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missmaryrPrejudice
Written for Briget’s Flame prompt but not submitted.
I grew up prejudiced, but in a peculiar way.
In a way, my grandmother taught me my peculiar prejudice without realizing she did so. While my grandfather handled his law practice brilliantly, and wielded his influence in the small town and county we lived in with considerable gusto, Grandma ran him, and he didn’t even know it. I knew that, and Momma knew it, even if Grandpa didn’t. So I grew up knowing for a fact that girls were better than boys, with the exception of my Dad. Still, Dad differed from other males, so in my mind he didn’t count.
The day I started second grade, I met my best friend. When Grandma dropped me off at the new school, we saw a girl standing by the door, frozen stiff. Before she drove off, she pointed to the girl and said, “Be nice.” I nodded and walked over.
“Hi,” I said, and she whipped around. Tears tracked down her face. “I’m Nadine,” I said. “You’re new. What’s your name?”
“Mellie,” she whispered. She was pretty, I noticed, with her dark eyes and long black hair. She had a ribbon on her ponytail. She took me in as I looked at her, taking in the amber slanted eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “I’m in second grade. I came yesterday but I don’t remember anything.”
“Come with me,” I said, and headed inside. As I greeted my friends, I introduced Mellie. It turned out we shared classes. I put her in the seat by me. But when we reached the playground, I headed for the swings and forgot about the new girl. Tiring of the swings, I decided to see-saw and looked for the new girl.
I finally saw her with her back against the fence. Jose, the biggest boy in the school, stood in front of her. I headed over, in time to hear him demand her lunch money. “Back off,” I yelled when I got closer. Jose turned, and Mellie bolted. He grabbed for her arm, and missed. I waved her behind me. “Didn’t I teach you better last year?” I demanded.
“Dumb bitch! I learned to fight this summer.” He came at me with his fist up.
I grabbed it and twisted his arm behind him. Of course he squealed like a baby. I walked him to Mellie and demanded, “Say sorry!” He mumbled something. “Say it so I can hear it!” I demanded, squeezing his arm up. I had to look around him to see her, since he was several inches taller than I was.
“All right, sorry!”
“Did he get your lunch money?” I asked her. She shook her head, her eyes wide. I spun him away, using my ‘push’. I’ve always had the ‘push’; Daddy taught me how to use it without anybody knowing. Grandma said Daddy had the brains of a woman. With it I was stronger than any of the other kids, older or younger, boy or girl.
He shuffled off, but threw “Stupid zebra,” behind him before he ran.
“Dumb boy,” I yelled after him. I turned to see her cringing. “Come on, if we hurry we can get a see-saw!” We did, just barely, beat out another set of kids. “What’s a zebra?” I asked as we climbed on.
“My momma’s Hispanic but Daddy’s white,” she said.
I shrugged, not seeing how that mattered. "I am too, then," I said. "My daddy's Asian. See my eyes?"
She gave me a strange look. “Can you show me how to do that?” she asked. “Fight like that?”
“There’s a class at the gym, Sundays,” I told her. “My daddy teaches it. It’s free.” We went up and down. “Come to my folk’s store this weekend and he can talk to your momma or daddy about it.”
“Daddy works on Saturday but I’ll ask Momma,” she said.
Momma came to get me and I told her all about Mellie on our way home. She nodded thoughtfully as I talked. “Did you hurt Jose?” she asked.
“Just his boy pride,” I sniffed. “He’s so stupid. I taught him better last year. “She said nothing, but her disapproval permeated the car. “He did try to take her lunch money,” I defended myself, “and he tried to hit me. First!”
I figured out how my parents differed from other kids’ early. Momma always knew my little mischiefs, knew when I got up after I sent to bed and knew when I tried to hide my vegetables under my plate. When the bogeyman threatened, Momma appeared and chased the fear away. When rage clogged my throat, Momma appeared and either settled the situation or rescued the hapless victim of my rage. As I grew older, I learned to open or narrow the connection, but it always existed in the corner of my mind.
