she mentions her husband and tears up. I don't want her to feel badly about being sad, so I never push her into talking about him more than she wants.
As I reach the last few papers in the box, I notice the most peculiar looking paper I've ever seen in my life. The actual paper itself is so thin it starts to crack at the edges and flake away. I quickly place my other hand underneath the delicate document for extra support. It is dated in the '50s...the 1850s! Just as I begin to call Alice over in a frenzy of excitement, convinced she has an important piece of history, I make out what kind of ownership paper I'm holding. I start to shake as I drop the paper back into the box.
Alice notices and asks, "You okay?"
Honestly, I don't know what to say. I'm so taken aback, forming words is impossible.
"What happened? Did you swallow some dust? You look awful. Let me get you some water." Alice gets up and quickly climbs the stairs to the kitchen. I'm grateful for the chance to try and collect myself.
I knew Alice and her family were from the south, but that's about all we ever talked about. She mostly reminisced about her husband, her days at her all female college, and once in a while memories of her son. I assumed she never spoke much about her childhood due to the fact that her parents passed away when she was in high school. She didn't talked about grandparents or great grandparents. I never realized her family history could include owning slaves.
Alice comes down the stairs slowly and stiffly. "Here you go dear. Are you feeling any better?" I meet her at the bottom of the staircase wondering if my legs will give out. They feel rubbery and unstable. I take a few short sips of water before sitting down on the bottom step. Alice watches me closely. "I think this is a sign that we should be done for tonight. It's well past midnight." Alice reaches her hand down to my shoulder as she continues, "We need to pace ourselves!" She beckons me up the stairs as she again ascends up to the door.
I slowly pick myself up and methodically climb the stairs, turning out the lights at the top. My brain is swirling with a myriad of conflicting emotions. I can't focus on any one clear thought. I make my way to the guest bedroom where I curl up into a ball. What do I do? Do I ask her about her ancestors owning slaves? Will she be mad at me for asking about it? Will it embarrass her that I know? I don't want to make her feel badly. Does she even know? So many questions, I don't know where I'll begin.
My eyes slowly open to the sun's light coming through the sheer curtains. Can it be morning already? I look down at the clothes I had put on for work yesterday morning. Was it all a nightmare? Please tell me I dreamed that I found those papers. Alice knocks on my door as she opens it slowly.
"My, my, I really must have worn you out! You didn't even put your pajamas on to sleep." Alice notices as she places a coffee cup on the dresser.
I begin to sit up realizing that my back didn't appreciate the way I fell asleep. "Yeah, I guess I was more tired than I thought." Even I can tell that there is an unnatural tone to my voice. "I think I need to shower before drinking that coffee. My back is a mess." I say trying to be more jovial.
"Okay! See ya downstairs." Alice says as she turns to exit the room.
The warm water pours over my head as I try to formulate a plan. I just need to address it head on. I'm sure she can't know about her ancestors, she would have told me. When she finds out, I'll be there to comfort her. This is no different than any other tough spot we've worked through together. I feel refreshed and more able to tackle the day as I put on my comfiest work clothes. I grab my coffee and head downstairs.
I see Alice sitting on the back porch. No time like the present to get this over with.
"Hey, Alice. I need to tell you something about that paperwork I was going through last night. You know, that box with your family tree and deeds?" I start as I sit down.
"Oh, okay. Did you find something interesting?" Alice answers back.
"Kind of, but not really in a good way, unfortunately."
Alice interrupts, "You mean no love notes from Aaron Burr?"
"No, nothing like that." I say trying to laugh it off with her. "Um, I don't know how to say it other than just saying it, so here it goes. I found paperwork that shows your family owned slaves back in the 1850s." I relate the news as quickly as I can, hoping she understands me so I don't have to repeat anything.
"Oh, that, yeah. Not proud of the fact, but it was what people did back then. I'll toss it in the garbage when we finish up down there."
I'm in complete shock. She knows and is okay with it? I mean, I understand that she's had some time to come to terms with her ancestors' past, but still. I would expect that there would be some remorse in there somewhere. I know it's not her, directly, who owned slaves, but at the same time, knowing her the way I thought I did, I would expect something more than explaining it away so nonchalantly. Am I overreacting?
My head starts to swirl in a haze again. My body uncontrollably cringes when I feel her hand on my back.
"Can I make you anything for breakfast?" I look up to watch Alice form her words. "Are you okay? I don't think you've woken up all the way. Let me make you another cup of coffee." Alice says as she grabs my mug.
