Into White
by
David W. Landrum
I
am an albino girl.
I have no pigment
in my skin. My
hair and flesh
are white—and
I don’t
mean white in
the sense we usually
use the word,
as in “Caucasian.”
I mean white like
a piece of paper
or a marshmallow.
I have Type 1
Oculocutaneous
Albinism. I do
not have a drop
of pigment in
my body. I am
completely white.
I
met Sossity Chandler
when she opened
for us once. This
was before her
superstar days,
when she played
the bars and coffee
houses around
Grand Rapids .
It amuses me now
to realize that
in those days
we were better
known than she
was and she only
came out as a
local preliminary
performer to our
band, Mudlucious.
I could tell she
would go places,
however, when
she upstaged us
that night.
The
guy I was dating
at the time, Drew
Mason, introduced
us.
“Sossity,
this is Sarah.
You’ll have
to excuse her,
she’s a
little nervous
about playing
tonight. She always
looks pale under
those circumstances.”
“Drew,
knock it off,
will you?”
I said, the annoyance
sounding in my
voice a little
more than I had
intended. “Sossity,
I’m happy
to meet you. I
heard you play
at Rocky’s
a couple of weeks
ago.”
“Do
you play with
the band for a
living or do you
have a day job?”
she asked.
“I’m
only local with
the band. I don’t
tour with the
guys. I work at
Saint Mary’s
as a lab tech
in the Heart Center
. I like my work
and I like the
people I work
with, so I’m
not ready to take
the plunge and
go full-time with
the band.”
“We
trying to talk
her into it every
day,” Drew
put in.
“It’s
a big decision,”
Sossity said.
“I’m
glad you like
your job, Sarah.
Not a lot of people
can say that.”
“If
she played music
full time for
us,” Drew
interjected, “she’d
like her job a
whole lot better.”
As I said, Sossity
upstaged us. She
was supposed to
do fifteen minutes
of music—about
four songs. She
ended up, at the
audience’s
request, playing
for half an hour.
And when the second
act began, the
audience demanded
she open for that
as well (a thing
opening acts never
do), so the owner
of the place told
us to at least
let her do two
or three numbers.
She only did two,
but Drew was thoroughly
pissed off. He
said she was a
grandstanding
little bitch and
he would never
let her open for
us again.
I saw her two
days later. I
had popped into
a bar where I
was supposed to
meet my friend
Cynthia for a
drink. I sat down
and she called
and said she would
be a little late.
I hate drinking
alone. There’s
nothing worse
than you and your
drink and no one
to talk with.
Someone called
my name. I turned
around and saw
Sossity Chandler.
She sat at a table
with two guys.
One was Asian,
quite good looking—chiseled
face, strong body,
almond-shaped
eyes and dark
skin. Beside him
sat a guy with
sandy brown hair
and brown eyes,
tall—very
tall—I would
guess his height
at six-six or
taller. His long
arms and powerful
hands caught my
attention. Sossity
waved.
“Sarah!”
I went over to
her table. She
leaned forward
and hugged me.
“Let me
introduce you
to my friends.”
The Asian guy
was Jerry Watanabe,
her date, and
the other was
Tommy Sendek.
“He’s
a basketball player,”
Jerry put in.
“Who
do you play for?”
He gave me the
name of a local
university.
“They
have a big game
in couple of days,
don’t they?”
I asked.
I’m not
a sports fan but
for the first
time in years
one of the local
colleges had won
our district and
might go on to
the championship.
Everyone was talking
about it. You
heard the talk
whether you wanted
to hear it or
not. Drew’s
brother played
on the team.
“We
have a chance
to go to the national
tournament,”
Tommy said. “And
I’m getting
close to breaking
the Michigan college
scoring record.”
Obviously Tommy
had taken my appearance
in but he did
not stare or make
any remark about
my being white.
I
sat down and ordered
a peach daiquiri.
“I’m
playing tonight,”
Sossity told me.
“I’ve
got a bass and
a drummer. We’re
doing blues.”
“I
like the way you
play blues.”
“Tonight
I’m plugged
in. I’ve
brought my Strat.”
“What
are you doing?”
I asked.
“Standard
thirty-six bar.
Robert Johnson,
some Leadbelly.
We’re doing
a couple of old
Animals songs.
You know ‘For
Miss Caulker’?”
I laughed. “My
mom and dad had
that song on an
old 45. It was
the flip side
of ‘Bring
it on Home to
Me. ’ When
I learned to play
piano I learned
both those songs.
I played them
over and over.”
“We’re
doing ‘Bring
it on Home to
Me’ too.
You want to sit
in on our session?”
I stirred from
surprise and unease.
“I mean,”
she continued,
“it will
all be straight
progression. If
you know blues
you’ll be
able to improv.
The bar keeps
a piano on stage.
What do you say?”
I thought playing
the blues with
Sossity would
be very cool,
but I hesitated.
I glanced at her.
She had on a short
purple dress and
patterned hose.
I wore a sweater
and a denim mini.
“I
don’t know.
I’m not
dressed up.”
“You
look great. Besides,
who gives a damn?
This is a jam,
not a fashion
show.”
I hesitated.
“Afraid
of what Drew might
say?”
I blushed. And,
believe me, when
I blush it is
highly visible.
