The Color of Deception: An Ironic Black and White Tale of Love, Tragedy, and Triumph

by Frank Perdue

  It came as quite a shock to the elder Warner when his son announced, after the father came home from work one night, that he was bringing a friend from school home with him the next day. Could he please stay for dinner? Oh yes, and by the way, he’s colored.

  Owen Warner exploded. “You will not bring him home!” He yelled.

  “Why?” The thirteen year old boy asked.

  “Because he’s not like us.” A little calmer now. “He should eat and play with his own kind.”

  “What kind is that?” his son replied, defiantly.

  “You know damn well what kind!” His father was angry again. “Niggers. Jigs. Dumb black people that don’t know their own place.” The older man was vehement; almost spitting out the words.

  Ted realized it was no use. Even if he defied his family’s wishes, and brought the boy to his house, it would be a miserable evening for all concerned, especially his new friend. So he conceded, and dropped the subject.

  During the war thousands of sailors flooded into San Diego, which was a jumping off place for the battles that were raging in the Pacific. Many of their families followed. Because there wasn’t enough lodging for them all, the San Diego City Council decided to build hundreds of apartments at a time on some of the open parcels of land in the city. Many of these sprung up in the lower income, or less fortunate, areas of town. One was built on a prime piece of land between two affluent neighborhoods. The community to the south was Ocean Bay.

  When the war ended in 1945, many of the immigrants of what was once the sleepy beach town of San Diego decided to stay. The military projects became low income housing. The city thrived under good management and the GI Bill. It was the land of plenty, if one happened to be white. The colored people weren’t so fortunate. Neither were the Mexican families. They were naturally in a minority. They had no political voice. Their educational opportunities were limited. This same scenario was being played out in all the so-called liberal states of the north and west. In the deep south, higher education for minorities was almost non-existent. As a result most of the Colored and Mexican students ended their education when they graduated from high school, if they got that far. They were subjected to extreme isolation in school, and in extra-curricular events. There were two exceptions to that; athletics and music.

  Charlie Fox was a good athlete. He could have been a running back on the high school football team. Though he was of average size, he was extremely fast and muscular. The problem was that Charlie’s family didn’t have any money, and the boy had to work four days a week. His father was a porter on the railroad; one of the better jobs available to people of his race, but still far below what a white man with a seventh grade education could make. He had to rely on the tips of his white patrons. Most of the time they were meager. For some reason the white people thought the colored people could exist on less. That is, if they thought about it at all. The elder Fox was gone a good deal of the time, and Charlie’s mother was in ill health.

  Charlie and Ted met on the playing fields of Muir Junior High; the school they both attended. Charlie had to be bussed to school, since the housing project he lived in was about five miles from Ocean Bay. Anyone who lived north of the housing project was bussed to Mission Bay Junior High. Ted could walk to school, and did, since his dad had the car. Otherwise, his mother would have been happy to drive him.

  The two boys became fast friends. It was obvious to Charlie that Ted was not like many of the white boys that attended the school. He accepted Charlie just as if he were white.

  One day Ted climbed onto the bus with Charlie after school and went to the colored boys house. He met Charlie’s mother. She was having one of her better days. She fixed snacks for the two boys before they went out to play. He stayed for a couple of hours before boarding a city bus, which he paid for by saving his lunch money from that day. There was no direct bus service to Ocean Bay from the project, so he had to travel downtown and transfer to the Beaches bus. It was nearly six when he arrived home.

  “Hi Mom.” he said as he walked through the door, and his mother came to greet him.

  “Why are you so late? I was really becoming worried.”

  Ted was sure that was true. His mother tended to smother him with protection. It was as if she thought something bad would happen to him if he wasn’t under her watchful eye constantly.

  “I stayed late at school to play some softball.” he lied.

  “Oh. Did you have fun?” She meant it. Her son’s welfare was everything to her.

  “Yeah. It was great.” That was the truth. Charlie was just about his best friend. He didn’t tell her that. She tended to side with his father on just about everything, especially now that they were getting along so well again.

  Their relationship seemed to change right after the accident. Owen didn’t come home with alcohol on his breath anymore. He was with them much more in the evening, and he seemed happy to be there.

  It was touch and go there for awhile. Ted wasn’t sure if his mother would live. She probably wouldn’t have if his dad hadn’t rushed her to the hospital. He didn’t understand how she could have fallen from their car. He knew that she needed blood transfusions, and some skin grafting, whatever that was. He was just glad she made it.

  What Ted didn’t know, and never would, was what really happened that day.

  -------

  Owen couldn’t understand what was going on in the car ahead of him. Suddenly the vehicle he was watching swerved to the left and went off the road. He saw the body in the middle just in time to swerve to the right, barely missing it. He was able to maintain control of his small Ford, bringing it to a stop about fifty feet beyond the still body of his wife. He swung the door open and jumped out, unaware that he hadn’t set the emergency brake. Luckily, the gear shift was engaged in high gear. The ratio in that model was pretty low, so the vehicle remained where it was.