Daddy and Momma connected closer than Momma and I. Daddy was different, too, but not like Momma. He still knew when I lied, though, and often he made things happen that no one else could. As far as I could tell, my maternal grandparents were completely normal humans who had no idea how special Momma and Daddy and I were. Since Momma helped run the bookstore that my parents owned, I pulled all the childhood stunts every kid pulls- lying, eavesdropping, that stuff- on my grandparents.
“All right,” she conceded, “he was being a bully. “ She parked in the store’s parking lot. “Tell Daddy, so he’ll be ready if Mellie’s momma comes in. “
Mellie’s mother, Ms. Jones, did talk to Daddy and Mellie came to the training. When she did, some of the other Hispanic kids started to come. Once one of then called her a zebra. Dad made him apologize in front of the class. “You will respect your fellow students or you will not be one,” he said.
I spent Saturday afternoons at the store with my parents. I was more than happy to see Mellie come in with her mother. Running over, I remembered my manners and said, “Hi, can Mellie come play with me?” in one big rush. Without waiting for a response, I grabbed Mellie’s hand and dragged her over to the children’s section, which held simple games and puzzles as well as a selection of books. When I bothered to look up from the game of checkers, I noticed Mellie’s mother talking to Daddy at the counter. Daddy waved for me to come over, and Mellie’s mom called her.
While Saturdays were usually busy, right now the store only had about five people in it. Most were sitting in the reading room, a large, sunny area between the books and the small snack/drink section filled with easy chairs and coffee tables. Mellie was a little ahead of me. I saw Mr. Dawson the mailman stick his foot out. She fell on her face. I deliberately stepped in his foot when I helped her up. He started to say something, and I stared him down. Mr. Dawson delivered mail to most of the town. He was a big man, with a sizeable potbelly, and he stank. He used to take his break at the library, but drinks were forbidden there, so he came here for his break. He drank a cheap coffee or drink and read the free paper. “Are you okay, Mellie?” I asked loudly. Several of the patrons looked over.
“Just a zebra,” he muttered. Mellie, hearing that, started to cry and ran to her mother.
“Say sorry,” I demanded. Mr. Dawson ignored me. I raised my voice. “Bully!” I said, loud enough to be heard by everyone in the store. That brought down the paper. “Mean bully! You hurt Mellie’s feelings on purpose. You’re a bad man! ”
“ I’ll teach you!” he said, and swiped at me with a nearby magazine.
That’s what I was aiming for. He hit at me; I could hit back. I leaned back and put everything I had, both strength and ‘push’ and kicked him on the shin. His mouth opened but nothing came out as he dropped the magazine and grabbed at his leg. “Prejudiced jerk,” I added, as I marched to the counter. Juanita grabbed me and yanked just as wind passed by my ear.
“Earl Dawson!” Momma was there, between me and Mr. Dawson. “Please leave,” she said. “As of today, you are no longer allowed to use the reading room. “
“She broke my leg!” he whined. “I’ll sue!”
By this time the other patrons, two men and two women, were approaching. “A little girl like that?” one of the men said. “Tomorrow you won’t be able to tell where she kicked you. Give me a break.”
“Big man like that could have broken her neck,” one of the women muttered.
Momma smiled. “Why don’t I call my daddy and ask him who would win,” she said pleasantly. “A little girl kicked you for being a jerk. That’s very rude,” she gave me a disapproving glance, “but it isn’t a crime. An adult tried to strike my daughter, in front of six witnesses. That’s assault. Try it, Earl.” Earl wilted. “Now leave. “
Daddy came over and said, “Come, children, we’ll have tea in my office.” He picked up both Mellie and I. “Ms. Jones?” he said to Juanita.
“You prefer a spick and a zebra to a white man?” Earl snarled. “Should’ve known. You married a chink and have a zebra of your own.” I stuck my tongue out and blew him a loud, wet raspberry. Everyone started to laugh, and he flushed an angry red.
“I prefer two polite clean customers to one rude, stinking one,” Momma said calmly. “I will not allow anyone to insult my customers or my family. If you do not leave, I will charge you with assault against a seven year old child. “During the discussion, the other customers moved until they were between Momma and Daddy. Earl limped to the door, muttering threats under his breath as he went.