She had gone right
to the heart of
my reticence.
“Well
. . . I guess
I do hesitate.
He would be mad
about it. He wasn’t
very happy that
you stole the
show the other
night.”
“I
didn’t plan
that or try to
do it. It just
happened.”
“I
know. He was ticked
off because he’s
such a twit. I’d
love to stand
in with your band,
Sossity. Let’s
go for it.”
We
finished our drinks.
A rock band played
first. Since Sossity's
boyfriend was
with her, I naturally
fell in with Tommy.
We had to sit
close and lean
in to hear over
the band. We talked
about our backgrounds.
“I
work at the heart
center,”
I told him, “as
a research assistant.
I tried college
for a while but
dropped out. My
parents said they’d
pay my way to
Aquinas, but I
didn’t want
to go.”
“Are
you Catholic?”
“Lutheran,
but I’m
not into religion
much.”
Jerry had overheard
the last part
of our conversation.
He leaned over,
“He’s
Jewish,”
he said, “and
the top scorer
on their team.
But he won’t
play on Jewish
holidays, though,
and that pisses
his coach off.”
Tommy
seemed embarrassed
at the mention
of his religion.
The band started
up again. He asked
if I wanted to
dance. We went
out on the floor
and danced for
three numbers.
He was good and
I had fun with
him. Only when
we were both on
our feet did I
get an idea of
how tall he was
and how strong.
He moved with
a grace I have
seen only in guys
who study ballet
or are top athletes.
The band finished
their show. As
we walked toward
our table he smiled
at me. He seemed
shy. I smiled
back at him.
“You’re
a good dancer,”
I said, and I
stood on my tip-toes
gave him a quick
kiss. We settled
into our table.
Sossity told me
we would play
in twenty minutes.
Sossity
and I went to
the Ladies Room.
I asked her if
Tommy was dating
anyone.
“Not
now. A lot of
girls are chasing
him, though.”
“He’s
Jewish?”
“Right.”
“He
seems pretty devout.”
“He’s
very devout. He
takes his religion
seriously. I admire
people like that.”
“Then
he probably only
dates Jewish girls.”
“No.
He’s dated
two of my friends.
One was Protestant,
one Orthodox.”
She looked at
me, eyes amused.
“Why? Interested?”
I
felt defensive.
“Maybe,”
I said.
“Well
he’s definitely
interested in
you. He told me
that when you
went outside to
call your friend.
He said he thought
you were awesome.”
She held up one
hand. “Please
don’t tell
him I told you
that. He’s
shy and he’ll
run away if he
knows you know
he likes you.”
I
promised her I
would not say
a word. The news
that he found
me attractive
was heartening
because I thought
he was pretty
cool. We went
back out, finished
out drinks and
went up on stage
to play.
Our
jam session went
off fabulously.
I did five songs
with the band—the
two Animals hits
we had talked
about but then
three standard
numbers where
we did alternating
solos. Sossity
knew how to sing
the blues and
she belted out
a gusty vocal
that reminded
me of Janis Joplin
or Bonnie Tyler
and did great
riffs on her Fender
Stratocaster.
I even took a
vocal on one of
the numbers. When
we finished and
I stepped down
I was elated.
The crowd cheered
for me so much
I came back up
and took a bow.
Finally, they
quieted down for
the next number
and I sat down
by Tommy.
He
congratulated
me in his shy
way, saying I
was a great player
and singer and
had done a good
job. I smiled
at him, glowing
with the excitement
of the performance.
I liked him. Sossity
played for another
forty minutes
or so then ended
the show.
She
came back to the
table. We sat
there—six
of us, Sossity,
Jerry, Tommy,
the drummer and
bass player—and
drank and talked.
Sossity got drunk
(she gets drunk
a lot) and started
to tell me a story
about Drew.
“I
used to play music
at an open mic
Drew emceed. I
would ask him
if he wanted to
jam and play the
blues together.
He’d always
say, ‘Sure,
let’s do
it.’ Then
right before we
were scheduled
to go up, he’d
say ‘My
guitar isn’t
sounding good,’
or make up some
other excuse.
After the third
time, I started
to get the idea
that he had no
intention whatsoever
of playing with
me.”
“That’s
Drew,” her
drummer put in.
“You know
the type: alpha
male.”
That
made me laugh,
maybe more than
I should have,
because it was
so true. It also
struck me that
he was the alpha
male and I was
his protected
female. Maybe,
I thought ironically,
he preferred an
exotic member
of the species
and that was why
he kept me around.
Cynthia,
my friend, finally
showed up and
joined us. She
saw a boyfriend
and eventually
left with him.
I had to work
tomorrow so at
around 1 a.m.
I told Sossity
and the gang I
needed to go.
“I’ll
walk you to your
car,” Tommy
said.
I
was glad he offered.
Rocky’s
is not in the
nicest section
of town and I’d
parked my car
on a side street
a long block away.
He walked me to
where it was parked.
I turned to face
him.
“Can
I call you?”
he asked.
“Tommy,
I’d really
like that.”
I gave him my
card (I’d
had some made
at the hospital).
He took it and
then leaned down
for a kiss.
He
gave me a long
good-night kiss.
It was sweet.