  As he ran to Elaine, he feared the worst. The first thing he did was lift her eyelids. She was still on her back. Her eyeballs were visible, though they were not fixed on anything, and were rolled slightly upward. He felt for a vein on her wrist, and placed his right ear on her chest. He couldn’t feel a pulse, but his head moved up and down with the rhythm of her shallow breathing. He started to pick her up then realized that the skin from her back was gone. Quickly he ran to his car, remembering there was a blanket in the trunk. He opened the trunk lid reassuring himself that it was still there, then he backed the car up to a position parallel with Elaine’s body. He once again went to her side, this time carrying the blanket. He lifted her to a sitting position by pulling on her arms. Her head flopped backwards. He dropped most of the blanket behind her, holding onto one corner. He slowly lowered her back to the ground, wrapping the ends of the blanket over her arms and chest. He picked her up cautiously, and carried her to the passenger side of his vehicle, where he had already opened the door. He had no choice but to sit her up, since there was no back seat in the small Ford. Her arms were wrapped inside the blanket, so there was no chance of her falling out again. He turned the automobile around and headed down to civilization. He never thought to look over the cliff where her companion’s vehicle had rolled. In all the time it took to retrieve his wife’s body, not one car had come along. The same held true on the trip back down to the highway.

  Owen told the investigating officer that his wife had fallen out of his car somewhere in a completely different direction than Cajon Glen, though he couldn’t remember exactly where the accident scene was. There was no insurance involved, since Owen didn’t have any, so the police accepted his story. Luckily Elaine had not brought a purse with her: a fact that was puzzling since she was so vain about her appearance. He asked her about it much later, after she had fully recovered. She said she’d been so flustered that she was actually going through with the assignation that she just forgot her purse and makeup kit.

  It was a day after the fatal accident that Mel Proctor’s body was found. There had been some wind the night
before, and dust covered any sign that he had not been alone on that dirt road. Nobody could figure out why the big black Packard with all its luxury had fallen off the cliff. The authorities finally decided that he had pulled over to admire the view, not realizing he had gone too far. ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

  -----

  Throughout junior high and high school, Ted’s strange dreams continued. There was one in particular that puzzled him. He was coming out of a movie with a girl. She was a tiny thing, under five feet probably. They were deep in conversation, and didn’t see a group of older boys approaching them. Suddenly they were surrounded. One of the boys took the girl’s arm, pulling her out of the encirclement. He released her with an admonishment to stay put, then he turned his attention back to Ted, who couldn’t go anywhere. His assailant was a blond-headed boy with a man’s wide set waist. He walked up to Ted and hit him in the stomach. As Ted doubled over, he was hit on the back of the neck. When he fell to the sidewalk, the blonde boy began kicking him. Finally, he lost consciousness.

  The next thing he heard was the girl. She was saying something. “Jake! Please wake up. Are you all right?”

  Ted woke abruptly and sat up in bed. “What did she call me?”, he mouthed softly. He couldn’t remember what she’d said, exactly. Whatever it was, it awakened him from a deep sleep. It seemed important somehow, yet, he couldn’t recall it. He was still groggy from the deep sleep.

  It was only a matter of minutes before he was dreaming again. He was in a bathroom, standing before a mirror. He had his shirt off and was examining a maroon-colored bruise just below the left side of his rib cage; the right side as he saw it reflected. Then he looked up. His left hand came up to his eye, and he put his index finger on the slightly raised thin red line on his left eyelid.

  The sleeping boy stirred and felt his own eyelid. Of course it was smooth.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ted Warner was a good student, but something happened on his way to a college education. It was called Geometry. He prided himself on his ability to solve math problems. He had breezed through Algebra in his junior year, and had confidence in his ability to master the higher math that was ahead.

  Actually senior year should have been easy for Ted academically. In addition to Geometry, he only needed one class in the English category and a year of Civics. He chose Drama as his English elective, and filled up the rest of his schedule with Wood Shop, Study Hall, and Physical Education. Phys. Ed. was his last class, and was attended by football players. By starting early, practices didn’t last late into the night.

  It hit him early on that he was in trouble with his studies. Geometry wasn’t Math; not as he had known it. What were all those theorems? Be serious. He thought the teacher was kidding when she told them to memorize those things. Hypotenuse? That wasn’t a mathematical term. What did that have to do with adding and subtracting, multiplication and division?

  At least life at home was better than it had been. His mother had fully recovered from her automobile accident. No one ever talked about the man who had died. Ted’s father was much more attentive to his family. The violent temper that had surfaced that one time seemed to have disappeared, and his Mother once again accompanied Owen Warner on his out of town business trips. This often left Ted home alone. Of course he was sixteen, and almost a man, but on some of those nights when he was by himself, and should have been studying, he went to social club parties.

  They were called joint meetings. There was always liquor, beer, and wine. The oldest kids there were eighteen. Ted didn’t know how they got the booze, but it never seemed to run out. He found that, after sharing a bottle of Manischewitz sweet wine, he had more to say. He made dates with a few girls he met at the parties. But it was the same old story. When he was alone with them, and sober, even he knew he was boring.

