Love Knows No Color Pt. 15

With Christmas finally over, it was time to celebrate the new year. We decided to have our own New Year's Eve celebration at the house, and friends and family were invited. I did my normal DuBois-Punxsutawney run that day, and didn't get home until about 7pm. The guests were already starting to arrive when I got home, but Shavonda decided to join me in the tub anyway. She washed the road grime from my back, and we kept things from getting too overheated, though we did linger when we washed the private areas. She'd been taking baths lately so she wouldn't mess up the haircut Shaunice had paid so much for. I had to admit, it was beautiful, but Shavonda told me she wasn't going to get that cut again. She'd rather have something easy to take care of, like her natural curls. Honestly, whatever she wore I would love, but I liked the feel of those natural curls the best.

Having our own bathroom, between our room and the kids' room in the extension was a godsend. We could lock the door to the hallway from the inside, and the only other way in was our private entrance from our room, so we were guaranteed privacy. I watched her dress in front of the African queen painting, once again noticing how much she resembled the painting. No wonder Kenny had thought it was Shavonda on the wall.

She slipped into the gold dress I'd bought her last Christmas. Her weight had stabilized around 150, so she was able to fit in her old clothes even if they were tight, especially in the bust. We attributed most of the increased weight to her larger, milk laden breasts. Personally, I was happy with the way she'd recovered from childbirth so quickly. And I told her as we dressed just how beautiful she was. She remained my ebony goddess, the woman of my dreams.

After I dressed, in khakis and a flannel shirt, we returned to the living room to mingle with the guests. Ziggy was among them with his wife, and their two children. The kids had hit it off with mine, and they were in the backyard playing in the snow. Ziggy pulled us aside, and we went into Shavonda's old bedroom to talk.

"I wanted to thank you two for agreeing to testify in the case," he said. "The commander really wants this guy bad. He's pissed that Zone 5 chose to shove him off on us rather than deal with him. Von, it's because of you there is even going to be a trial."

"Me?" she asked incredulously. "What did I do? You guys got him in a sting. I had nothing to do with that."

"You're wrong there," Ziggy told her. "If he hadn't done what he did to you, there would have been no sting to catch him. The fact that you are a well-respected member of the community raised some eyebrows. I know often the police circle the wagons around our own, but officers like him give us all a black eye, and make our jobs harder."

"The defense is going to try their hardest to discredit you, I have to warn you. But your testimony, along with Jason's and mine, are going to go a long way toward buttressing your credibility. Many of the things you say can be corroborated by others testimony. But we needed you to tell your story. It's a brave thing you're doing, Von. The press will be all over this case. Usually they don't report the names of victims in cases like these, so you should be okay there."

"When she does this," I insisted, "I need to be there in the courtroom with her. She needs to know I am there."

"If we do that, you may not be able to testify," Ziggy said. "Maybe if we put your testimony first, you can sit in while Von is on the stand. But the DA won't like it, because it means he can't recall you to the stand if he needs to."

"I'm not going to let Von up there on the stand by herself. If I'm not allowed in the courtroom, I won't let her testify. Tell the DA that." I was adamant. My queen was going to put herself in a very vulnerable position, and they'd try to rip her to shreds on the stand. There was no way in hell she was going to face that alone.

We'd also talked to an attorney, and on his advice, we would have our own court reporter taking a transcript of the trial. That way, if we decided on a civil suit, we'd have our own copy of the trial to base our case upon. And personally, I felt that if my wife was going to have to relive the emotional trauma of that night, somebody was going to pay her for her trouble.

After we'd fed the guests pizza Shavonda had picked up earlier from Salvatore's, I led the guests downstairs to the game room. Shavonda and I had been working on a new song to perform. I was getting a lot better on the bass now that I was playing regularly, and one night when we were listening to Genesis's The Lamb lies down on Broadway, the song In the Cage caught our attention. It was an intricate song, especially on bass, that was mostly bass and keyboards. We thought we could do it justice once we learned our parts. Shavonda was pretty good on her synthesizer, certainly a lot better than I was on bass guitar, so I knew she could handle her part.

We started off with In the Cage, apologizing. "This is what we've been working on lately. It's a bit more complex than what we normally perform, but we hope you'll forgive any mistakes we make and just enjoy the song."