I said I had to
go. He stood there
until I pulled
out. As I drove
away I saw him
walk back into
the bar.
Drew
was at my apartment
on Sunday and
I told him about
Rocky’s.
He was unhappy
about it and told
me so in no uncertain
terms.
“Why,
are you so pissed,
Drew? It was fun.
It was good experience
at doing impov.”
“I
told you she’s
a grandstander.
She might cut
into our gigs
if we let her
get too much stage
time.”
I
laughed. He gave
me a hard look.
“What’s
so funny?”
Sometimes
you are thinking
about making a
choice in life
and realize you
have already made
it.
“You
are, Drew. You’re
funny. I think
you and I are
finished.”
He
walked up close
to me. Part of
it was to intimidate
me but it was
also because he
felt genuinely
bewildered.
“Sarah,
what are you talking
about?”
I
walked to the
other side of
the room and then
turned to face
him. I did not
like him standing
so close to me.
“Drew,
we’re finished.
I don’t
like being around
you. You’re
too demanding.
And I don’t
like you always
making jokes about
how I look.”
His
mouth fell open.
He spread his
hands.
“I
only do that because
you’re so
cool about it
and accept yourself
so well.”
“I
know,” I
said. He was making
me nervous. “But
it’s been
bugging me lately.
I don’t
like the way you
make a spectacle
out of me all
the time. We need
to back off. I
don’t think
I want to play
in the band anymore.
And let’s
stay away from
each other for
a while—both
of us need some
perspective, I
think.”
He
put his hands
on his hips and
glared. The look
on his face unsettled
me. I did not
think he would
do anything stupid
but I also knew
how he was when
his temper got
the better of
him.
Just
then a knock came
at the door.
Relieved
that something
had broken the
tension, and also
that someone else
had come so I
did not have to
face Drew by myself,
I hurried over
to answer. It
was Sossity and
Jerry.
They had been
to visit a friend
at Saint Mary’s
hospital and remembered
my address. I
live in a brownstone
only a couple
of blocks from
Saint Mary’s.
I told them to
come in.
Drew
looked pretty
stupid standing
in the middle
of the living
room, a scowl
on his face, his
fists clenched.
Both Sossity and
Jerry smiled when
they saw him.
“You
okay, Drew?”
Sossity asked,
her eyes merry.
He
glared at her
as well, so much
that Jerry gave
him a look.
“Something
wrong?”
he asked.
Drew
relaxed a little.
“We
were having a
discussion,”
I said. The tension
in the room was
tangible. “Drew,
why don’t
you get some beer
out the refrigerator?”
He
scowled but did
what I told him.
The four of us
sat down at my
kitchen table
and sipped Sierra
Nevada IPA. Drew
sat there like
a sulky child.
Jerry and Sossity
kept smirking
and rolling their
eyes when he could
not see them.
He listened to
our conversation
but did not participate.
We talked about
our jobs. Jerry
was a software
engineer. I told
about being a
researcher at
the Heart Center
over on the Bradford
and Leonard near
Cornerstone University
. Then we got
on the subject
of how good the
music sounded
at Rocky’s
the other night.
Drew
stood and walked
to the window.
Then he came over
to the table.
“So
what’s the
idea of trying
to take my piano
girl, Sossity?”
We
were all too surprised
to answer. After
a minute, though,
the crassness
of him calling
me his “piano
girl” hit
me.
“Drew,
you need to leave,”
I told him.
I
won’t say
what he said,
but it was pretty
crude. In a flash,
Jerry was on his
feet. Drew retreated
a couple of steps
but then lunged
at Jerry. Before
I knew what had
happened, Drew
was on the floor.
He lay there,
confused for a
few seconds, then
got to his feet
and rushed at
Jerry again. I
screamed. Jerry
grabbed his arm
and twisted it.
Drew bellowed
in pain.
“Sarah
told you to leave,”
Jerry said. “I
think you’d
better do what
she said.”
He lifted Drew’s
arm just slightly.
He roared in agony
and sank almost
to his knees.
“Let’s
go out the door.
Now start walking.”
He pushed Drew
toward the kitchen
door, all the
while keeping
his grip firm.
In a moment, he
had pushed him
outside and walked
him down the steps.
Jerry
let him go.
“Don’t
come back in or
you’ll get
a lot worse than
what you just
got.” He
pointed. “Go.”
Drew
gaped at him.
Too stunned and
in too much pain
to answer, he
turned and walked
off toward where
his car was parked.
Jerry stood there
until he drove
away then turned
and went back
inside.
I
cried. Sossity
and Jerry comforted
me. After I calmed
down, I thanked
Jerry for getting
Drew out of the
apartment and
complimented him
on his ability
at the martial
arts.
“Just
call me Jackie
Chan,” he
grinned.
“Where
did you learn
karate?”
I asked.
He
smiled. “Karate?
Please! Karate
is so crude! That
was jujitsu—Japanese,
and the grandmother
of all martial
arts. Nothing
like a good joint-lock
to convince someone
they need to leave
the room.”
I
laughed. I need
to laugh. We sat
back down and
finished our beer.
Sossity asked
Jerry to step
outside just a
moment. After
he left, she came
over and put her
head against mine.
“Sarah,
you need to stay
at my place tonight.