  On one of the nights when his parents were out of town, Ted came home quite drunk. It was a school night, so the party had broken up around ten. One of his friends, a boy who didn’t have much to drink, drove him home. He collapsed on the sofa, but he didn’t stay there long for he was going to be sick. The room was actually spinning around. He made it to the bathroom, and sat in front of the toilet, the nausea welling up inside him. He didn’t throw up right away, so he considered sticking his finger down his throat to end the terrible sickness he felt. About the time he decided to go ahead and do it, up came the vomit. It came in waves. He would feel better, and start to wipe his mouth, and up it would come again. Soon he had the dry heaves. His body retched mightily, but nothing came up. This went on for another five minutes and then his stomach began to settle down. He was weak, and extremely tired. He found his bed, and somehow remembered to set his alarm before he passed out. Then the dream came.

  He was in school, and he was looking for someone. He walked up and down the crowded halls glancing at every boy’s face. Suddenly he found who he was searching for. It was the kid who had ambushed him on the street. The husky blonde didn’t see Ted. He was fumbling with his combination lock and seemed to be alone. Ted reached out and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around until he was in full view. Ted’s right fist caught the bigger boy full on the jaw with an uppercut that seemed to come from the floor. The force of the blow slammed him into the lockers. Ted hit him again, this time in the stomach. Spittle came from the boy’s mouth as he bent forward. Ted’s right fist was a blur as it once again found the jaw of his enemy. There was a loud rattling sound of metal as his body hit the storage units once more, and then slid down to the tile floor and was still. The fight was over in less than a minute. Three punches and out.

  The crowd that had gathered to watch began to cheer. Then an older man had Ted by the arm, and said. “You come with me, you hoodlum.” He pulled Ted down the long narrow hall until they were at a door with printed letters that read OFFICE. The man opened the door, still holding Ted’s arm, and pulled him inside. “Wait here,” he said, pointing to a bank of wooden chairs lined up against one wall. Ted sat down. The man, who was wearing a gray suit, and looking very official, opened another door and disappeared. Then there was a ringing noise. Ted thought it was a class bell. But it kept on and on.

  He opened his eyes. The alarm on the night stand next to his bed was still ringing. He reached over and shut it off, still slightly disoriented. Then he remembered. He was alone in the house. He sat up in bed. His head was throbbing, but even through the pain of his hangover, he felt strangely more alive.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ted was becoming preoccupied with sex. It seemed to him that somehow it was the key to manhood. He would be forever doomed to pre-puberty without it. So far he hadn’t even come close. He was almost resigned to it never happening at all. Had he been more religious he would have considered the Priesthood-or he might have become a Monk. That would have solved his problem.

  His alter ego got lucky when he was fifteen. You know, that guy in his dreams that was him. He learned the term alter ego in the eleventh grade. It was about the last thing they taught him in English. As a matter of fact he didn’t understand much of what went on anywhere in school that year.

  He remembered the earlier dream vividly. He was helping a girl with her homework. Her parents were out for awhile. After they finished the school assignment, they started fooling around. Pretty soon she was really hot. Just then they heard her folks pull up outside. She was able to straighten her skirt and blouse before the front door opened and her mother entered the house with her hands full of groceries.

  “Go out and help your Dad, honey. There’s three more sacks of food.”

  They must only shop once a month, Ted remembered thinking. When the girl came back in, she took the sacks to the kitchen, and then retraced her steps to the living room.

  “Mom.” She muttered in a whiny voice.

  “Yes, dear.”

  “I got all my homework done. Could I go out for awhile?” Her mother looked at
her wristwatch. “Of course, dear. But it’s a school night, so you should be in by ten.”

  They hurried out the door. As soon as they were out of sight of her house, she turned to him and planted a big wet kiss on his lips. “We can go to that empty house up on Graham street if you want?” She made it a question.

  “Sounds bitchin’ to me.”

  The place was so dark it was spooky. They had to climb three flights of wooden stairs to get to the house. There was a for sale sign near the sidewalk. Weeds and grass had climbed up the sign and it was almost obscured. The house must have been empty a long time.

  He could tell she’d been there before. She took his hand and led him around to the side of the house. It seemed big enough to be a mansion. Soon they came to a dark brown door. She turned the round knob and the door creaked open. It was like the mummy movies that were so popular, but he wasn’t afraid.

  The girl squeezed his hand more tightly as she led him into a large empty room. Whoever owned the place had already cleaned out the furniture.

  “Hold me.” she said, feigning fear. He obliged. The time for talking was done. Soon his hands were all over her, and she was moaning and kissing him with those big juicy lips. Quickly he had her skirt up, and he fumbled with his pants before finally pulling them down. It was cool in that house on the floor. It never occurred to Ted to take his pants all the way off. When they were below his knees he fell over on the girl who had spread her legs obligingly. He had to rise again to take her panties off. He quickly accomplished that feat, and he was over her again. She reached up and pulled him down onto her. She shifted slightly, and then he was inside her, and thrusting. It was over quickly. He felt the strong tickling rush of his orgasm halfway up his back. He went limp, and all of his weight fell on the girl. She made a sound like “Geez” and pushed him off her.