“Where is your nigger friend?” Matt taunted as he entered the barn from the back side, late as usual.
Kevin could smell beer on Matt’s breath and figured he’d been out most of the night with his friends partying, up to no good. Matt was obviously referring to Leonard, who was late himself. Arriving on time, he’d started cleaning stalls by himself while Clint fed the horses at the other end of the barn. Kevin ignored Matt’s question as he continued to scoop manure from the bottom of the stall and drop it into a wheelbarrow. Matt leaned further into the stall, both his arms crossed just under his chin on the stall wall.
“Hey, greenhorn!” Matt said as he kicked his boot on the bottom board of the stall in order to get Kevin’s attention.
Kevin had heard him the first time, but didn’t want to answer. He knew Matt had a mean streak and was always looking to bully someone. With Matt being much stronger, older, and bigger, he felt the best strategy was to avoid confrontation. If he said the wrong thing, Matt would surely make his life miserable in every possible way.
“I said, where is your nigger friend? Have you gone deaf?”
Leonard was about to enter the open barn door no more than ten feet behind Matt. However, when he heard Matt refer to him as a “nigger,” he stood frozen in his tracks. What now? His heart and head pounded with confusion and indecision.
Aware of the nasty disposition of his fellow ranch hand, Leonard weighed his options. On the bully scale of one to ten, Matt was a perfect ten.
Careful not to make a sound, Leonard slowly took a step backward into the shadow of the barn door, just out of sight. He could not see them, but it was easy enough to hear the conversation, even though Matt’s volume was fairly low. Probably so Clint couldn’t hear him.
“I’m not deaf,” Kevin replied.
“Well, we’ve established you ain’t deaf. Now where is your nigger friend?”
“He’s just running a little late. He should be here in just a few minutes.”
“Why do you hang around with him anyway? Can’t you find any white friends? Hell, you’d be better off hanging around a Mexican than a black boy.”
Silence.
“You know, I don’t have much tolerance for tardy black boys. I might have to fire that boy.”
Leonard knew that Matt didn’t have the authority to do that; he was just flexing his muscle and being what he was, a bully. Still, he waited.
“So, I guess you hang around Leonard because you don’t know how to find any white friends, is that right?”
Silence.
“You know what that makes you? That makes you a nigger lover, and there ain’t nothing lower on the face of this earth than that. That makes you worse than your friend.”
Matt sounded like he was becoming more and more agitated because Kevin wasn’t responding to his barbs. Why wasn’t he responding to his barbs?
From further down the barn, Leonard heard Clint: “Matt! Get down here and start on the eastside stalls before I send you home.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Clint. I’m on the way right now,” Matt hollered back, then in a softer tone, “I guess I will talk to you later, nigger lover.”
The conversation now over, Leonard still had a choice to make. Enter the barn? Discuss what he’d heard? Go home?
Chewing on the side of his thumbnail, he made up his mind. He turned and walked back across the pasture to his house.
The sun had not quite stirred up enough light for his silhouette to be obvious. He moved quickly and quietly, a horrible pain in his chest. Betrayal, that’s what he was feeling. He felt betrayed by Kevin. Even though Matt was much bigger and stronger, Kevin could have said something, put up some sort of resistance to that hateful speech. Leonard’s emotions were many: anger, remorse sadness, fear. And loneliness, like he hadn’t a friend in the world who would stand up for him. At the same time, he was thankful he had not walked in that barn and been made to endure the verbal and possibly physical brutality that Matt could surely dish out.
The morning passed slowly as stalls were cleaned and horses fed and items on the chalkboard checked off. Bo emerged from the ranch house and greeted everyone as he walked to Whisky’s stall. Without much conversation other than the standard greetings, he saddled up and rode off toward the back portion of the pasture, the same as he did most mornings.
Clint’s eyes followed them for a few minutes. He inhaled deeply the smells of a ranch morning, thinking about Kevin and Matt and what was going on between them. He could sense the tension and managed to keep them separated, performing tasks at opposite ends of the barn and outside buildings. At nine o’clock, Clint gave the okay for Kevin to knock off for the day. He held back Matt, on the other hand, to perform a few more tasks, but mostly to keep him from harassing Kevin on his way home.
Kevin strode quickly through the property, heading straight in the direction of Leonard’s house. His buddy had never missed work before.
Kevin fretted, each step adding a new worry to his mind: Did he oversleep? Is he sick? Did something happen at home? Is someone hurt? Multiple scenarios reeled through his mind, all leading to one conclusion. Worried for his friend, Kevin needed to get to him as quickly as possible. He picked up the pace.
The walk across the pasture was about five hundred yards to Leonard’s back door. It only took him a few minutes to reach it, but the time seemed much longer to him. He knocked. Leonard’s mother opened the door wide, greeting him with a friendly smile.