He might come
back.”
“You
don’t think
he’d do
that, do you,
Sossity?”
“I
wouldn’t
put it past him.
Drew can be a
pretty nasty guy.
I think you ought
to stay with me
just to be on
the safe side.”
What
she said made
sense. We both
knew that side
of Drew. I told
her I would be
over to her place
at five. She said
good-bye and left
with Jerry.
When
she left I cried
more. The whole
thing had exhausted
me. I locked the
doors and windows,
took a shower,
laid down on the
bed, and eventually
dozed off.
My
phone ringing
woke me up. I
wondered if it
was Sossity. I
waited, too, wondering
if it might be
Drew. Sure enough,
it was. I didn’t
answer but let
it record.
Again,
I won’t
say what he said
because I don’t
like using that
kind of language.
I will repeat
one thing, and
that was that
he called me a
“pink.”
I
had never been
called this before,
and I think it
is the first time
in my life someone
has ever used
an epithet like
that to demean
me. I had heard
the term. Once
I watched a film
called Powder.
It was about an
albino kid. I
generally liked
the movie, but
it struck me as
kind of silly
because all the
kids in his school
and community
persecute him
and reject him
because of his
appearance—just
the opposite of
my experience.
I doubt that with
today’s
emphasis on diversity
and inclusion
that sort of thing
would really happen,
even in a small
town, but I remember
one of the things
the other kids
called him was
“a pink.”
So
it struck me as
curious and even
amusing. Humans
who are albino
don’t have
pink eyes, only
animal albinos
have pink eyes.
I smiled. Drew
did not even know
how to pull off
a proper insult.
I
went to Sossity's
house that night
and told her what
he had done.
“Call
the police. It’s
illegal to make
harassing phone
calls.”
“Sossity,
I don’t
think I could
do that. It would
ruin his career
as a musician.”
“Don’t
accommodate him.
He has no right
to intimidate
you. And if did
that who knows
what else he might
do.”
I
promised I would
report it tomorrow.
Sossity put on
some music, got
out a bottle of
Hibiki, an expensive
Japanese whisky.
One thing that
disturbs me about
Sossity is that
she drinks so
much. She’s
drunk about half
the time I see
her. I asked her
she came by such
expensive booze.
“I
got it at Sutton’s
Bay. A rich guy
was hitting on
me and bought
it as a sort of
gift/bribe after
one of my concerts.”
“Hitting
on you? Did he
get anywhere?”
She
smiled and raised
her eyebrows.
“Wouldn’t
you like to know?”
About
that time Jerry
called and asked
if he could come
over. Sossity
suggested we call
Tommy. He was
free that night
and said he would
be over.
I’ll
skip the details
of that night.
We hung around
Sossity's apartment,
flew in Jerry’s
plane, and generally
had a great time.
Tommy invited
me to come to
his house for
the Sabbath next
week. I told him
I would be there.
I
had never been
asked on a date
to do something
religious, but
things went well
and I had a great
time. His parents
were very natural
about their religion,
and I settled
in and enjoyed
the meal. After
we had finished,
Tommy asked me
if I wanted to
go for a walk.
“Can
you do that on
the Sabbath?”
I quipped.
He
grinned. “As
long as you don’t
go outside the
city limits. If
you do, you’re
only allowed to
go 2000 paces.”
I
laughed. “I
had to ask.”
We
walked down his
street. Night
had fallen. The
stars gleamed
in the sky. The
Sendeks lived
on a tree-lined
street. Tommy
held my hand and
then put his arm
around me.
“You’re
quiet tonight,”
I said.
“I’ve
got a lot on my
mind.”
“About
what?”
“The
game. It’s
a lot of pressure
on all of us.”
He paused and
then added, “I’m
also only a few
points away from
breaking the scoring
record for Michigan
collegiate ball.
I’m a little
stressed out about
that too.”
“Why?”
“On
the one hand,
I’m competitive.
I would not be
a good athlete
if I weren’t.
So I want to break
the mark, and
that’s on
my mind. On the
other hand, it
seems like a lot
of silly crap.
I asked myself
why I should care
and why I’m
getting all stressed
out about it.”
“I
was never much
of an athlete.”
“I
like to play but
I don’t
live and die on
sports. It’s
a paradox, I guess.
People come up
to me all excited
and start talking
about our team
record or my scoring
and how well I
play. Then they
start reciting
statistics from
their favorite
team’s last
twenty seasons.
I feel like saying,
‘Get a life.’
I wonder if that’s
all they have
to think about.”
We
walked on. When
we came to a place
concealed by trees,
he turned to face
me and leaned
in to kiss me.
We made out for
ten minutes or
so. It was so
sweet. Tommy was
shy, but when
we kissed, I caught
some of the fire
that made him
a good athlete
and made him so
devoted to his
faith. I felt
his passion and
it melted me.
We walked back
to his house.
I said I needed
to go and thanked
his parents for
inviting me over.
His mother and
I made a date
to get together
for lunch. He
walked me to my
car and kissed
me good-night.
