Love Knows No Color Pt. 05

"Hi," she waved.

Tongue tied, he gave a little wave back. Then handed us our food and change. We drove off before he could say anything.

"It's a wonder he didn't give you your change AND your twenty," she laughed. "You scarred him for life."

"Maybe after seeing you he'll go black and won't go back," I joked. "Just like I did. God, you have the perfect body."

We drove on, windows starting to fog. I spotted a Family Dollar and pulled in a secluded part of the lot, away from the other cars. "What size?" I asked.

"36C," she replied.

I bought her a purple bra and panty set, some sweat pants and a tee shirt that said, "I only listen when the voices in my head tell me to."

She quickly changed into the dry clothes, and we ate our meal in the car in the parking lot. We spent the afternoon driving around the vineyards of far western New York, before heading for home. It was still raining.

We took a shower, and washed the sand out of each other's hair. Afterward, she dried and brushed my hair, then braided my tail. "I love your hair," she said. "This never gets old." We both had work the next day, so we wound up sleeping naked cuddled in each other's arms. She loved sleeping naked, she told me. I did too.

"Thank you for a wonderful day," she said dreamily. "I had no idea the beach was so close." She may have been here with me but her head was still on that beach making love.

Our relationship was evolving further. Her things worked their way incessantly into my house. My dresser and the bathroom were now home to a wide variety of lotions, hair products, and sprays. Her dresses took over my closet. A pitcher of what she called "ghetto Kool aid" was a constant fixture in my refrigerator. Moreover, I'd gotten used to its extreme sweetness, and found I liked it.

I found myself picking up words and phrases she said, stressing other words the way she did. She picked up some of my "hillbilly" pronunciations as well, saying "fur" for four, and "tar" for tire. Though we reveled in our differences, we were becoming more and more alike.

Shavonda's friends began to visit her at my house. We'd sit around and play rummy or Uno. Me at a table with several black women all cutting up, sharing a bottle of wine or E&J.

Our love life evolved as well. The frantic rush of the early days gave way to a more sustainable pace. We were effectively living together by this point, alternating between our two houses. While we were spending every night together, the need for penetration and release was diminishing, replaced by the burning need for physical contact. We held hands all the time. We cuddled on the couch and in the bed. We massaged each other's backs and gave each other baths, all without it ending in sex. Don't get me wrong, we were still very much attracted to each other, and the sex life was still great, just not as frequent.

Shavonda was juggling many things with her shop. She was actively scouting locations for the second store, getting ready for the Ren Fests, and looking for at least one new employee to train. All of this was taking a toll on her, and she was irritable. I tried my best to give her back and foot massages to help soothe her, but with the hours I was putting in at work, up to 14 a day, I wasn't in any better shape than she was.

Added to that was the certified letter I got in the mail. Rose was looking for an increase in child support, citing "material change in income." The hearing was set for mid-September. Shavonda was livid. "What change in income?" she said angrily. "You aren't making any more money."

The kids loved her, and she loved them back. They were developing a strong bond, just as I'd hoped they would. Shavonda always went with me when we picked them up, and they would run out to the Jeep excitedly screaming her name, while Rose glared from the doorway. On Sunday evenings, we did the same in reverse, the kids running to their mother while Rose and Shavonda glared at each other.

It came to a head one train night. We had 6 people total that night. Fred and Vince joined us. Vince was one of the regulars, who had helped my build the railroad along with Danny and Ziggy. The first inkling of trouble was at the beginning of the evening, when we were assigning runs. Shavonda, as usual, asked for the Allen turn. Vince lodged a protest.

"She always has that run. Why doesn't she let somebody else have it for a change?" he whined.

I had to admit he had a point. Before Shavonda joined out group, we used to rotate that run between me, Danny and Ziggy. But Vince had never showed the least interest in it before, preferring the mainline freights. To be honest, Vince wasn't cut out for that job in the first place. It required problem solving skills he didn't have. So, I was surprised by his reaction. Still, I was ready to give him a hot at the run and let Shavonda run something else.

"I guess you got to blow somebody around here to get the run you want. Sorry I don't have big lips," he added.

"Oh no he didn't," sputtered Shavonda, "Jason you better get your boy before I smack the taste outa his mouth." She took a step toward him, arm raised. The others looked on in shock.