I started playing on the bass, a heartbeat pattern, ba bump, ba bump, as Shavonda let the keyboards wash over me. I started the song:

I got sunshine in my stomach

Like I just rocked my baby to sleep.

I got sunshine in my stomach

But I can't keep me from creeping sleep,

Sleep, deep in the deep.

Shavonda started an intricate little phrase, repeated over and over as I picked up the tempo on the bass. The chords I played were all over and definitely different progressions than what I was used to, but I kept my concentration and started the next verse:

Rockface moves to press my skin

White liquid turn sour within

Turn fast - turn sour

Turn sweat - turn sour.

Must tell myself that I'm not here.

I'm drowning in a liquid fear.

Bottled in a strong compression,

My distortion shows obsession

In the cave.

Get me out of this cave!

And so we went through the rest of the song. The recorded version ran over 8 minutes, and our version probably ran closer to ten, but we pulled it off. I was exhausted afterward, so we took a little break while I caught my breath. Playing prog took a lot out of me. I had gained a new respect for the virtuoso musicians that made it seem so effortless.

"That was fun," Shavonda said. "I really enjoyed learning that solo in the middle."

I laughed. "I never thought I'd see a black lady playing prog and enjoying it. You know you're not supposed to even like that music."

"Since when did I ever do what I was supposed to do?" Shavonda asked. "That's why we're so good together. You're the black sheep of your family too. We make our own rules as we go. The only people we have to please are each other."

When we started up again, we went straight to reggae with our Bob Marley songs. They were much easier to play, because all I had to do was follow the same chords and feel the rhythm. I was becoming more and more comfortable with my voice as well, and wound up doing most of the singing that night. We later performed some of Shavonda's favorites, the ones where she could let her voice shine soulfully. Macy Gray, Angie Stone. We were constantly learning new songs, working on one until we got it right, then choosing another to try. But we never attempted anything new the first time with guests. We wanted to entertain them with the songs we were competent at.

After a couple hours in the game room, we went back upstairs with the guests. Miracle had been asleep the whole time wrapped in her sling, sitting in the baby carrier. I strapped my princess to my body and took her upstairs with me. Shavonda was going to be busy playing the hostess tonight, a role she loved. The least I could do was look after our bundle of joy.

Eventually, I gathered everybody in the living room for an impromptu new year's toast. "Here's to 2013," I said. "It hasn't been the easiest year, but it has brought me happiness on a grand scale. I have a new wife, and a new baby. And my own children have come to live with me permanently. What more could I ask? And here's to 2014. May the new year be a safe and prosperous one for everybody here. May all of you find the happiness Shavonda has brought to my life."

A little before midnight, we got out the leftover fireworks we had from the fourth of July. Every year, we made the trek to Ohio to get the good stuff, and we always bought more than we needed. It was easy to get carried away and spend $300 in the store we went to. Then, with the store right on the border where the PA state police could watch who came and went, we'd take the safe route home. Turning left out of the parking lot, we'd continue deeper into Ohio, then circle back and cross the border on the back roads.

This year, we had a pretty decent assortment left, and at midnight, we lit up the neighborhood. Evidently, a couple others in the area had done the same thing, and with still others firing their guns in the air, it sounded like the battle of Fallujah. Somewhere, somebody else had a couple sticks of dynamite, and those blasts rocked the neighborhood, lighting up the night sky. The thought crossed my mind that if I had a stick of dynamite, I'd have made a snowman in the backyard and blown him up at midnight. I told Shavonda about that, and she said. "Jason! That is SO wrong!" But she was laughing all the same, probably picturing Frosty disintegrating in a blizzard of powder snow.

The party continued into the wee hours, with most of us quite tipsy by that time. Somebody got the bright idea to bring in the new year on the railroad, and we drunkenly attempted to run trains on a single-track line with all six controllers in use. We had a few sideswipe accidents where trains tried to pass each other before one of them was fully pulled off in the siding. But we only had one head on collision, when Ziggy forgot to go into the siding and ran into Brian coming the other way. I immediately found a couple of empty solo cups, and handed each one. "I need to inveshtigate this acshident," I slurred. "I heard there are drunksh running my trainsh." Everybody laughed. We'd pay for this in the morning.