That
was the weekend
I fell in love
with him. This
may seem a little
sudden, but I
tend to be like
that. Yet when
I make decisions
that seem impetuous,
they usually turn
out to be good
decisions. My
heart-driven instincts
are almost always
right—decisions
such as the one
to dump Drew end
up being wise
and prudent. Desire
for Tommy fell
on me suddenly
like a wave might
engulf you out
in the water;
but it also turned
out to be a good
choice, one that
would change my
life for the better.
We
started dating
regularly. As
the day of the
big game approached,
he felt more apprehension.
The local television
stations did a
feature on him,
a profile of the
top player and
scorer who was
so religiously
devout. One day
at work, I got
a call as well.
They
wanted to interview
me. We talked
about it when
he dropped me
off at my apartment
after we went
to the movies.
“Do
you think that
would be a good
idea?” I
asked him.
“Why
wouldn’t
it?”
“Well
. . . I’m
different, you
know.”
“So
what? So am I.
That’s how
this whole thing
started.”
He
kissed me good-night.
He started to
go but I held
on to him.
“I
want you to stay
with me tonight,”
I said.
He
did not reply
at first. I wondered
if he would deny
because of religious
reasons. But he
kissed me again
and nodded and
we went inside.
It was so sweet
to be his lover
and to have him
there in the morning
as I got ready
to go to work.
We had breakfast
together and went
our separate ways—he
to school, me
to my job. I felt
so happy two people
at work asked
me if it was my
birthday.
I
granted an interview.
The story was
on the 6:00 news
the next day.
Doing it was a
mistake. Everyone
in the clinic
where I work,
from the doctors,
nurses, my co-workers
in Research, even
a lot of the patients,
saw the report
and mentioned
it. The whole
thing also made
me more conspicuous.
I stand out enough
as it is. I don’t
try to hide but
I mostly work
in a lab doing
tests and helping
the doctors with
research data
and with the projects
they do to develop
better surgical
and pharmaceutical
techniques for
heart patients.
I am not one of
the up-front people,
and it suits my
disposition to
be out of the
mainstream, quietly
working in a more
private setting.
Now everyone who
came to the clinic
for any reason
wanted to meet
the albino girl
who was Tommy
Sendek’s
girlfriend.
The
publicity also
got Drew’s
attention. He
made another obscene
phone call.
I
had not done anything
about the first
call, despite
Sossity's counsel.
This time, though,
I felt frightened.
I called her.
She came over.
We called the
phone company.
They listened
to the recording
and said I should
file a complaint
with the police.
Harassing and
obscene phone
calls were illegal.
Once more I hesitated
but Sossity said
I needed to act.
They offered to
change my phone
number. I said
I would think
about it. Afterwards,
we sat at my kitchen
table and drank
a bottle of wine
I had. Sossity
told me I needed
to be more careful
about Drew.
“He
can get out of
control,”
she said.
“How
well do you know
him?” I
asked.
“I’ve
known him a lot
longer than you,
Sarah, and there
are some things
about him you
might want to
know.”
“Such
as?”
“One
night he tried
to rape me.”
I
was so shocked
I couldn’t
say anything.
I just stared
at her.
“We
were both drunk.
I guess it was
the typical date-rape
scenario. I went
to his place.
He started making
moves on me. Pretty
soon he’s
got me penned
down telling me
if won’t
give it to him
he’ll take
it. I managed
to fight him off.
Of course, afterwards
he was all weepy
and sorry and
said he was drunk,
could I ever forgive
him, all that
crap.”
Drew
often did things
that were rude
or inappropriate
and then got remorseful
and asked my forgiveness.
“What
did you do?”
I asked.
“I
stayed away from
him as best I
could. But I saw
him so much at
music venues it
was hard to brush
him off entirely.
Every time I’d
run into him he
would say he hoped
I wouldn’t
shut him out completely
because of something
he did while he
was drunk. I’ve
tried to at least
be cordial with
him since then.
I think when he
let me open for
you guys it was
also an attempt
to smooth things
over.”
“Do
you think he was
sincere when he
apologized?’
“Probably.
But with a guy
like Drew you’ve
got to be careful.
His way of seeing
things is very
self-justifying.”
She
suggested I stay
with her again
but I told her
no. She had a
gig that night
at the Brick Barn,
a local bar I
went to a lot.
I said I would
drop in and listen.
She asked me how
Tommy and I were
hitting it off.
My face lit up
so much that Sossity
laughed.
“You’ve
answered me without
saying a word,”
she said.
Sossity
had to go get
ready for her
show. These new
revelations about
Drew alarmed me.
His pig-headed
attitude and fits
of anger had amused
me, but now I
saw a darker side
to him. Maybe
I should be more
cautious, I thought.
The wine made
me sleepy. I put
on some music,
lay down on the
sofa, and dozed.
Tommy called.
I said nothing
about Drew but
I know he sensed
I was upset. He
told me he would
drop in at the
Brick Barn tonight.
He could not stay
long but would
at least drop
by to see me.
A
couple of girlfriends
from work came
by. We had a pizza
delivered and
ate together.
One of them had
brought a six-pack
of beer. Having
put down quite
a bit of wine
with Sossity and
then beer on top
of it, I was a
little drunk when
I got to the Brick
Barn.
