Colors of August

Colors of August Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The year was 1967. It was August.

The first thing I notice is the sweltering heat as I get picked up by my Uncle's driver in Birmingham. I peel off my knit shirt which is sticking to my skin. Ma told me not to pack it but that was my problem. I was stubborn.

"The girls in the south will love you, Mr. Crawford," Peter, my driver says.

He's a white man in his mid 30s maybe. I was white too but for some reason we both had a deep tan. Mine had come from playing Tennis up North. I've just turned 21. His eyes are glued on my biceps and the way my wet undershirt sticks to my skin with sweat. The biceps and my muscular frame had come from tennis as well. I'd seen the stare he gives me before. It's this silent appreciation of a muscular man. I was from a suburb in Pennsylvania right outside of Philadelphia. I'd never been down south until now. However in Philadelphia I knew there was a bar. No one talked about it, but I remember my friend Johnny told me it was `sissy' bar. I'd been so confused. Things like that weren't legal up north. It was supposed to be a big secret, but everyone seemed to know what it was. Everyone seemed disgusted. Everyone but me.

Every time I went back to Philadelphia I'd walk past that bar, intentionally,  too scared to go in, but feeling a sense of belonging when I noticed the stares of the men who frequented that bar.

"I'm no Mr. Crawford man.  August is fine."

"You're a Crawford sir. In Birmingham all Crawfords are misters...no matter what age," my driver explains.

He gives me a smile. His tongue quickly wipes past his lips and I can see his eyes staring at me in the mirror. This wasn't the first time a man appreciated my beauty. No where near. I was attractive——as hell, and I'm not being conceited by saying that. It was just a fact. I had that `ideal' beauty that people think of. I looked like the guy in the Retro shows.

I had blonde hair that was obnoxiously yellow and a sharp tapered face. I didn't have facial hair but I did have stubble. No one feature makes me so handsome, though I'd say my eyes come close. People often speak of the colour of eyes, as if that were of importance, yet mine changed colors depending on the light. Some days they were green, some days blue and some days hazel. My ex-girlfriend Alli said my eyes would be beautiful in any shade. Looks didn't matter to me. What was important was intensity, honesty, gentleness. At 21, I was just understanding what it meant to be a man. Perhaps this is what is meant by a gentleman, not one of weakness or politeness, but one of great spirit and noble ways. What I am, what is beautiful about me, comes from deep within.

We pull up to the Crawford home. Ma said my Uncle Charlie had money but pulling up to this house I had no idea it was anything like this.

I reach out to get my bags but I'm stopped by the driver, "I'll get those for you, Mr. Crawford."

"It's really OK."

"I insist."

He rubs past my hands slowly. His fingers intertangling with mine as he gets my luggage from me. It's more flirtation. Definitely more flirtation. I flash him a smile. He's not a bad looking guy.

"Is that you August?" a voice interrupts our flirt, "Well look at my nephew. Margeret didn't tell me you were so gosh darn handsome."

Gosh darn?  I was definitely in the south.

I'm approached by the person who I assume is my Aunt Loribeth. I'd never met Loribeth before but I'd spoken to her several times. She's plump, round and has breasts that are as big as watermelons. She has a bright smile on her face. When she walks to me she's all fat and happiness.

"Happy to be here ma'am," I tell her.

"I was jus' fixin' to get supper ready," she tells me with a toothy grin, "Come on in. Your cousins and `em can't wait to see ya."

I hardly make out what she says with her accent.

She starts to the house. As we walk a part of me is dazed by the mere size of the house. A classic white-columned Antebellum Southern mansion. It's walking to that house that I first see him.

Him.

The first thing I'd noticed was his blackness. He was a colored boy. In the suburbs I grew up in I'd never met a colored person until high school, but my parents had always taught me all people were created equal. He's working in the gardens. He is surrounded by a bed of flowers and has his shirt off. He's slim, slightly shorter than me but just as sweaty. He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. I guess he must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course the blush in my cheeks that accompanied it was a dead give-away. He made me forget the driver. All of a sudden everyone in the world was mediocre, including my ex girlfriend Alli who Ma thought was the most beautiful girl in the world. He gives me a nod. It's a modest nod.

