Dusk was slowly creeping upon the day, and as we walked our bodies slipped into shadow. We were a marvelous trio; Tim, Angela, and I. Since the day we met nothing, not even death itself, could have separated us, now life would. Each of us had picked a different university to attend, and tomorrow would be our last day together. Sadness was not really a part of the equation. Our conversations consisted mostly of nervous chatter due to anxiety. Would we fit in? Would we change? Would we ever have moments like this again?

Soon we reached our destination; a little quaint Brazilian bakery, which we had cleverly coined as The Muffin Shop. We had traveled here so many times before because of the sheer fact that the muffins were notoriously good, and the atmosphere was perfect for, if nothing else, simply enjoying one great moment of life with friends. As we entered the restaurant, the bright colors coupled with the scent of freshly baked confections lightened our mood.

It was by no accident that we had come to the muffin shop at the end of the day. It was our hope that we might be given little extras with our orders at no charge. Let the game begin. Angela, the little cute Asian, would serve as the “primitive exotic” for no one can ever tell a beautiful girl no. Tim would be honored for possessing the Eurocentric feature of hazel green eyes. I, on the other hand, would have to depend on the Magic If. If my hair were straight enough, my skin light enough, and my lips small enough, I too would be treated special. This was not the first time we had put this course of action into play. Though it was innately wrong, we never much gave it a second thought because above all things, it worked. As we left the restaurant that night we closed the book on many memories, and I would soon close the door on that way of thinking. We wanted to be treated special and despite years of freedom nothing seemed to be able to dispel the societal conditioning and indoctrination of our grandparents’ generation.

As we descended into the night, our first stop was Angela’s car. After a long embrace and one last mischievous smile, it was just me and Tim. He walked in silence and I in awe. Out of everyone I knew he was the one person I most admired and even somewhat envied. He seemed so focus and fearless. His future success would not come as a surprise. As we rounded the corner to my car, I suddenly became aware of other people in our vicinity. A group of young white teenage boys were apparently hanging out in parking lot. I let out a sigh of relief noting the harmlessness of the situation. I continued with filler conversation mindlessly repeating questions that had already been asked. Tim fell silent. As we passed the boys, a word barely audible escaped from one of there lips.

“Nig.”

I was so shocked and startled that they’d even address us at all, I was left speechless. They proceeded, this time without fear.

“Hey Nig.”

Were they really talking to us?

“Nig! Hey Nig! Nig!”

As they began to approach, I soon discovered that they were not referring to us at all but to Tim. They maneuvered themselves in between us and began to encircle Tim.

“Where you goin’, Nig? What are you doin’?”

The malice questioning continued, and no amount of hazel green could do a bit of good to stop it. In that moment of terror I secretly thanked God that they were not able to distinguish me or had never wanted me in the first place.

Soon they stopped. They left unaware of what their little joke had destroyed. Tim, my best friend and brother, stood stripped of dignity and utterly emasculated. There was nothing I could do and certainly nothing I could say. We ended the night in silence.

Carmen Coffee

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