It's difficult to speak, but I manage to tell her I would be happy to make more coffee.
"No way! I can never repay you for all of your hard work, and giving up your spring break on top of that. It's my pleasure." Alice insists.
Should I press Alice for more information? Should I let it go? I'm feeling extremely lost. It's almost as if I've slipped into some alternate universe. I quickly try to think back to any conversation we've ever had about history, especially slavery and civil rights. I can remember tons of conversations about female empowerment. I mean, Alice was the poster girl for women's rights. I can't seem to recall any memory that eases my emotions. I have to say something. I have to.
Alice hands me a fresh cup of coffee, "Here you go...it's hot, so be careful."
"Thanks. Alice, may I ask...were you upset when you first found out about your ancestors?"
"What do you mean, dear? Are you talking about the slavery thing?"
I immediately can tell that Alice is annoyed with me. She's always been the first to stand up for any minority treated unjustly. Why would this situation be different, right? I continue, "I mean, it's more than just a 'thing', though, right? It was a huge deal, it still is." I answer in a concerned tone. My heart beats loudly in my ears as I wait for her response.
"My friend, my dear, sweet friend. I'm proud of my family, ancestors and all. They earned money, invested in land and business, and knew when to sell. Did they own slaves? Yes, but that was what land owners did back then. Would we own slaves now? Of course not! The law saw them as property back then, and so did my ancestors." explains Alice.
"Alice! At no point, then or now were slaves EVER property. They were ALWAYS people. Unfortunately, they were people who were enslaved, treated horribly in every cruel way, and gaslighted to believe it was all okay, as long as it doesn't happen now." I point out trying to hold back burning tears of anger.
"Sweety, I'm not the one who owned them. I have nothing to do with that part of our family history." Alice says in an overly calm voice.
"So, you're not at all angry that your ancestors bought and maybe even sold slaves? You're not the least bit upset that your ancestors did nothing to stop the nightmare for these people?" my mind pleads with Alice to show some remorse.
Alice thinks for a while. "I don't understand what you want me to say about this. I don't want to upset you. Let's drop it for now, okay hun?"
I agree to stop talking about it, but I'm not sure I can let it go. Clearly, Alice is not who I thought she was, and I'm not sure how to handle this. I decide that just sticking to the task of the week is the only thing I can do right now. Oh gosh, I hope we can resolve this somehow during our week together. Otherwise, it's going to be a loooong week.
As I start packing up her knickknacks marked for donation, I try to convince myself that I'm not as heartbroken as I feel. Alice thought it would be best if she finishes going through the paperwork in the basement alone. She's probably right. I try not to think about our conversation from this morning or what I found out about her family, but my emotions seep into everything I try to accomplish. We spend the day working in separate rooms.
As I finish packing up knickknacks in the last bedroom, Alice quietly peeks her head into the room and asks what I would like for dinner. I hadn't seen Alice since our morning coffee. "I'm not sure. I'm pretty beat." I answer.
Alice fully moves into the room, "You need to eat something. I notice you didn't eat anything for lunch, so you have to be starving by now."
I look up and see her gentle smile. I can't help, but to smile back at her.
Alice continues, "Why don't we get out of these dusty, dirty clothes and go out to eat...my treat."
I think about it. It would be nice to get out of this house. Maybe it will help to clear the cobwebs that have formed in my brain. I tell Alice, "Okay," as I stand up to go change.
Once we figure out where to eat, we ride in silence. As I put the car in park, Alice grabs my wrist.
Alice takes a deep breath, "Are we okay? I know you are bothered about my family history, but I'm hoping after mulling it over throughout the day, you've come to terms with it. I love you. I love you no matter what. I want to put this behind us, especially since I'm more than ready to start this new chapter in my life."
Even though I'm sick of having to think and worry over this, I'm glad Alice brought it all up again. I don't want any more meals taken in awkwardness. I nod my head up and down, "Alice, I love you, too, but I'm going to need time to process it all. It was a shock to find out about your family history, but more than that, it was a shock to hear your justifications. Now, I don't want to rehash anything right this minute, but when I've sorted out how to communicate my feelings, we will need to talk again."
I've heard Alice say that phrase hundreds of times. I never thought I would have to say it to her. Our friendship had been so easy before now. Even when I disagreed with her in the past, or vice versa, we respected each other's views and opinions and could find common ground.
Dinner was spent immersed in small talk and Alice asking about my classes. Normally at our dinners, we spend our time together discussing newsworthy events of the day, current affairs, and other hot topics. Alice rarely asks about my classes. She wasn't excited to find out that I was entering the teaching field. At the end of the day, though, it was what made me happy, and she respected that.