He wasn't aware of his beauty. His dark black skin was like chocolate. Literally. He was so dark that you had to stare at him to really understand how handsome he was and I'm literally staring.

Who...

Was...

He?

"Come on now August, stop being a slowpoke," Aunt Loribeth states.

Being called a slowpoke by a woman whose breasts moved faster than she did.   I sigh.

The home has an eeriness to it. It feels like a plantation from the past. It includes a gabled roof; evenly-spaced windows; Greek-type pillars and columns. There are all these elaborate balconies and covered porches. As I walk into the central entryway I see a grand staircase.Off to the side, I can see a formal ballroom.

"There he is!" a voice states.

Immediately I'm approached by the only one in the house I had met. June Bug. His real name was June. Our parents thought it would be cool to name us after the months we were born. He was just a few months older than me. June Bug was my cousin and Aunt Loribeth's oldest boy. He'd come up to the North for college and stayed with us for a time. Ma always said we could be like twins. Even though he was older, June Bug was shorter than me standing at 6'0" while I was around 6'2". His eyes were also just green but besides that there was an uncanny resemblance. We could have been brothers.

I give June Bug a hug. It feels good. Not too far from him was another. I knew who he was even though I'd never met him.

It was Chuck.

Chuck was handsome in his own way. His real name was Charlie Crawford Jr. He had brown hair and dark set eyes. He has a real serious look on his face and he reminds me of Uncle Charlie who was my father's older brother. I'd seen Uncle Charlie in pictures with my father and he'd looked the same as Chuck.

"Nice to meet you," he says stretching his hand out. "Welcome to Birmingham."

He doesn't give me a hug like June Bug but he gives me a nod. A serious nod and a strong handshake.  He's definitely different from his brother. He's not friendly in the least but he's proper. I give him a nod back hoping to God that June Bug will save me.

"Nice to meet you as well."

Another nod. What the hell was wrong with his head?

"It's beautiful out here," I tell Chuck, "And the house is beautiful as well. The flowers outside...the gardener was doing such a good job. I should compliment him. What's his name?"

"Don't worry about him," Chuck says, "He's the help. Besides, it's no matter, he's already gone for the day anyway."

Chuck seems irritated with the fact that I brought up the colored gardener in his presence.  For such a handsome guy he definitely seems to be a bit uptight.

"I was just trying for that Southern hospitality."

"That doesn't apply to those people. They aren't too civilized, y'know?"

I'm shocked.

"I met a few in the North that didn't seem too bad."

"Oh did you? Is that how it is in the North?" he asks.

"Definitely a big...eh...culture shock," I state.

Just at that moment, I notice `the help'. The beautiful boy outside wasn't the only one in this house. There were others as well. Several negro women in specific uniforms seem to be preparing the table. I watch as Aunt Loribeth is ordering them around. I notice something different too. All that happiness and smile seem to fade away when Aunt Loribeth is ordering them around.

"Hurry up, ya'll. Don't keep my nephew waiting. I don't keep you waiting for your pay now do I?" Aunt Loribeth is telling the ladies.

I guess this is what she meant by `preparing the food'.

"Heard it told you guys have race riots," my cousin asks me.

Not the nice cousin. The bobblehead.

"You must be talking about what happened in Detroit. Yeah. It's a shame man," I state.

Chuck states finally putting up some sort of half, almost backwards smile, "It's a damn shame. Send me and my boys up there. We'll take care of your niggers for you."

Take care. That's what he says. Take care...

Ma had warned me about this too. The racism. The stock difference in tone is almost shocking though. He glares at me after he says that as though waiting for me to respond. I don't know what kind of response he's waiting for but he won't let my eyes go.