Quickly jumping between them, I sternly told Vince, "This is MY house. You respect it and everybody in it. How dare you talk about my lady like that in front of everybody!" I pronounced 'dare as 'day-er' instead of "deer" like I normally would. Another of Shavonda's subtle influences I guess. "Don't you EVER disrespect her again!"

"No, I'm going to be a lady and be the big one around here," Shavonda said. "Vince you can have that run. Show us what you got. Can't let the buh-lack girl show you up." She deftly goaded Vince into accepting a run he had had no intention of taking. He looked like a deer in the headlights.

We divvied up the rest of the runs before I made an announcement, "Since Vince got Von's run, tonight she will be dispatcher trainee." I rubbed a little salt in the wound. Every move Vince made tonight, he would have to ask Shavonda's permission.

I told her to be nice and take it easy on Vince, that he was in over his head. "I know," she replied evilly. She did her best to give him permission when he asked, but no advice. By the end of the night he had hopelessly buried himself in Allen. He had way too many cars in town, and couldn't move what he needed to move. When we all headed upstairs to the living room he turned to leave in frustration.

"Vince, before you go, I want to show you something," I said turning to Shavonda. "Von hand me your pendant" She'd worn a handmade Navajo pendant, which hung nicely in the cleavage of her dress. She lifted the pendant over her head and handed it to me. I handed it to Vince.

"Would you agree this is a well-made piece?"

"Yes, it is," he replied not sure where I was headed. He ran his finger over the smooth multicolored surface.

"There are about 12 different pieces to this pendant," I said, handing it to Danny to pass around to the others. They all wanted a look at it. "Shavonda makes these and sells them. Every different color is a separate stone. She cuts them so they fit perfectly, then polishes them smooth. If you didn't know you'd think it was all one piece. That is who she is. She's worked hard for everything she has, and didn't need to blow anybody to get where she is."

"Never assume you know about somebody you've never taken the time to get to know," I said, seeing him out the door.

"I don't want him back here," Shavonda growled.

"He won't be. Don't worry, boo."

"What just happened?" asked Fred.

"Von, should I tell him or do you want to?" I asked.

"I will," she replied. "When Vince made the blowjob comment he insulted my womanhood. But he didn't stop there. He picked one of the defining features of my race to further try to humiliate me, my lips. Every day I deal with people like that. Usually I don't let it bother me. But this house is like a sanctuary to me. It is the one place, outside of my own house and my family, where I can escape bullshit like that. He brought that shit here. He didn't have to go there. He did anyway. I was a lady tonight. Jason put me in a position where I could have stuffed his train in a siding and forgot about it. Lord knows, I wanted to. But I was professional. I sucked it up."

"And if you had shoved him off in a siding, I wouldn't have stopped you," I said warmly.

"I'd have hit him," Ziggy said. "Nobody talks to my wife like that."

"The point is, Von is probably as smart as, if not smarter than anybody here tonight. She is beautiful, and she works hard. She is kind. She's never said a bad word about any of you, whether you were here or not. None of that mattered to Vince." I turned to Shavonda, and took her hands. "Von, you know this house and everything in it is yours. I never want you to feel uncomfortable here again."

"Wow," said Danny. "You really do love her."

"She is my world, Danny. I'm very fortunate she let me into hers."

My birthday came in early August. James and Althea hosted a small cookout in my honor. "You're family now," he said. We all sat out in the backyard, eating burgers and hot dogs, drinking beer. They had a birthday cake for me. Nobody has celebrated my birthday like that since I was a kid.

Later, we sat at the table with Velma and Tamika as Shavonda planned her next moves with the store. "I want Jason to sit in on this discussion," she told them. "He has an important role to play. I'm making him a consultant."

The photographs were selling nicely. Shavonda had taken the photo of us at the New River bridge, and cropped it so that just the two of us were in the shot. The way we were leaning back from each other, heads bent as we gazed at each other vaguely resembled a heart. She'd printed the cropped photo in black and white, with the legend 'Love Knows No Color." A blown up, poster sized version now hung in the window of the store, and this photo was outselling all others. I could understand why. Printed in black and white it was a powerful statement.