“Come,” Daddy said to Juanita, and we all went, not to his office, but to the conference room, where he kept tea supplies. Momma brought hot water and left. “Nadine,” he said, “Defending Mellie was right. “ He began to make jasmine tea, my favorite.
“And I say gracias,” Juanita said, “though Mellie needs to learn not to be so sensitive.”
He handed small cups of tea around and passed the sugar bowl to me. I put two heaping spoons full in my tea, and Mellie did the same. Her mother and Daddy sipped theirs without sweetener. “But kicking Mr. Dawson was very silly,” Daddy added sternly. “Your grandmother would be ashamed. You’ve seen how she deals with mean people.” I squirmed, knowing Daddy was right. I knew she would have given Mr. Dawson a look, and sniffed, and walked off. “I’ve discussed this with her before, and she agreed to teach both you and Mellie manners .”
“Daddiieee!” I wailed. I didn't want to be a proper girl!
“Hush. Mrs. Jones, I discovered your application yesterday, and I am certainly interested. However, there will be other, similar incidents to the one we had today. Can you deal with other Earl Dawsons?”
“Certainly,” she said, waving her hand to dismiss the matter. “I ran one of my father’s cafés in Mexico City before I married Wayne. I will learn how to deal with the books while you build the café, si? And then I will teach you to run the café. “
He smiled. “You relieve my mind, Ms. Jones.”
“Juanita. We work together now, no? “
“Excellent. Then it’s Gregory. Not Greg, please.”
Juanita started working at the store, and even before the café opened, business picked up. The tale of Momma and Earl’s confrontation got out. New people who didn’t read much came in out of curiosity, and many returned when they discovered the expanded drinks and snack offerings Juanita recommended. When the café opened, business was good from the beginning.
When I told Grandma about the incident, she pulled her own invisible strings. Earl was transferred to a rural route, and a much nicer mailman who liked to read delivered our mail and took his breaks in the reading room. “Such prejudice is very inappropriate for a public servant,” she said severely. Unfortunately, that didn’t get me out of my new lessons.
Written for Briget’s Flame prompt but not submitted.
I grew up prejudiced, but in a peculiar way.
In a way, my grandmother taught me my peculiar prejudice without realizing she did so. While my grandfather handled his law practice brilliantly, and wielded his influence in the small town and county we lived in with considerable gusto, Grandma ran him, and he didn’t even know it. I knew that, and Momma knew it, even if Grandpa didn’t. So I grew up knowing for a fact that girls were better than boys, with the exception of my Dad. Still, Dad differed from other males, so in my mind he didn’t count.
The day I started second grade, I met my best friend. When Grandma dropped me off at the new school, we saw a girl standing by the door, frozen stiff. Before she drove off, she pointed to the girl and said, “Be nice.” I nodded and walked over.
“Hi,” I said, and she whipped around. Tears tracked down her face. “I’m Nadine,” I said. “You’re new. What’s your name?”
“Mellie,” she whispered. She was pretty, I noticed, with her dark eyes and long black hair. She had a ribbon on her ponytail. She took me in as I looked at her, taking in the amber slanted eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “I’m in second grade. I came yesterday but I don’t remember anything.”
“Come with me,” I said, and headed inside. As I greeted my friends, I introduced Mellie. It turned out we shared classes. I put her in the seat by me. But when we reached the playground, I headed for the swings and forgot about the new girl. Tiring of the swings, I decided to see-saw and looked for the new girl.
I finally saw her with her back against the fence. Jose, the biggest boy in the school, stood in front of her. I headed over, in time to hear him demand her lunch money. “Back off,” I yelled when I got closer. Jose turned, and Mellie bolted. He grabbed for her arm, and missed. I waved her behind me. “Didn’t I teach you better last year?” I demanded.
“Dumb bitch! I learned to fight this summer.” He came at me with his fist up.
I grabbed it and twisted his arm behind him. Of course he squealed like a baby. I walked him to Mellie and demanded, “Say sorry!” He mumbled something. “Say it so I can hear it!” I demanded, squeezing his arm up. I had to look around him to see her, since he was several inches taller than I was.