June Bug saves me at that moment, "Come on August. I need to introduce you to my fiancée," he states before whispering to me when we get far enough from his younger brother, "And save you from that asshole..."

~

"He's handsome, isn't he Carol?"

The dinner table is definitely southern. Somewhere during the Southern Fried Steak, cornbread, collard greens, sausage gravy and cobbler I am introduced to Mary Flannery who is the betrothed of my cousin June Bug. She hasn't come to dinner alone. She has her friend Carol along with her. They are both relatively pretty girls. It's odd that they are at the dinner though. Uncle Charlie seems to be the only one missing.

"He is. You Northern boys are so intriguing," Carol states.

"There's nothing like the South," Chuck argues.

He says it and then gives me a look. It's been happening all night. Carol is sitting next to me. I don't know if she chose to sit here or if she was purposely placed there. Either way, she has been giggling like a school girl about me all night and I think it's starting to get under my cousin Chuck's skin. Honestly, it's starting to get under mine as well.

"I want to hear all about the North," Carol states, "You should take me with you when you head back."

I try to play nice with her, "Maybe. Uncle Charlie says he has a job for me down here so it might be a while before I head back."

"Charlie will be staying with us for a few months," Aunt Loribeth states, "I'm sure you all will show him around."

"I'd love to, Mrs. Crawford," Carol states.

I can't help but notice the gleeful smile on Aunt Loribeth's face. It was all weird. Real weird. I don't understand what's happening.

The dinner carries on like this until Uncle Charlie comes in. Aunt Loribeth is so excited she damn near jumps up off the table, but he pays her no mind at all. He is a stern looking man and doesn't really even greet anyone when he arrives at the dinner table. As soon as he arrives one of the negro ladies comes to the table and pours him some whiskey in his glass. He gives me a nod while drinking the whiskey. The same kind of nod that Chuck gave me earlier. He's a tall stoic figure and I think he even makes the girls a little uncomfortable.

Out of nowhere, mid-dinner he just turns to me and says, "August can I see you in my study please..."

His study is as serious as he is. It's really intimidating, to say the least. A large Confederate flag hangs behind him. When I get in there he seems to be reading something in one of his newspapers. He doesn't put it down when I walk in. For a few minutes, I'm just sitting there like a bumpkin while he reads his newspaper.

Finally, he puts it down, stares at me, and picks up his glass of whiskey.

"Carol done taken a likin' to you," He says out of nowhere.

Weird way to start a conversation.

"She's a nice girl," I respond.

"Your parents tell me you want to travel to London. They say you want to train out there to be a professional tennis player," he states.

He doesn't sound impressed.

"Yes sir, Uncle Charlie. It's my dream. It's all I want in the world. I was hoping that I can save enough money working for your company to go."

Uncle Charlie had a textile company. It's one of the biggest in the south. It was my Dad who suggested I reach out to him when I found the Tennis school in London. It was one of the best schools in the world. It was also one of the most expensive. I needed the money one way or another and Uncle Charlie would definitely help.

"You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

I'm confused.

"Sir?"

"Carol's father is Roger Millwood. Do you know who that is?"

Why were we talking about Carol again?

"No sir..."

"He's an investor. He wants his girl to settles down with a nice young man," he explains to me, "You did enjoy Carol's time right?"

Just all of a sudden, it clicks. There had to be a reason Carol was here. The way that Aunt Loribeth smiled every time Carol and I spoke at the table. The way that everyone was so eager for me to meet her.

"The job you had for me...it had nothing to do with the textile company, did it?" I ask him.

Uncle Charlie picks up his newspaper, "I need someone I can trust. Someone loyal. I needed family. Keep her entertained this fall; you'll have enough to go to London and much more. I'll leave you one of the cars for your conquests."

Conquest? Conquest!