The search for the second store location had to take a backseat to preparations for the Ren Fests. Shavonda and Tamika would be handling the weekends at the fests, where she had reserved vendor's booths. Velma would hold down the store on the weekend as normal. She was Shavonda's second in command, and when the second store opened would be in charge of the original store while Shavonda got the second store up and running. Tamika would be trained to take over as weekend manager, and alternate between the two stores to give Shavonda and Velma two days off each. A fourth employee was needed, asap, to be trained at the store by Velma while we worked the fests. Word had been put out at the church and three candidates had responded. They were to be interviewed this coming week.

Since Shavonda wanted my input on the new hires, she planned on taping the interviews and playing them back for me in the evening after work. Velma would sit in with Shavonda on those interviews.

The first Ren fest was next weekend. Fortunately, I didn't have the kids, so I could go and help out. Then there would be a break of one weekend, before the big festival. It ran 6 weekends, and would take us to the end of September. I suggested they look into the fall festival at Bedford in October as well.

The store had a company van and a storage space. The ladies planned to load up the van on Friday, then swing by my house to pick me up. We'd go to the motel Friday night, then set up the booth early Saturday morning before the festival opened. "One last thing," Shavonda said. She handed me a bag with medieval garb. "This will be your outfit for the fests, Jason. Regalia is good for sales." She handed me a small box. "I'd also like you to wear this. I made it especially for you."

I opened the box. Inside was a pendant, a Celtic cross. I was touched. "Happy Birthday, boo," she said. "That is not part of the outfit. Wear it whenever you like."

My mom also called to wish me a happy birthday. She asked about Shavonda. I told her everything was going well. I asked about Grandma.

"She likes Von a lot. She loves the way she sings. Von is smart, funny, and well mannered. But she still doesn't think you two should be dating," she said after a pause.

"Would she want me to marry her if Von where white?" I asked pointedly.

"You'd be crazy not to. Grandma knows that. But to her, Von is, well, colored," Mom replied. It hurt that the only reason Von wasn't fully accepted was her race. "Wait, did you just say you two were engaged?"

"Well, tell Grandma to pretend Von's white. And no, we're not engaged. At least not yet. I want to marry her, but it is too soon to ask. I am thinking sometime after the first of the year I will propose to her. I have a ring on layaway. And when I do, Grandma's just going to have to accept it."

The week went quickly. Shavonda texted me a photo of her in her wench outfit. "Can't wait for this weekend," read the text. The next evening, Velma came over and the three of us reviewed the taped interviews. We decided on a young woman named Nykole, who seemed to have an interest in crafts. The other two interviewees were almost as good as Nykole, so I suggested we keep them in mind for future openings, When the second store opened we were going to need six people to staff both locations. Velma called Nykole and told her the good news, and told her to report Saturday for training.

On Friday, I had enough time to jump in the shower before Shavonda and Tamika rolled up in the van. I had packed my bag the night before, so we were quickly on our way. Since there were only two seats in the van, Tamika drove while Von sat on my lap. "You two play nice over there," Tamika said. "I don't want to wreck this thing." Luckily, it was only about 50 miles to the motel.

Tamika had talked Von into booking two rooms, adjacent to each other. We unloaded our bags, went to our respective rooms. In a few minutes, Tamika knocked on our door, bottle of rum in hand. "Von told me you like this," she said. We ordered a pizza from a nearby shop, and, when it came the three of us sat on the bed, drinking rum, eating pizza and playing Uno until after midnight.

The next morning, the 3 of us, dressed in regalia, went to the festival site and set up our booth. The jewelry was stacked in the van in flat wooden cases with glass tops. We set these on the table at the front of the booth. Some of the less expensive necklaces and pendants were hung from a cord we strung above the table. 3 folding chairs gave us each a place to sit. As an added touch, a framed 8x10 print of the 'Love Knows No Color' photo sat on the table near where Shavonda kept the cash box hidden.

"We come up here with more than one person so that we have a chance to walk around and see what's here. One of us will always be at the booth, the other can roam the festival," Shavonda explained. We all sat in the booth as the fair opened and people started to browse by. By late afternoon, sales were brisk. People loved the handcrafted jewelry. We also got a number of comments on the photo, all positive. We even took orders for a couple of prints. Tamika had taken a break, and soon came back with a turkey leg in hand. "These are good," she told me. "You two should go get you some."