“All right, sorry!”
“Did he get your lunch money?” I asked her. She shook her head, her eyes wide. I spun him away, using my ‘push’. I’ve always had the ‘push’; Daddy taught me how to use it without anybody knowing. Grandma said Daddy had the brains of a woman. With it I was stronger than any of the other kids, older or younger, boy or girl.
He shuffled off, but threw “Stupid zebra,” behind him before he ran.
“Dumb boy,” I yelled after him. I turned to see her cringing. “Come on, if we hurry we can get a see-saw!” We did, just barely, beat out another set of kids. “What’s a zebra?” I asked as we climbed on.
“My momma’s Hispanic but Daddy’s white,” she said.
I shrugged, not seeing how that mattered. "I am too, then," I said. "My daddy's Asian. See my eyes?"
She gave me a strange look. “Can you show me how to do that?” she asked. “Fight like that?”
“There’s a class at the gym, Sundays,” I told her. “My daddy teaches it. It’s free.” We went up and down. “Come to my folk’s store this weekend and he can talk to your momma or daddy about it.”
“Daddy works on Saturday but I’ll ask Momma,” she said.
Momma came to get me and I told her all about Mellie on our way home. She nodded thoughtfully as I talked. “Did you hurt Jose?” she asked.
“Just his boy pride,” I sniffed. “He’s so stupid. I taught him better last year. “She said nothing, but her disapproval permeated the car. “He did try to take her lunch money,” I defended myself, “and he tried to hit me. First!”
I figured out how my parents differed from other kids’ early. Momma always knew my little mischiefs, knew when I got up after I sent to bed and knew when I tried to hide my vegetables under my plate. When the bogeyman threatened, Momma appeared and chased the fear away. When rage clogged my throat, Momma appeared and either settled the situation or rescued the hapless victim of my rage. As I grew older, I learned to open or narrow the connection, but it always existed in the corner of my mind.
Daddy and Momma connected closer than Momma and I. Daddy was different, too, but not like Momma. He still knew when I lied, though, and often he made things happen that no one else could. As far as I could tell, my maternal grandparents were completely normal humans who had no idea how special Momma and Daddy and I were. Since Momma helped run the bookstore that my parents owned, I pulled all the childhood stunts every kid pulls- lying, eavesdropping, that stuff- on my grandparents.
“All right,” she conceded, “he was being a bully. “ She parked in the store’s parking lot. “Tell Daddy, so he’ll be ready if Mellie’s momma comes in. “
Mellie’s mother, Ms. Jones, did talk to Daddy and Mellie came to the training. When she did, some of the other Hispanic kids started to come. Once one of then called her a zebra. Dad made him apologize in front of the class. “You will respect your fellow students or you will not be one,” he said.
I spent Saturday afternoons at the store with my parents. I was more than happy to see Mellie come in with her mother. Running over, I remembered my manners and said, “Hi, can Mellie come play with me?” in one big rush. Without waiting for a response, I grabbed Mellie’s hand and dragged her over to the children’s section, which held simple games and puzzles as well as a selection of books. When I bothered to look up from the game of checkers, I noticed Mellie’s mother talking to Daddy at the counter. Daddy waved for me to come over, and Mellie’s mom called her.
While Saturdays were usually busy, right now the store only had about five people in it. Most were sitting in the reading room, a large, sunny area between the books and the small snack/drink section filled with easy chairs and coffee tables. Mellie was a little ahead of me. I saw Mr. Dawson the mailman stick his foot out. She fell on her face. I deliberately stepped in his foot when I helped her up. He started to say something, and I stared him down. Mr. Dawson delivered mail to most of the town. He was a big man, with a sizeable potbelly, and he stank. He used to take his break at the library, but drinks were forbidden there, so he came here for his break. He drank a cheap coffee or drink and read the free paper. “Are you okay, Mellie?” I asked loudly. Several of the patrons looked over.
“Just a zebra,” he muttered. Mellie, hearing that, started to cry and ran to her mother.