I don't know how to feel. I leave Uncle Charlie's office knowing I didn't even really have a choice. I needed to go to London. That was what I wanted most in this world. I walk back to the dinner table and I just sit there. Conversation is happening all over me. Uncle Charlie had brought me down south for one thing and one thing only. Carol. He had two sons already. I guess June Bug was already engaged and Chuck had the personality of a dried up raisin.

I look around the table.  Can they see my fear?

I didn't even like girls. In this day and age though...I didn't have a choice. Being a sissy like those guys at that bar wasn't an option.

I couldn't possibly fool this girl into liking me, just for my Uncle's business dealings.

Right?

Wrong.

"Would you like to go out tonight?" I ask Carol.

~

Before I know it we are in a 1963 Chevy Corvette Stingray. It's yellow. A beautiful shade of yellow too. The horsepower was amazing as I speed through the streets of downtown Birmingham with Carol at my side. I find the goddam car more attractive then I do the girl next to me who hasn't stopped staring at me since I've gotten in the car and definitely hasn't stopped talking.

We stop at a red light and Carol gets a little closer, "There are no real places to go in Birmingham. Not like up North. I want to go to Regine's, Le Club, Shepheard's, Cheetah. I want you to teach me the Mashed Potato, the Fly, the Monkey and the Funky Chicken."

She puts emphasis on the Funky Chicken as though learning the dance was her dying wish.

"What does a fine southern girl like you know about all that?" I ask.

"I can be a bad girl," Carol states, "A bad girl just like those Northern girls."

I watch at that moment as Carol starts touching my inner thigh. She rubs it slowly. I'm shocked. This girl definitely had a wild side to her hidden underneath all that rich Southern girl demeanor. She almost gets straight up to my crotch and feels my dick.

I see her blush.

"Carol."

"My lord, it's so big," she states.

Her eyes look almost buggy as she realizes the size and girth of my dick. She tries to squeeze it, groping me as though I'm already her property. The more I think about it the more I just get so turned off at that moment. I push her away hard.

"I can't..." I respond.

She looks at me hard, "You can't?"

"I can't."

There is a pause. I start driving. I don't know where I'm going but I see her eyes burning a hole into me the entire time. It's almost as though she's studying me or something like that.

"You don't like girls," she states.

I almost crash the car. My heart starts beating. She isn't asking me. She's telling me. For the first time in my life, I feel completely exposed. I feel violated. I feel like someone has ripped down the curtain and shown something in me that I wanted to stay hidden.

"What? That's ridiculous," I state.

"Is it?" she asks, "Relax. I won't tell anyone. I had a friend...like you. We were really close. They beat him so bad in a back alley when they found out."

I swallow my spit at that moment, "Killed him?"

She sighs a little bit, "This is the South hunny."

That's all she needs to say. Things like that weren't even accepted up North, let alone in the South. Carol just stares out and at this moment I'm more nervous than anything. What if she told someone. Even if they didn't believe her, I didn't want anyone even suspicious of something like that.

"Damn..." is all I can manage to mutter.

"I kept his secret," she tells me, " I can keep yours too."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She laughs, "Relax. I know my father talked your Uncle into bringing you down here for me. He wants me to be his sweet Southern belle so bad. Get married. Pop out five kids. I'm not ready for that. Not yet. I want to live a little. But they rather me just follow fold. What did they offer you?"

I didn't want to lie to her. She suspected it already.

"Money..." I respond.

She sighs, pulling out a cigarette lighting it up and smoking with the windows up. It makes me cough a little bit but she still doesn't roll the windows down.

"How about this, cutie? You're a good look. You can shut Daddy up for a while. Keep him off my back. You scratch my back...I'll scratch yours."

At that moment I had no idea how serious things would become. It was the same statement my Uncle had made. It was a simple agreement. She stretches her hand out. She wants me to shake on it. She wants me to shake on her loyalty.

I pause. I haven't decided if Carol is a revolutionist or just a spoiled rich white girl who was bored with her life.

I shake.

Out of nowhere, I ask, "How?"

"I know a place we can go."

