Calling Me Home

by Julie Kibler

Robert had saved me from something I could scarcely imagine, yet he was forbidden from seeing me home by virtue of this rule I’d never questioned before. I read the sign as if for the first time: NIGGER, DON’T LET THE SUN SET ON YOU HERE IN SHALERVILLE.

I’d never seen such a joyful group. The state of their clothing, threadbare and outdated in most cases, indicated they struggled with poverty, barely hanging on even as America finally emerged from terrible times, yet they seemed thankful regardless.

Maybe it wasn’t as in your face now as it had been back then, maybe it was no longer politically correct to keep someone out of your town just because of skin color, but that didn’t stop some folks.

“Remember this, Dorrie: Some men are just plain bad news. Then there are good men. They’ll do. Then there are good men you love. If you find one of the last kind, you’d better hang on to him with everything you have.”