Journey of a Cotton Blossom. Jennifer Crocker-Villegas
was never there, even when he was physically in the house.
Mrs. Kingsley quickly swiped her hand across her cheek, wiping away the only sign of humanity within her. She then drove off, never looking back. Somewhere deep down, she actually felt some sense of care and love for the boy. Or maybe it was just sheer self-loathing.
10
Blind Love
Joseph had a new pep in his step. He was on the road to finally meet his mother and—don’t forget—the good senator. He had played this scenario out in his head a thousand times. He would show up and talk to the senator. Joseph would start by explaining to the man how it was his dream to live with his mother in their own home. He would then present the senator with all the money he had saved as payment for the release of his mother. It clearly would not be much money to the senator, but out of the kindness of his heart, he would indeed oblige. With such a convincing young boy in front of him, how could he not? He was, after all, none other than a great senator of the United States of America, bound to uphold certain standards. He then would hand Joseph his money back and say, “Why don’t you keep this and use it toward your new home together?”
Joseph went over and over this scenario in his head. Every day on his long walks toward Doddsdale, this was all he could think about—this and what his mother would be like. He pictured himself walking up a long, gravel driveway with a majestic white home sitting at the very end. As he walked up, he could see a very regal-looking man with a white beard smiling and waving at him. It must be the senator. He seemed so welcoming and warm.
On the right-hand side, just before the house, there was a giant oak tree like the one under which he’d found refuge at the Kingsleys. He pictured his mother on a swing hanging from that large oak tree by two ropes that held a piece of wood between them, functioning as a little seat. There she sat, swinging so effortlessly. She looked flawless. She was wearing a beautiful, flowing white sundress with little yellow and pink flowers all over it. She had a beautiful, soothing yellow cotton blossom in her hair, a slight touch of soft pink caressing the tips of its petals as the sun did her face. She would see him and immediately know that he was her baby, her one and only, stripped out of her arms at birth. She would run to him, and tears would fall down her face out of pure joy and overwhelming emotion. He would reveal to her his plan to talk to the senator, and they would then go get a home together, where they would live happily ever after.
He continued to walk down the road to Doddsdale with these merry thoughts dancing in his head. This was a rarity, so he was really enjoying himself every step of the way. He felt like the sun was warming his heart and soul, with God smiling down on him. He was on the top of the world in this moment.
Joseph had calculated it would take him about three days to walk there. That included time to stop for sleep and to eat some of the snacks he had packed. However, he did not believe he would be sleeping a whole lot because of his sheer excitement. He had also set up a water-drinking schedule to ensure he would not run out. He had hopes that he would run across a fountain or hose on his journey so he could refill. Of course, he would need either a fountain approved for the colored or an unattended hose. This was a “kind” way of saying to the non-Caucasian community, “You are not human. You are afflicted with something we don’t want to catch.” This was all Joseph had known. These laws had been in place long before his birth. He found them ridiculous, but it was not something he was going to rebel against alone as a young black boy in the South. That would be a death sentence.
During the early spring in the South, temperatures can range from hot to cold within a few hours. One day you could be in shorts, and the next, layered in coat and pants. This was why he had packed himself a range of clothing options.
Joseph was making great time. Sometimes he walked late into the night, when it was just him and the stars. He found it so peaceful. He was able to take in everything around him on his journey. The beauty overshadowed the dirt he stirred up with each step. He was amazed at all the oak trees, the large, blossoming magnolias, and the sweet smell of the honeysuckle that lined his path. Occasionally, he passed a little farmhouse, but overall, it was just him and nature. He felt a sense of safety in its embrace.
Joseph did not often pass by people or cars since he was in such a rural area, but when he did, no one paid him much mind, which was good. He knew not to look anyone directly in the eye. This is the same cautionary information for if you were to come in contact with a leopard. If you look a leopard in the eye, it sees it as a challenge and will attack. Oddly, the same went for these townspeople in the South. The difference is that a leopard does not discriminate.
These people did discriminate against those they lovingly referred to as “the Negros.” Never mind if it was an adult or a child. Growing up, Joseph had heard many horrific stories about people he knew being attacked. He had even seen this ignorant brutality several times, so he learned to keep his head down and stay quiet. That was how you stayed alive in these parts. Fortunately, the people he passed probably just figured he was the new help for a neighboring house. The townspeople in these areas sure liked to gossip, but they didn’t care too much about who had or didn’t have new help.
Joseph sensed that he was getting closer to his destination. He knew he had walked a long distance. According to his calculations, he should be arriving sometime the next afternoon. It was a hard walk, but luckily, he was a strong boy. He would just keep walking south until he reached that Doddsdale sign. After that, it would be smooth sailing. It was as if he could not walk fast enough, but he knew he had to pace himself. He didn’t want to overdo it and become sick or excessively hot. That would require too much of the water he’d brought. He still had not come across a fountain or hose he could use to refill his bottle. He had been very sparing with the water, but, boy, he sure was thirsty. If it had been summertime, he never would have made it.
The sun was starting to go down. He knew he would need his energy for all the excitement tomorrow, so he decided to hunt for a safe place to sleep. He wandered off the road and found a hay barn in the woods. Though he checked around for signs of activity in the area, he saw none besides some livestock tracks. This would work great: shelter and safety. There was a bit of loose hay on the ground. It was a tad moldy, but dry. He gathered some into a pile. It would make for a comfortable bed for the evening. It was way better than just the tough ground, which was how he had slept the previous two nights.
It hadn’t taken him long at all to find this place, which allowed him to sit and enjoy the sunset. He could not remember a time in his life when he’d ever been happier and able to enjoy life without fear of retaliation. He thanked God for this moment, and he really took it all in. He even talked to Berta a bit. He sure wished she could be there with him to enjoy this sunset. She would have loved it.
As the sun went down, his appetite rose. He reached into his bag to pull out dinner: deer jerky and a roll. He was about to take his first bite when he heard screaming in the distance.
“You get back here, you little ingrate! I will find you . . . I don’t care. Just go out there and be with the loose niggers!”
Joseph then heard footsteps steadily getting closer. His heart jumped. All his elated emotions that he had been feeling were gone in an instant, replaced by fear. The footsteps sounded like they were in a full sprint, and the crunching sounds of the leaves and pine needles rapidly got closer and closer. Where was he to go? Where was he to hide?
He was panicked and had no clue what move to make. Just then, he remembered the large rolls of hay in the corner of the barn. If he hurried, he could bury himself behind them. He jumped up, grabbed his bag, and darted behind all that hay. He burrowed in as quietly and quickly as he could. He became very still, but so did the footsteps. Listening intently, he then heard what sounded like sobbing coming from the front of the barn.
Who is crying in here? he wondered.
Was he hearing things? He wanted so badly to see who it was and what was going on, but he stayed put. His fear overruled his curiosity.
About fifteen minutes had passed, and the sobbing continued. Joseph’s curiosity was growing stronger by the minute. He had also grown weary of being so still. A fourteen-year-old does not have that kind of patience—at least, this fourteen-year-old