The
place was crowded
and hot. I felt
light-headed and
stumbled from
the booze I’d
drunk. I had the
luck to find a
place a bar when
someone got up
to leave. I sat
down and, not
wanting to drink
more alcohol,
ordered a virgin
daiquiri. I heard
someone call me,
turned, and saw
Drew sitting at
a table just behind
me.
He
sat there with
a girl I did not
recognize and
a guy who looked
like him. I assumed
it was his brother.
“Hello,
Sarah,”
he said.
This
angered me. He
had made two phone
calls where he
insulted me with
the worst language
a man can use
and now he spoke
like we were cordial
buddies. I turned
to face the bar.
After I got my
drink and set
up my tab, he
came up behind
me.
“Sarah,
don’t you
want to talk to
me?”
I
turned to him.
My face was only
an inch or two
away from his.
I think being
drunk made me
react more intensely.
“Yes,
I do. I want to
tell you this.
You make one more
obscene phone
call and I’ll
go to the police.
I’ve got
the calls recorded
and I’ll
turn you in, so
help me God. You
can see what that
does for your
singing career.”
He
opened his mouth
to say something
but seemed to
hesitate. Right
then Jerry Watanabe
came up.
“Everything
all right here?”
he asked.
“It’s
all right, Jerry,”
I said, suddenly
afraid something
bad would happen.
Drew
sneered. “Well—the
Karate Kid.”
“That’s
me,” Jerry
shot back.
“Yes,”
Drew went on,
“the Asian
superhero. Is
it Fortune Cookie
Man?”
“No,
it’s Knockie-Shittie-Outa-Youee
Man if you don’t
shut up.”
Right
at that moment
someone pushed
in between them.
It was Denny,
the bouncer, who,
ironically, was
also Asian (Chinese
I think). A huge
guy who had been
a football player
and was a body
builder, he put
a finger on Drew’s
chest and on Jerry’s
and pushed them
apart slightly.
“You
guys can it right
now. One more
word and you’re
both out the door.”
Each
of them drew back.
Neither wanted
to be kicked out.
And Denny could
have broken either
of them in half
with a minimum
of effort. Even
Jerry, with his
skill at martial
arts, sensed as
much.
“I’m
keeping an eye
on both of you,”
Denny continued.
“If either
of you even looks
like you’re
going to make
trouble, you’re
out of here. Now
why don’t
you head back
to your tables
and chill for
a while?”
Drew
stood a moment,
as if to at least
slightly assert
his courage, but
then went back
to his table.
Denny looked at
Jerry.
“I
was going to invite
the lady to sit
with me,”
he said
“He’s
a friend,”
I affirmed, getting
up and taking
his hand. Denny
nodded and walked
away. I followed
Jerry back to
Sossity's table.
We
walked back to
a table in the
lower level of
the bar, by the
stage. Sossity
sat there. As
usually, she was
half-way to being
drunk. We kissed
and she asked
me how I was doing.
“Well,
I had a little
too much to drink.
And now I get
into a scrape
with Drew.”
I
had left my daiquiri
at the bar. Denny
brought it over
for me. I tried
not to cry but
pretty soon I
had my head on
Sossity's shoulder.
She patted me
and told me it
would be all right.
I could smell
the whisky on
her breath. Jerry
held my hand.
I
was tired and
drunk but I also
realized something.
You realize things
about yourself
at such odd times.
Albinos
generally stay
out of the sun.
I remember reading
a novel called
Nectar in a Sieve
for a literature
class when I was
in college. The
woman in the story
(a Hindu story)
has an albino
child. The husband
remarks at once
point that the
child is unlike
others and seeks
the shade. I saw
that I seek the
shade in a sense—aware
of my difference
I try to work
inconspicuously
and stay away
from public view.
I have never been
ashamed of the
way I look, but
now I saw that,
deep down, some
shame existed.
I avoided being
in the “sun.”
I did not like
to be out where
a lot of people
see me.
I
managed to stop
crying. Sossity
asked me if I
wanted to play
keyboards on a
number (this bar
kept keyboards
and a set of drums
set up on stage).
I could play even
though Sossity
was solo tonight.
I said I’d
think about it.
I wanted Tommy
to show up.
Sossity
took the stage.
The room filled
with people who
had come to see
her. I sat with
Jerry and finished
my daiquiri. When
Sossity began
to play, several
couples danced
up near where
she stood. I saw
Drew and his date
come down and
join the other
dancers.
I
watched him. Drew
is a great dancer.
I loved being
out on the floor
with him when
we used to go
to bars together.
The girl with
him looked pretty
and seemed happy
to be his date.
I felt alone,
even with Jerry
there. I noticed
Denny had positioned
himself near-by
in case Drew and
Jerry got into
it again.
Tommy
showed up. I felt
a flood of relief
and of love when
I saw him. Even
though he would
not stay too long,
I was glad he
was there. I kissed
him. He waved
at Drew, whom
he knew through
Phil, his brother,
who played on
the team (and
who was here tonight,
I remembered,
looking around
for him). We went
out on the floor
to dance.
Sossity
played fast, energetic
songs for the
dancers. After
a while, Tommy
said he wanted
to order something
to eat. Jerry
asked if he could
have the next
dance. We went
out on the floor.
When I came to
the table, Tommy
and Drew’s
brother were sitting
together.
Tommy
introduced us.