She told me the area was called Bessemer. As I drove I could not see a white face. It was almost as though we were in an entirely different world. Driving through Bessemer was an ordeal because it was so difficult to breathe, and from the choking smell of sulfur from the iron smelting going on continuously. I kept the windows up and inhaled Carol's smoke instead.

"This is it..." she states, "There it is..."

Corby's place. The first three letters on the building were falling off...

I didn't know what to do when I see Carol, this white girl pulling up to this colored bar. It looks like a place she shouldn't be. It looks like a place I shouldn't bring her. I think about calling out for her. I think about saying something to her.

But then I see him.

The boy who was working in Aunt Loribeth's garden. He is cleaned up now. He's walking into the bar with a bunch of colored boys his age. He doesn't see me but I see him and all of a sudden I'm just as intrigued as Carol is.

"You ever came here before?" I ask her.

The stares when we walk into the bar are serious, to say the least. People all look uncomfortable. People all seem scared.

"Relax segregation ended a few years back," she states.

"Do they know that?"

The stares were extreme. The fear was extreme. Carol walks in like she owns the place, twisting her hips as she walks and going up to the bar. She's attempting her best to be sexy, I believe. It looks a little foolish in her modest dress but that doesn't stop her from trying. I linger behind her not sitting on the stool like she is.

"Whiskey straight," Carol tells the bartender.

I look behind me. People are starting to leave.  The gardener is there. He's stopped staring at me and is saying something to another guy sitting with him. As I stand there I see HIM. My heart flutters. I don't know why everyone in the room just disappears. He's attractive. Sure, there were other attractive colored men in the bar. I'd never looked at a colored guy, hell I'd never looked at any guy in the same way I'm staring at him.

"Those some fine colored men, aren't they? You want to go over there?" Carol asks.

"Huh? No..."

"C`mon."

I try to stop Carol but the girl is just is on a fucking mission. She crosses over to the table and I'm following her trying to stop her clearly the entire time. Out of nowhere she takes the one open seat at the table.

"What the..." one of the guys at the table says.

Another guy starts laughing nervously.

"You boys don't mind, do you?" Carol asks, "You got a light?"

The boys look at one another. There are four of them including the Gardener. He seems the most awkward with Carol approaching. The other guys seem to be just as nervous but also seem to be somewhat intrigued. One of the guys lights her cigarette.

"You lost ma'am?" the Gardener asks.

The way his voice just rolls out of his mouth turns me on. I'm staring at him like a clown. My eyes are glued on him. I can't help it.

"No, I'm just where I want to be," Carol states turning to the guy who lit her cigarette, "Look at you. Those muscles."

The man she is flirting with is lighter. He's handsome in his own way. He makes a muscle for Carol, "You like it."

"Dmitry," the gardener says, seeming irritated.

"What? She gave me a compliment. I was just being polite."

"It's getting pretty late," the gardener tells Carol, "The bar is about to close in a little bit."

He's right. The bartender was already putting up the glasses in the back. Most everyone was already leaving the bar. It was getting pretty empty.

Carol laughs, "I'll stay until it closes."

"Relax Stevey," the guy named Dmitry says back, "We just having fun. Ain't we?"

Stevey. That was his name.

Carol laughs, "Yeah, just fun."

"I need a cigarette," Stevey states getting up at that moment, "Dmitry if you want a ride still I suggest you wrap this up and come on."

He heads out.

"Didn't you say you wanted a cigarette too?" Carol asks me.

"Huh?" I ask.

"You remember?" Carol asks, "Why don't you borrow one from Stevey here?"

I'm confused what Carol was trying to do until I see her hand on Dmitry's thigh. I think it's all a bad idea. It's all dumb but at the same time maybe she saw how I looked at Stevey. He had to see it too. I was bad at hiding shit like this.

"Do you...have an extra?" I ask Stevey, "By any chance."

Our eyes lock.

"C`mon."