Those who didn't feel like driving and couldn't get a cab were invited to stay the night. Next morning, Althea whipped us up some bacon and eggs for breakfast. I also had plenty of tomato juice on hand to help with the hangovers. I let Shavonda sleep in, changing and feeding Miracle while she slept. When she got up, she seemed none the worse for wear, and insisted on wearing the baby. It was midafternoon before all the guests left, and we finally had the house to ourselves.

The next Saturday was Miracle's baptism at the church, and afterward everybody gathered at our house for the christening party. We didn't have the church people over to the house much, but they were good house guests, and really made the day special. And it was amazing how they treated me as one of their own. I was almost completely accepted by those around me, and it occurred to me that had I packed Shavonda off to live with me in Appalachia, I doubt she'd have been welcomed like this. We were far better off where we were, only visiting the place I once called home. That didn't mean I didn't still, after 13 years, miss living in the mountains. At least if I had to live in the city, I was fortunate enough to live on 2 acres of land on a dead-end street, with nothing but woods on the other side. Shavonda's home was quiet and private, unlike my old house.

That week, we had to take Wednesday off so we could attend our deposition before the trial. Our attorney accompanied us to the site, along with a representative from the DA's office. In the deposition room, we were met with the defense attorney. Each of us was interviewed in a small room while the other waited outside. Our attorney advised us to tell the truth, but not to volunteer any information.

The depositions were rough, with a lot of questions asked in several different ways to try and trip us up. But since we were both telling the truth, there were few places where they could confuse us. Both our attorney and the DA's representative had told us to stand our ground, and not let the defense put words in our mouth. We had the right to correct any misstatements they attributed to us. And we did hold our ground and correct them when we felt their restatement of what we said was misleading.

Afterward, we were emotionally exhausted, and we headed straight home where Althea was awaiting the school bus dropping Brittany off. It was a nice enough day that she could wait on the porch. Just before we pulled up to the house, I noticed a police car with its lights on behind us. As I pulled up in front of the house, he pulled in behind us and told me to get back in the car when I got out. "I thought I told you I didn't want to see you in this neighborhood again," he said. "Get back in the car."

"Jason, is anything wrong?" Althea called down from the porch.

"What do you mean I can't be in this neighborhood," I said, realizing this was the same cop that had pulled me over last year when I was on my way to Shavonda's house. "I live here." I handed him my driver's license, with the updated address. "Althea," I called up to the porch. "Call 9-1-1 and tell them I'm being harassed."

"Tell her to go inside the house," the cop said.

"Why?" I asked. "None of us has done anything wrong. She's my mother in law and she's concerned about me and my wife and baby."

I half expected him to try and handcuff me, and arrest me for disorderly conduct. But he didn't. Evidently when he looked at my license and the address he thought better of it. For whatever reason, I was glad he backed off. He returned to his car and ran my ID, and, finding nothing on me, returned and gave me my license back.

Meanwhile, Shavonda had gotten out of the Jeep, and was asking the cop what we had done.

"Nothing," he said. "It's all a misunderstanding."

"Then would you mind coming up on the porch with me?" I asked. "I have something to show you."

He followed me up the steps, where Shavonda and Althea stood. I pointed to the window pane in the front door, where we'd mounted the stained-glass window I'd made. "Would you care to read that window?" I asked.

"Shavonda and Jason forever," he read. "Is Shavonda your wife?"

"I certainly am," she replied proudly. "And I've lived here for years. Matter of fact, you pulled Jason over last year not far from here, correct?"

"Yes, I did. I recognized the car and plate." The officer stated this uneasily.

"Jason was following me home that night. I pulled over and watched you stop him," Shavonda was a little perturbed. "He has every right to be here, because he's with me. And I am a well-respected business owner. We're not the sort of people you want to drive out of this neighborhood. Do you really want us to move and rent this house to a crackhead?"

"No, ma'am." The officer seemed apologetic now.

"If you want I can call the mayor's office and complain," Shavonda had him on the defensive and they both knew it. "Now if Jason's broken any traffic laws, he'll gladly pay the ticket. Is that what you stopped us for?"