The next few days pass in about the same way. We go out to eat our dinners since we are both too tired to cook, and by the end of the week, everything, including her kitchen is packed in boxes or given away. Every night, before going to bed, I use my free time to read articles about other people's experiences when finding out their ancestors' owned slaves. Unfortunately, it doesn't help. Right or wrong, I decide I have to face my own feelings about Alice's family and try to talk to her again. I feel like I have a deadline to square this away before Alice moves, so I am forced to have this conversation. Could this change our friendship forever? I hope not.
I walk through Alice's house. The early morning light encircles everything in a fresh glow. Every piece of furniture has a tag on it: green means the donation center will be picking it up today, red means it stays and will be moved to Alice's new apartment. I can remember running through this living room a million times, starting from probably the first time I could run as a toddler, to the moment I found out I got into college, when I tripped, fell, and cut my lip open. The last time I ran through this room was when I had been hired to teach. This house held us, squeezed us through the rough times, and celebrated with us in the good. This morning I feel something different. I feel like the house betrayed me. Instead of protecting me from this horrible secret, it made me see something I wish I never saw. Maybe the house felt betrayed by Alice and me because we decided Alice should move on. It sounds silly, but truly accurate.
"I wish I could say it's going to be difficult to say good-bye, but I think I should have made this move years ago." Alice says as she walks down her grand staircase.
"Alice, can we eat in tonight and talk?" I ask.
Alice stares at me. After a minute, she lets out a deep breath and agrees. I know she isn't happy to have to discuss this issue again. It's important for me to properly explain why I am upset, or at least try. I wish I were one of those people who clearly communicates at all times, but I am exactly the opposite. I find it quite difficult to express my feelings and thoughts, especially when I need to do so, and especially in awkward moments. Who knew I would ever feel awkward around Alice?
After the last donation pick up had been made, I start to get our dinner together. Tomorrow is moving day. Nothing else is left in the house, but what's going to the new apartment, and of course, our newfound conflict. I hope that doesn't move to the new apartment with Alice's other stuff, but I'm not feeling hopeful given our past attempts at discussing this. I'm nervous so trying to put dinner together consists mostly of me dropping things and cleaning it up.
Alice walks in and pours two glasses of wine. She hands one to me as she says, "I suspect we'll need some of this tonight."
I recognize the feeling of hyper-sensitivity coming on which is exactly the feeling I did not want to bring to this conversation. I want to state my feelings clearly, succinctly, and hopefully without emotion.
I follow Alice to the back porch where there are still two semi comfortable lawn chairs sitting there.
"Alice, as I've said, it's important that I tell you why I'm upset about your family history. I've tried to find a way that explains how I feel so you'll be sure to understand, but I can't guarantee that I can do that. Please be patient with me." I begin as the shakiness returns to my voice.
Alice stays silent, so I continue, "To say that finding out that YOUR family...of all families... owned slaves was a shock, is an understatement. I'm upset that you never told me, I think, because I wonder why you couldn't trust me with that secret."
Alice interrupts, "This is exactly why, dear. I knew you wouldn't be able to separate my relatives from me."
"Please, Alice...this is hard enough without losing my train of thought when you interrupt." I close my eyes to regain my thoughts. "As shocking and hurtful as it was to find out about this information in the manner in which I did, I'm much more upset by your response. It wasn't just your ancestors who treated those people like property, your response did, too. You were so calm and okay with everything..."
"Would you like me to build a time machine, go back in history, and change everything?" Alice asks as she interrupts in a very spikey voice. A voice I didn't recognize.
I look up at Alice with tears forming in my eyes. I've never been on the receiving end of Alice's forceful arguments, at least not like this. My insides burn as I fathom how she could speak to me in this tone, with those words. Usually, she meets my differing views in a loving, tell me more tone. This is completely different. This is a different person, not the Alice I know.
"Alice, I respectfully asked you not to interrupt. I know this can be a very heated topic, but I need to get this out without losing my words. I can't do this if you continue to interrupt." I repeat, summoning my most forceful voice.
Alice stands up claiming she needs more wine. I try, once again, to gather my thoughts, hoping this is all worth it. Hoping that at the end of this conversation, everything will be fixed, and my Alice will be back.