He looked like
Drew, though he
stood taller and
was in better
shape. I knew
I had to say something
about Drew so
I told them we
used to date.
“I
knew that,”
Tommy said. “Sossity
told me.”
I
silently breathed
in relief. I settled
back. I decided
I would have a
drink—a
real one, not
a non-alcoholic.
I ordered a whisky
sour when the
waitress came
by. Tommy and
Phil talked like
the old friends
they were. I watched
Drew dance with
his date, glanced
at his brother,
and saw Drew glance
our way when he
did a turn with
his date.
Again,
I had one of my
instant revelations.
I don’t
really think they
are revelations
in the religious
sense. I do not
imagine God gives
them to me or
anything like
that. They are
more suddenly
perceptions—instantaneous
understandings
of the motivations
that lead to actions,
so I see the courses
people plot by
noting their attitudes
and projecting
forward.
I
saw that Drew
and his brother
had plotted something
against Tommy.
I
wondered at first
if I had let myself
get paranoid.
Drew had made
me afraid of him
and made him angry.
And I loved Tommy.
So I thought perhaps
I had created
a delusional scenario
in my mind out
of the extreme
emotions I felt.
But by the time
my whisky got
there I decided
I had not made
an error and judgment
and my perception
was not delusive.
I could tell by
the look in Drew’s
eye and the recognition
in his brother’s
glance, that something
was afoot. I did
not even know
exactly what it
was, but I planned
to find out.
Drew
had greeted me
earlier in the
night as if nothing
had happened—and
he did so after
making a couple
of obscene phone
calls. I knew
he was hot-headed,
but what I realized
was that obscene
calls were made
deliberately.
They had not been
done out of anger
or hot-headedness.
They served a
place in what
he and his brother
wanted to do with
Tommy. I began
to see and I knew
the course of
action I had to
take.
First
I went to Drew
between songs.
I walked right
up to him and
his girlfriend
and asked if I
could talk to
him. His girlfriend
seemed a little
indignant, but
he smoothed her
ruffled feathers
and went with
me. We exited
by the back door
and stood outside
in the parking
lot.
“So,
ghostie. What’s
up?”
I
noted his reference
to my appearance.
“I
didn’t really
give you much
of a chance to
talk to me up
at the bar. I
guess I shouldn’t
have done that.
Why did you call
me and say those
things, Drew?
They really hurt
me. I cried all
day. I thought
you loved me and
then you go and
do something like
that.” My
voice even quavered
a little when
I said this. I
licked my lips
and went on. “So
I was angry but
I shouldn’t
talk to you like
I did at the bar.”
He
gaped at me. It
was chilly outside.
The cold stung
my legs and fingers
but I stood there
and watched. I
had thrown him
a curve. He did
not know what
to do. I waited.
“Well,”
he finally said,
“you know
how I am, Sarah.
I apologize. I
just . . .”
I
reached over and
touched him.
“I
know, Drew, and
it’s okay.”
“I
am sorry.”
He paused. “You
mean we’re
not finished?
I thought you
were pretty tight
with Tommy.”
I
shrugged. “I
like him. He’s
a good guy. But
remember what
I said. I said
we needed to get
away from each
other for a while.
I miss you, Drew.
I want to be friends
and want to have
it so if we decide
to get back together
we’ll both
be ready for that.”
He
looked at me.
I must have really
looked white standing
there in the shadows
of the back lot,
my hair and eyebrows
catching the light
from a street
lamp a block away.
He touched my
cheek.
“Do
you really mean
that, Sarah?”
I
put my fingers
over his.
“I
do.”
He
dropped his hand.
Once more, he
said nothing.
He seemed bewildered
but delighted
by what I had
told him.
“I’m
with Tommy,”
I went on, “but
that may not last
forever. I just
hope the two of
us can keep a
spark going.”
He
nodded eagerly.
“Me too.
Yes. Sarah. Look,
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry
I made those calls
and I hope you
can accept my
apology and forgive
me.”
“I
accept your apology,
Drew. It’s
fine.”
He
glanced toward
the door. “We’d
better go back
in before Bethany
comes out here
after us.”
I
laughed. I gave
him a kiss on
the cheek and
we went inside.
I was not finished
yet, though. There
was more to do.
Tommy left. I
kissed him good-night
and hurried back
into the bar.
At
break I talked
with Sossity.
She agreed to
what I asked and
said she knew
how to play the
song I wanted
to do. Fifteen
minutes into the
show, she asked
me to come up
on stage, introduced
me to the crowd,
and sat down in
a chair, tuning
her guitar (a
thing she seemed
perpetually to
do).
“You
might notice I’m
a little white,”
I said, holding
my arms straight
out. The crowd
laughed nervously.
“This is
how I was born,”
I said. “I’d
like to dedicate
a song about it
to my old friend,
Drew Mason, here
tonight.”
People who knew
him looked over;
a few people cheered.
“I used
to play for Drew’s
band. This number
is one he always
wanted me to sing.
Well, Drew, here
it is.”
I
nodded at Sossity.
She began the
guitar part that
gave the song,
“Into White,”
by Cat Stevens,
its odd combination
of easiness and
tension. Drew
and I had fought
about this song.