"No, ma'am." The officer said.

"Then you admit this stop was purely to intimidate us?"

"I'm not answering that, ma'am."

"You don't have to. If your stop had been legitimate, you'd have cited Jason. You haven't because he did nothing wrong. And you are violating our constitutional rights to freedom of movement." Shavonda was playing lawyer now, and clearly had the officer disoriented. He couldn't use force against us because of Althea. Plus, we had a security camera on the house, which Althea had tripped when she went in the house earlier. But he didn't know that.

It occurred to me that it was a shame we had to resort to tactics like this to protect ourselves. All we wanted was to be left alone to live our lives. But one never knew when things would turn bad for an interracial couple in a city that still hadn't fully accepted us. We had no illusions as to why I was being pulled over. I was a white man in a predominately black neighborhood, and thus viewed with suspicion. The fact that I had a black woman in the car with me was even more suspicious to some. Never mind that she was my wife.

We had painted the officer into a corner. He couldn't act against us, and he had no defense against our charge of harassment. So, he got back in the car. I rubbed it in a little. "Next time you're in the neighborhood, stop by for some Kool aid," I said as he drove off.

Shavonda and Althea both breathed a sigh of relief as I came in the front door. "I am so sick of this," I said. "Where can we go that nobody will bother us?"

"There is nowhere, Jason," Althea said sadly. "We've dealt with it all our lives. It's a lot better now than it was. But as long as you're with us, it'll happen to you too."

"I ain't going anywhere. I've got my family here," I was livid. "How dare they harass us because they don't think we should be together. I don't meddle in their private lives."

"Jason, boo," Shavonda said soothingly. "You know how it is. We've been through this many times before. You have to let it go or it will eat you alive. And we need you here. We need the gentle, loving man I've come to rely on. I don't need a bitter man who hates the world."

"Speaking of which," Althea said, "This came in the mail for you." She handed me a letter addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Jason Waite, with a California postmark. I opened the letter and read it out loud.

"Dear Jason and Von,

I am truly sorry about the way I acted at your house Christmas day. I didn't want to see Von hurt, and I overreacted before I knew you, Jason. Tina told me how the first thing you did after our argument was to pick up and feed Miracle so Von didn't have to. She also told me how you helped cook the meal. She said she watched you the whole time, and that you put concern about Von and the baby above everything else. I know my parents and Shaunice think the world of you, to the point where they took your side instead of mine. I also noticed the way Von looks at you like you are her world. I am glad she has found true love with a man who obviously worships the ground she walks on. So please accept my apology for the way I treated you, and I hope we can get beyond that and be friendly toward each other in the future. Know that if you two ever get to Stockton, you are welcome in our house.

Love,

Marcus and Tina Jenkins"

"See, I told you he'd come around," Althea said proudly. "We didn't raise him like that. He's a good kid, who's made a good living for himself out west. We're hoping he'll give us grandbabies, but you beat him to it. Honestly, I never thought my first would be from Von."

"That's not the point," I said sadly. "Althea, you know I love you like my own mother. In fact, you're kinda her surrogate since I can't be with her that often. And you had every right to question my motives when we first met. But after all we've been through it hurts that I still have to prove myself every time I meet another member of the family. Where does it all end?"

"Marcus was the only one you hadn't met yet, in the immediate family," Althea told me, trying to comfort me. "You passed every test put to you. Nobody questions the love you and Von have. Not anymore." She continued, "I only saw love like yours one time before. That was James' parents. The ones who lived in this very house. They loved each other so much that when he died, a part of her died with him, and she wasted away in her grief. That's what I see with you two. You so much a part of each other that neither would last long without the other. She the air you breathe. You the water she drink. You don't just love each other, you need each other to survive. And that means that when something threatens her, you fight for her. And she do the same for you. I've seen it. It happened with Rose where she put her freedom at risk to defend you. It happened with you too, with Marcus. And with your Grandma. Von's also told me about the times you two were stopped by the police, and how she hoped you wouldn't do anything stupid on her behalf. I saw it just now, outside. Marcus ain't been here. He never met you. He didn't know what we know. And he was wrong. He has admitted it. You wait. Next time he sees you, you be the brother he never had."