As Alice sits back down, I try one last time to explain, "I keep going back to what if these were my ancestors who had owned slaves...how would I feel about them, about everything? I think I would be angry. Angry at them for seeing fellow human beings as property. Seeing another person in such a way that it would be okay to commit such atrocities against them...my anger would be an anger that would never go away. You said that you are proud of your family for working hard and farming that land, but your ancestors didn't farm that land. Most of the work, most of the physical work was done by their slaves. Their slaves who didn't see one cent of that profit. Their slaves who were made to work from sunup to sundown in pain and who were tortured. There was no rest, there was no 401K. Their descendants didn't inherit any of that money from their hard work. I'm sorry, Alice, I would not be proud of my ancestors. I would be ashamed of them." By the time I finish, I have tears pouring down my cheeks. I want to say more, but I have no words for the anger I feel. I'm angry at Alice's ancestors and I'm angry at Alice for not being angry and ashamed, too. It goes beyond anger, though, and that's what I cannot put into words.
"But that's not how my ancestors saw their slaves. They didn't see them as fellow human beings. They were taught to see them as property." Alice tried to argue.
"ALICE! Even your relatives could see that these people were human beings. To say that skin color gave them an excuse to treat them so inexcusably is ridiculous, even back then. Half the country knew that, too." My tears turned to red hot fury as I started shaking. This conversation was ending worse than I could ever imagined.
"Dear, you are NOT listening to historical facts. You are looking at this from the viewpoint of modern times." said Alice condescendingly.
I shake my head from side to side, "I don't know how else to explain it, Alice." I feel defeated.
Alice stares at me with cold eyes, "I don't either."
I truly don't know what else to say, so I excuse myself for bed.
I wake up knowing exactly what I need to do today. I need to help Alice move into her new apartment and then I need some space from her for a while. Maybe if I put some distance between us...between this horrible week with Alice and her family, maybe I will know how better to handle our friendship going forward. I love Alice. I can't simply forget our lifetime of friendship, but I also can't see why she doesn't understand the reason I am upset.
Moving day goes smoothly, Alice is her usual upbeat self. The fact that she can return to such normalcy bothers me. Is she a better person because she can let this conflict go, and I can't? I love Alice, but I can't deny, that at least for the time being, our friendship has changed.
It's been two months since I've visited Alice in her new place. School is out for the summer, so I am all out of work excuses. Since I don't really have any hobbies, I couldn't think of a reason I can't stop by. For my sake and for hope's sake, I've forgiven Alice. True, forgiveness doesn't come naturally in this situation, in fact I have to mentally forgive her every day. I pray that someday I will wake up and not immediately replay that devastating last conversation with her in the old house. I pray that one day, I will wake up and not have to convince myself to forgive her justifications. I pray that one day we can have a carefree friendship again, where I can totally trust her, and she can totally trust in me. I continue to feel guilty, and at times wrong for not being able to let this issue pass, as Alice has. At the same time, though, I still feel resentment that Alice cannot understand why I am angry. Alice calls me every week. I politely carry on a conversation, but it isn't the same. Our conversations consist of small talk, forced laughter, and long, awkward pauses. My mother doesn't understand why I don't just cut off the friendship if it makes me this upset. Alice is part of me, though. Cutting Alice out of my life would be like cutting a limb off. After mentioning this metaphor to my mother, she quickly pointed out that if I had a limb infected with cancer would we not think twice to amputate it?
I lock my car door and slowly walk into the air-conditioned lobby. As I wait to swipe my visitor's badge, I hear a news report on the T.V. It's an interview about "cancel culture." I step out of line so I can continue to listen to it. A woman of color is giving her opinion on the subject, and her words ring in my ears. The interviewer asks why she didn't think this "cancel culture" works to combat the issue of racism. Her answer is simple; without learning something new, people with racist beliefs or opinions will continue to live thinking that those beliefs and opinions are true. By canceling these people, whether it's taking them off the air, firing them, or cutting them out of our lives, we can't continue to educate those who need it the most.
The interviewer's interest is piqued, and so is mine, as he immediately asks her another question, "What if we find ourselves saying the same things over and over, our anger growing with every repeated syllable. Wouldn't it just be easier to let them go, and just walk away from the situation?"
I will never forget her answer, "Yes, it would be much easier to walk away, but how will that help future generations if nobody understands why they were cut off, or why they were fired? Racism is very rarely discussed because it's an uncomfortable subject. But if we don't talk about our emotions behind it, and why we feel the way we do, how can anyone begin to see our perspective? By not talking about racism, giving credence to our emotions about it, we've given racism an opening to come back into being."
Alice opens her door with one of her famous smiles waiting for me. I immediately hug her. I love her unconditionally, but I will never stop trying to make her understand my views.
The End
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