Hand in hand, we left Tamika manning the booth. We found the food vendors, and soon we each had our own turkey legs. Exploring the festival, we stopped to watch a jousting tournament. It was strange seeing how deftly they could maneuver their horses in the fenced off area. It was a unique experience, made even more special because of Shavonda.

After the festival closed for the day, we loaded the cases back into the van and headed back to the motel. On the way, we found a diner and got our food take out. The Saturday special was baked steak. Smothered in gravy, with gravy fries, it was delicious. Shavonda had what I had, plus a salad. Tamika ordered spaghetti. We ate our meal back in our room, drinking rum and playing Uno again.

Sunday was a repeat of Saturday. As a matter of fact, the festivals we went to would all fall into a similar pattern. But the sales were good, and Shavonda was using the money from the Ren Fests to finance the opening of the new store. All she needed to do was find an affordable place in an area frequented by people interested in what she had to sell. Through it all, I was made to feel like an equal partner.

That Monday, coming home from work on an early day, I found a letter from the Family Courts. They were trying to get a wage attachment from Norfolk Southern. Funny, I thought, I'd never worked for the railroad. I wondered where they got the idea that I did. This would be the first of a series of letters from the courts seeking wage attachments from places I'd never worked.

We picked up the kids the next Saturday. As usual, Rose and Shavonda had their staring contest. Neither one would blink. It was obvious they hated each other. It was especially profound considering Shavonda didn't hate anybody. I remembered what Shavonda had said on our first morning together about the power of words to destroy a relationship. I was seeing it firsthand. Shavonda had been willing to respect Rose, until Rose had called her names in front of the whole street. Now it was personal.

The kids were, as usual, dressed in raggedy clothes so we made our usual trip to Target to buy them better outfits. I was a bit pissed that the outfits I had been buying them were not coming with them when they stayed over. I had the feeling I was being played for a sucker, but these were my kids.

We ended up in the park. Shavonda had on a t shirt and a pair of red shorts that day, instead of the usual sun dress, and she took full advantage of that fact. She chased the kids around, occasionally catching one and tickling them. I had my camera out, shooting pictures of their play. One shot in particular stood out. Shavonda had caught Ethan, and had picked him up. She held him at eye level, both were laughing as they looked at each other. When I showed her the photo later that evening, she said, "That's another one. That's another 'Love knows no color' photo." She was, as usual, right. There she was, dark-skinned with natural hair, holding a small white child with blonde hair almost as light as his skin. They obviously adored one another. We printed it in black and white for better contrast.

Sunday, we took the kids to visit Shavonda's friend Patty. Patty was one of the group we played cards with, a good-looking woman with wide set eyes and a beautiful smile. As a single mother, she had a couple of children herself who were about the same age as Brittany and Ethan. We watched the kids play in the backyard chasing a soccer ball around. Patty also had a dog, a Labrador who loved the kids. He was protective of them, and if somebody hit somebody else he barked in protest.

In the evening, when we dropped off the kids, Rose was waiting as usual. At Shavonda's request, the kids had changed back into their raggedy clothes. Rose was not pleased. Evidently, she thought we would keep sending her new clothes, while she sent us rags. She yelled at the kids as they went in the house. You could see her voice just suck all the joy out of them as they disappeared inside. "That woman is pure evil," Shavonda said sadly. "She's going to cause us a lot of trouble."

We accidentally discovered a way to fight back against racial profiling one evening at Walmart. Shavonda needed to get some things, so we went over to the Waterworks Mall. Once in Walmart, I left her to use the bathroom. Once done, I roamed the store looking for her. She wasn't hard to find, in those short shorts and v neck shirt. I just looked for the most beautiful legs in the world.

But I also noticed something else. A man, dressed in casual clothing, appeared to be following her around the store. I'd noticed him before I got near Shavonda so I hung back and watched him. He was so busy watching her he didn't notice me. She, being very aware of her surroundings, had noticed him as well and was purposely looking at items on lower shelves, bent over and wiggling her ass at him. Every so often he appeared to be talking into a radio. That was it! Plainclothes security!