“Well, good morning, Kevin. How are you?”
“Fine, Mrs. Parker. Uh, is Leonard okay?”
“Why do you ask that?” Lynette’s face dropped to a frown.
“Because he didn’t show up for work this morning.”
“Are you sure? I heard him get up this morning and leave.”
Concerned, she turned and headed in the direction of Leonard’s room, which was at the very end of the long hallway. Kevin followed close behind her. They passed the kitchen where Leonard’s cereal bowl was still sitting on the table. Now more horrible thoughts were creeping into Kevin’s head. What if something happened to Leonard on the way to the ranch? What if he was injured walking in the dark across the pasture? What if Matt got to him?
Kevin wouldn’t put it past Matt to ambush Leonard and beat him up, leaving him out in the grass, lying in a pool of his own blood, unable to call for help, wondering who would come looking for him and when. Yeah, that had to be it. Matt had hurt Leonard! Before Matt got to the barn, he’d ambushed Leonard and then acted as if nothing was wrong. My God, I may have walked right past him lying in the grass. I’ve got to go back and save him.
As he thought through all of this, Mrs. Parker approached Leonard’s room and knocked on the closed door. Kevin’s train of thought came to a stop when Leonard’s muffled voice responded.
“Leonard, are you okay? Kevin is here to see you.” Lynette opened the door to find her son face down on the bed. “Leonard?”
“Go away, Kevin. I don’t want to talk to you.”
Shocked, Lynette said, “Leonard! What in the world—?”
Kevin interrupted. “It’s okay, Mrs. Parker.” He was just as confused as she was, but he didn’t want to make it any worse.
Leonard’s mother nodded her head and pursed her lips. “I’ll just leave you boys to talk then,” she said. She gently ushered Kevin into the room and closed the door behind her, leaving the boys to work out things between themselves.
“Kevin, I don’t want to talk to you.” Leonard was emphatic in his tone, but his voice quivered slightly.
Is he angry? Kevin said, “Come on, Leonard, what’s wrong? I’ve been worried, thinking you were sick or hurt or something. Why didn’t you come to work today?”
No reply.
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
No reply.
Panic began to take hold. “Okay, are we still going fishing?”
“No!”
“Why not?” Kevin suddenly wanted to cry he was so frustrated. He wanted to know what the problem was so he could understand Leonard’s mood. But it didn’t look like Leonard was going to help him out on this one. He tried again, “Okay, enough of this. Come on and tell me what’s wrong with you, Leonard.”
Leonard rolled over and yanked the pillow off his head. He threw it down on the bed.
“You!” he spat. “You’re what’s wrong. I heard every word Matt said, and I heard every word you DIDN’T say!”
Kevin threw his hands up in the air, his face a ball of tension. “What are you talking about?”
“I did make it into work this morning. I was standing outside the barn door and heard your conversation with your buddy Matt.”
“I didn’t see you there. Why are you saying this?” Kevin’s tone was defiant, but his mind was transitioning to a slow realization.
“That’s because you were too busy . . . with your new friend. I heard what he said. I heard him call me a nigger.” Leonard’s voice was smooth now, in control, calm. More, it was also tinged with sadness. He’d had more than three hours to think about things and decide what to do, and his emotions had run the gamut. “You know, Kevin, this isn’t the first time I have been called a nigger by stupid whites. I knew they were just being mean and trying to lure me into a fight in order to prove that they were tough in front of their stupid friends. I have always felt out of place, been outnumbered since we’ve moved here. I have dealt with it by staying away from people like Matt. Their insults hurt, sure, but more than that, they just cut away at my hopes of fitting in at this school. I never had a best friend in school until you came along. And now I’m not so sure you’re actually a friend.” He added, “Just get out and leave me alone.”
There. He’d said it. He’d said the words he had been rehearsing all morning.
Mouth agape, Kevin shook his head. “No, Leonard, you got it all wrong. I never called you that word, Matt did. I don’t even believe in that kind of thing. You know that. You should have said something.”
Abruptly Leonard’s calm demeanor gave way to ire. He catapulted from the bed, took two quick steps, and shoved Kevin into the door.
Kevin offered no resistance nor did he attempt to stop Leonard. Though Kevin was being unjustly accused, he could see that his friend felt betrayed, hurt. He just wanted him to go back to being calm.
But no. As Kevin struggled to regain his balance and composure, Leonard raised his voice the loudest Kevin had ever heard it.