~

Smoking the first time actually settles my nerves. He doesn't have an extra cigarette like he thought but I tell him I don't mind sharing his. So we stand outside looking at the streets of Birmingham waiting for our friends. Each time I puff the cigarette I imagine that my lips were just where his lips were. I'm turned on just by the thought.

"You work for the Crawford's..." I state.

He nods, uncomfortably.

"Yeah."

"I'm their nephew," I state.

I'm trying so hard to make small conversation but he doesn't seem to be particularly interested. He is cold and stoic. If he wasn't so goddam handsome to me he'd remind me a lot of a black version of Chuck. He stares at me suspiciously as though I'm going to poison his cigarette when I pass it back to him.

"I know who you are. Mrs. Crawford had us setting up the house for a week for you to get here," he states.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Stevey. Your flowers were beautiful. So colorful. So many greens and reds and oranges and pinks..."

I smile at him when I say it. I'm trying to be nice but he doesn't respond to my smile.

"You shouldn't be here," he states, "Neither of you should be."

I pause.

"I think I'm in pretty good company," I respond.

"You see anyone else like you in the club?"

"Are we not welcomed?"

"White folk are welcome everywhere," he states, "It's us that ain't welcome nowhere. And they said segregation is over. Pst. I just don't want no trouble."

"I don't judge people on the color of their skin," I tell him, before adding out of nowhere, "I see beauty in every skin tone."

The way I say it is beyond awkward. Really, August? I want to just run out into traffic when I say that. He looks over at me surprised that I say something like that.

"I dunno where you from, but if you think that's how things are down here...you're wrong."

"Maybe I'm not wrong. Maybe everyone else is."

"White and colored folk don't mix...it's trouble. Always has been...always will be."

I pause. The cigarette is done. He looks back awkwardly at the club probably hoping his friend would come out by now. His friend doesn't. We stand there for ten minutes just looking at the cars go by. I can tell he doesn't want me there anymore but for some reason, I don't leave. I just can't leave.

"In your garden, the flowers were so beautiful," I said causing him to turn.

"It wasn't my garden. I can't afford no goddam garden."

"You grew it. It's yours. So many greens and reds and oranges and pinks. They grow beautiful together. So many colors. So beautiful. You think they care what the color of the other flowers are?"

He looks at me.

He looks at me hard and then smiles.

"I guess not."

"Oh...wow, he does smile," I state, "I was starting to think southern hospitality was just a myth. I knew I could make you smile."

"Southern hospitality is no more a myth then Northern over-confidence," he bites back smiling the entire time.

"I'll take that."

He pauses, "Maybe you're right."

"Come again?"

"I said you were wrong before. The way you think. Sometimes it takes someone who hasn't seen the garden before to really appreciate it. So, I'm saying that maybe you're right, Mr. Crawford."

"August," I correct Stevey, "Just August."

Just at that moment, we're staring at each other and I feel like I'm breaking through to someone. His anger isn't the same as Chuck. They were both cold and unfriendly but there was something underneath Stevey. For some reason when I look at him I see someone who has just been bruised. There is a real pain there. There is a real distress.

"Thank you, Mr. Crawford, for reminding me of the beauty out here. I guess sometimes I just...seem to forget."

"I understand. Those flowers though...they weren't the most beautiful colored thing in that garden of yours."

And I take a step closer to him. Too close.

I stare at his lips.

He notices me. I don't want to hide it. I want him to know that I want to kiss his lips. He could be straight. I don't even care. I go for it. I'm so close when all of a sudden I hear a scream.

The scream is piercing.

And then I see Carol running out of the bar.

"Carol...are you OK!"

"HELP ME! HELP ME!" she is panicking.

"Carol calm down!"

Carol pushes past me when I try to calm her down. She runs out in the middle of traffic. Tears are in her eyes. She's going crazy. That's when I see her stopping cars. She's stopping random cars. People come out of their cars. People who are just driving through. These are white people.

"They raped me!" she is screaming at the top of her lungs, "THEY RAPED ME!"

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