He thought it
would be cute
for me, with my
appearance, to
do it and I had
refused. I told
him it had nothing
to do with my
color and with
anyone being albino.
The “into
white” Stevens
mentions I always
took to be some
Zen Buddhist concept
of nothingness
(the song is filled
with paradoxes
and odd constructions
that suggest Zen
to me). I steadfastly
refused to sing
it. Now I sang
it just for him.
He
stood by his girlfriend
and watched with
bewilderment.
I did not play
the keyboard.
Sossity is a good
guitarist and
accompanied me
superbly and the
song is a soft
one so the solo
guitar was fine
on it. People
listened as my
voice rose and
fell. I sang from
my gut and sang
with feeling and
emotion. The crowd
tuned in. No one
danced. The room
got quiet. After
I finished, a
moment of silence
passed, then the
audience roared
its approval accompanied
by prolonged applause.
I smiled, bowed,
and motioned to
Sossity, who came
up behind me,
put her arms around
my waist, her
chin on my shoulder,
and waved at our
audience.
I
came down from
the stage with
Jerry.
“That
was good,”
he said, a little
puzzled by what
I had done.
“Better
than you’ll
ever know, Jerry,”
I told him.
Sossity
played another
hour. I danced
with Jerry until
she invited me
up again toward
the end of her
set. I played
piano on a blues
number then I
sang and played
keyboards for
the old Doctor
Demento song,
“Shaving
Cream,”
which got big
laughs. By that
time it was getting
late.
Like
I told Jerry,
I did a good job
that night. I
did not find out
how good my plan
had worked until
years later.
The
big basketball
game came and
went. Tommy played
superbly and his
team went on to
take a national
title. He graduated
as the state’s
leading scorer
at the collegiate
level, a record
still unbroken
(Phil Mason came
close but did
not equal what
Tommy had achieved).
His story got
a lot of press
coverage and the
press always wanted
me to pose with
him for pictures.
We got on national
TV and on the
internet.
Tommy
and I were soon
married. I converted
to Judaism—though,
as I’ve
told you, religion
doesn’t
mean a lot of
me. Tommy got
short-listed at
a couple of pro-team
camps and our
hopes were up,
but he got cut.
We moved to Italy
and he played
for an Italian
league there.
Italy is a beautiful
country and a
great place to
have children.
I worked hard
to learn the language
and worked translating
medical data for
a hospital near
Milan . We had
two children (our
son got the gene
for albinism,
our daughter did
not). We lived
there four years.
One
day, sitting under
an umbrella at
an outdoor café
in Naphlion ,
Greece , where
we were vacationing,
someone came up
and asked me if
was from Grand
Rapids , Michigan
.
I
said yes, vaguely
recognizing her,
and invited her
to sit down. Over
a glass of wine
she identified
herself as Bethany
Andrews and said
she had dated
Drew Mason. I
remembered her
as the girl with
him that night
I did the Cat
Stevens song in
the Brickbarn.
She had come over
on a study tour
and happened to
see me.
“Are
you and Drew still
together?”
I asked.
She
said they had
married but divorced
after a year.
He had abused
and beat her.
She ended up in
emergency room
one night and
told the police
what he had done.
After the divorce
and after he had
served some jail
time, Drew went
to California
. He worked now
as a roady for
some minor rock
star and still
hoped to make
it big as a singer.
“That
night he came
to the bar with
his brother,”
she said, “they
planned to set
up your boyfriend.”
I
leaned forward.
“What
were they going
to do?”
“They
wanted to start
a fight with him.
Phil though he
could beat Tommy’s
record and go
on to be Michigan
’s leading
college scorer—but
not if Tommy kept
racking up the
points like he
was. If they could
get him in a fight,
they figured,
he would be ineligible
as a player. They
were going to
do it that night
by insulting you—saying
things about the
way you look.
They knew Tommy
would take offense
and they planned
to goad him into
throwing the first
punch. That would
have disqualified
him and put Phil
in a position
to out-do Tommy
on points.”
She
paused and sipped
her wine.
“Drew
told me about
what they had
planned.”
“He
told you?”
“You
dated Drew, didn’t
you? He’s
not very smart,
and he’s
so egotistical
he had to tell
someone. I was
really taken with
him then and didn’t
go against it.
I don’t
know what you
said to him when
you guys went
outside, but whatever
it was, he decided
not to pick a
fight with your
boyfriend. He
and Phil didn’t
speak to each
other for a year
after that. I
think they’re
still mad at each
other.”
We
talked on. She
seemed to feel
bad about how
she had acted
toward me that
night, though
all I remember
was a couple of
dirty looks from
her. I think she
was really ashamed
Drew had deceived
her and she had
not been wise
enough to see
through him. I
hugged her when
she left and said
we would keep
in contact.
When
the kids got a
little older,
we returned home.
Tommy tried out
for the Bulls
and got on the
team. That same
year that Sossity—by
then a superstar
with songs and
albums at the
top of the charts—asked
me to play keyboards
for her band.
I’m in the
band today. As
a professional
athlete, my husband
has an obscenely
high salary (athletes
get paid way too
much); but I make
more money than
he does. And I
still follow my
instincts.
Sossity's
marriage is breaking
up. I try to help.
I remember how
much she helped
me.
©
2008 by David
W. Landrum
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