“No, Kevin!” Leonard shouted, his eyes filling with tears. “You should have said something! You should have stood up for me, had my back. But instead, you did nothing. I heard you do nothing. I bet after I left you never told him to stop calling me a nigger, did you? You see, there is a problem that you will never understand simply because of the color of your skin. That name Matt called me has been used forever to insult black people. It’s used to supposedly keep us in our place; it’s used to refer to us as something subhuman. It’s used by people who think they are better than us simply because of their skin color. Maybe if you read a book every now and then, you’d know about all that.”
Kevin started to say something, but Leonard was not finished. “Let me ask you a question, Kevin. Have you ever been called a name so repulsive that your anger and sadness are so huge that it surprises you? Scares you? I bet you have no idea. None.”
Kevin tried hard to understand Leonard’s point, but was taken back by the sheer fury that Leonard was showing toward him.
“Here, let me help you out. Let’s try a few words. How about cracker, or whitee, or honkee, or maybe redneck? Oh wait, I got one more, white trash. That’s the best I got, Kevin, a handful of insulting words. Not that bad? Does it conjure up any hatred in you at all? Does it make you angry the way I’m angry now?”
Fists in a ball, Leonard walked across the room to a large bookshelf that covered most of the wall under and around the sides of his window. Reaching up, he removed a book bound in hard, black leather. Kevin knew it was a book from his father’s collection, cherished by Leonard because of its wisdom as much as its sentimental value. It was written by a black author, W. E. Burghardt Du Bois, entitled Souls of Black Folk. Leonard turned to a page marked with a black ribbon and read aloud to Kevin.
“I remember well when the shadow swept across me. I was a little thing, away up in the hills of New England, where the dark Housatonic winds between Hoosac and Taghkanic to the sea. In a wee wooden schoolhouse, something put it into the boys’ and girls’ heads to buy gorgeous visiting-cards—ten cents a package—and exchange. The exchange was merry, till one girl, a tall newcomer, refused my card—refused it peremptorily, with a glance. Then it dawned upon me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the others; or like, mayhap, in heart and life and longing, but shut out from their world by a vast veil.
“I found this quote marked in my father’s book when I was eight, but I didn’t understand what it meant until the first time someone called me a nigger.” Leonard closed and returned the book to its place alongside many others on the shelf. He shot another look at Kevin. “I have one more question.” He peered intently into Kevin’s eyes. “Do you remember the first time someone called you a nigger?” He waited for the response he knew he would never hear.
“But I’m—”
“That’s right,” Leonard interrupted, “you’re not black and you’re definitely not a nigger, and neither am I.”
Leonard backed away from Kevin and continued. “I’ll share something with you, something you will never in your life experience. Something every black person encounters in their lives, usually when they’re pretty young. It’s the moment when we first feel our difference. It sticks in our heads forever. I remember that first time clearly, the pain of that word, always spoken out of hate. Just because I’m black and for no other reason than that.”
Leonard turned and fell back onto the bed face down, exhausted, resigned. He grabbed his pillow with both hands and pulled it over his head. In a muffled voice from under the pillow, he made a final statement to Kevin.
“Someone who is my friend would never use that word or let someone else call me that word. You don’t have the right. That word is a word of hatred, and if you are my friend, it shouldn’t be a part of us. Now go away, Kevin, and leave me alone.”
Kevin drew in a deep breath, slow and long, until he could take in no more, then held it as he decided what to do. He didn’t want things to end this way, but he also didn’t understand much of what was happening and didn’t know what to do. He struggled with his thoughts, then let go of that deep breath, equally slow and long. If there was anything he could do, he couldn’t see it. His chin tucked and his lips quivered as tears welled up in his eyes. He suddenly felt very lost in this once-familiar place. He turned to leave. He missed the door handle on his first reach for it. The room had changed: the walls shifted and the floor tilted to one side. The words of his best friend transmitted the finality of their relationship. He left the door to Leonard’s room open as he headed into the hall, where he bumped into Leonard’s mom, who shuffled him to the living room. She hugged Kevin.
“It’s okay, child. He is still your friend. The two of you will work this out, and all will be right as rain. He didn’t mean what he said. Just give it a little time.”
It was obvious that Lynette had been listening on the other side of the door. But her words brought little comfort, especially when he heard Leonard slam the door to his room.
The conversation with Leonard replayed repeatedly in his head, as did Matt’s taunts.
“What happened?” he said aloud as he walked home. “How did Leonard think I called him a nigger when it was Matt that said it and not me? What did I do wrong?” No matter how hard he tried, he could not find fault in his actions. But there was a thought creeping in on him, and it made him uncomfortable. Had he been a coward? Should he have told Matt to leave him alone and demanded that he not refer to his friend in that horrid way? But if he’d done that, he may have set Matt off, and he could have gotten hurt. Matt would welcome any reason to fight, especially someone younger and weaker. Matt was the poster child for bullies. Kevin had been afraid Matt would hurt him if he objected.
Coward?