“Say sorry,” I demanded. Mr. Dawson ignored me. I raised my voice. “Bully!” I said, loud enough to be heard by everyone in the store. That brought down the paper. “Mean bully! You hurt Mellie’s feelings on purpose. You’re a bad man! ”
“ I’ll teach you!” he said, and swiped at me with a nearby magazine.
That’s what I was aiming for. He hit at me; I could hit back. I leaned back and put everything I had, both strength and ‘push’ and kicked him on the shin. His mouth opened but nothing came out as he dropped the magazine and grabbed at his leg. “Prejudiced jerk,” I added, as I marched to the counter. Juanita grabbed me and yanked just as wind passed by my ear.
“Earl Dawson!” Momma was there, between me and Mr. Dawson. “Please leave,” she said. “As of today, you are no longer allowed to use the reading room. “
“She broke my leg!” he whined. “I’ll sue!”
By this time the other patrons, two men and two women, were approaching. “A little girl like that?” one of the men said. “Tomorrow you won’t be able to tell where she kicked you. Give me a break.”
“Big man like that could have broken her neck,” one of the women muttered.
Momma smiled. “Why don’t I call my daddy and ask him who would win,” she said pleasantly. “A little girl kicked you for being a jerk. That’s very rude,” she gave me a disapproving glance, “but it isn’t a crime. An adult tried to strike my daughter, in front of six witnesses. That’s assault. Try it, Earl.” Earl wilted. “Now leave. “
Daddy came over and said, “Come, children, we’ll have tea in my office.” He picked up both Mellie and I. “Ms. Jones?” he said to Juanita.
“You prefer a spick and a zebra to a white man?” Earl snarled. “Should’ve known. You married a chink and have a zebra of your own.” I stuck my tongue out and blew him a loud, wet raspberry. Everyone started to laugh, and he flushed an angry red.
“I prefer two polite clean customers to one rude, stinking one,” Momma said calmly. “I will not allow anyone to insult my customers or my family. If you do not leave, I will charge you with assault against a seven year old child. “During the discussion, the other customers moved until they were between Momma and Daddy. Earl limped to the door, muttering threats under his breath as he went.
“Come,” Daddy said to Juanita, and we all went, not to his office, but to the conference room, where he kept tea supplies. Momma brought hot water and left. “Nadine,” he said, “Defending Mellie was right. “ He began to make jasmine tea, my favorite.
“And I say gracias,” Juanita said, “though Mellie needs to learn not to be so sensitive.”
He handed small cups of tea around and passed the sugar bowl to me. I put two heaping spoons full in my tea, and Mellie did the same. Her mother and Daddy sipped theirs without sweetener. “But kicking Mr. Dawson was very silly,” Daddy added sternly. “Your grandmother would be ashamed. You’ve seen how she deals with mean people.” I squirmed, knowing Daddy was right. I knew she would have given Mr. Dawson a look, and sniffed, and walked off. “I’ve discussed this with her before, and she agreed to teach both you and Mellie manners .”
“Daddiieee!” I wailed. I didn't want to be a proper girl!
“Hush. Mrs. Jones, I discovered your application yesterday, and I am certainly interested. However, there will be other, similar incidents to the one we had today. Can you deal with other Earl Dawsons?”
“Certainly,” she said, waving her hand to dismiss the matter. “I ran one of my father’s cafés in Mexico City before I married Wayne. I will learn how to deal with the books while you build the café, si? And then I will teach you to run the café. “
He smiled. “You relieve my mind, Ms. Jones.”
“Juanita. We work together now, no? “
“Excellent. Then it’s Gregory. Not Greg, please.”
Juanita started working at the store, and even before the café opened, business picked up. The tale of Momma and Earl’s confrontation got out. New people who didn’t read much came in out of curiosity, and many returned when they discovered the expanded drinks and snack offerings Juanita recommended. When the café opened, business was good from the beginning.
When I told Grandma about the incident, she pulled her own invisible strings. Earl was transferred to a rural route, and a much nicer mailman who liked to read delivered our mail and took his breaks in the reading room. “Such prejudice is very inappropriate for a public servant,” she said severely. Unfortunately, that didn’t get me out of my new lessons.
