Race and culture is commonly used to differentiate or celebrate people. On the flipside; race can be used to promote stereotypes and dissension. These superficial differences and common beliefs in people cause a disconnection; however; there sometimes takes an event to effect change in people from all walks. It's the winter of 2012 in Detroit; Michigan; a young man and woman drive home from separate locations after completing a long workday. An unfortunate fender bender during the commute leaves both of their automobiles damaged. It's the late evening as the two strangers await the arrival of police just outside downtown. Culturally different but otherwise similar in their stations in life; they are forced to come face to face with preconceived ideas of the other after the accident and proves to them both that where you come from doesn't dictate where you go or who you belong with. Can their programmed bias'; engrained stereotypes of different cultures; and family prevent them from going against the grain to explore a relationship as friends or more so despite what they have been raised to believe? Can love truly be colorblind?
Black Rain
By Rajah E. SmartAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Rajah E. Smart
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4772-5743-2Chapter One
White Pages
It's a quiet evening at the McMain home, as the family enjoys a traditional meal on this snowy, cold Friday evening. The chilly wind blows softly against the windowpanes throughout the house while icicles relax on the edge of the eaves troths, frozen over from the drop in temperature. It's a negative two-degree evening, as others in the neighborhood are bundled in their warm homes enjoying what's called Pure Michigan. The darkness will more than likely descend early, causing the small children who are playing outside to make tracks for the warmth of home. Businessmen and women are arriving home from work as well as retirees who decided to get out of the house to curve the cabin fever that accompanies winter. Winters in Michigan can be extreme, but at the same time, they possess a beauty that's displayed throughout the various landscapes.
Every Friday, the family comes together to talk. It has become more of a responsibility for Olivia to see her parents rather than a willing retreat after a long week. She sits on the sturdy maple chair, listening to her mother talk about the state of the country. It's sometimes hard to focus sitting within the dining room because it's laced in the many dishes Mrs. McMain has collected over the years during her travels in and out of the country. The dining room is covered with relics and antiques ranging from Irish to African design. She enjoys showing them off through the huge picture window in front of the home. As onlookers drive down the quiet neighborhood street, it's easy to catch a peak at her prized treasures as well as her family taking part in the custom they've created with one another for the past four years. The traditional maple dining room set pales in comparison to the many artifacts that surround this surprisingly cozy room.
The two-story 3,147 square feet home sits on five acres of land, and has been the McMain's home for all their daughter's life. It's an affluent neighborhood, with its massive square footage homes, excellent school system and old money. Bloomfield Hills has been the most affluent city within the State of Michigan for quite some time and their home for over 27 years. Olivia, their daughter, has led a primarily privileged life. She has had the best education, and access to perks some teenager's dream of daily. Being in the real world has taught her many things; especially about the glass wall her parents surrounded Olivia with throughout most of her life. In adulthood, Olivia is seeing things so much differently in her career as a corporate lawyer. Yet, because she has grown accustomed to the financial and emotional protection of her parents, Olivia tends to avoid rocking the boat. She has her whole career ahead of her, especially being a bright, intelligent, and beautiful young woman. She has the ability to go far.
Sitting there with her parents in her business heels, black skirt and white blouse, she listens attentively. Mr. McMain, who is a stern Republican with stern views on pro-life, the economy, education, and race, talks at her. Olivia can't help but disagree because of her own experiences while in college as well as in the workforce. While he talks politics, she reflects on the lessons he has taught her over the years about people and how they should stay in their place. Leaving the home years ago, she thought anyone who wasn't white and privileged was inferior. She doesn't believe her father meant to make her that way, but working side by side with different people has shown her different, especially with her own struggles through law school and life. Heavily religious, her family makes it clear that the "right" choices must be made for this country or else the system will fail. The dinners consist of the same conversation and Olivia grows extremely tired of them. There's no change, but on this night, Olivia finally changes the flow of the discussion that will awake conversation the dining room hasn't seen in years.
Steam rises from the tea cup brim, caressing the tip of Olivia's chin while her mom, Tina, watches her stare at her father. As Mike, Olivia's dad, sips his coffee made with a smidgen of cream and sugar, he discusses the reasons why the city of Detroit has succumbed to its troubles.
"Detroit was once a fine city, but when you have uneducated people making decisions about politics, and basing a candidates qualifications on what color he or she is, then it's a recipe for disaster," he blatantly states. "Being in a political office means being responsible for people as a whole, not just for people who look like you."
"But dad, haven't people been doing that for years?" Olivia questions her father for the first time, which causes him to look at her with intrigue. "Politicians have always scratched one another's backs. If we couldn't do that, some lobbyists wouldn't have jobs. Didn't we see this in the Bush Administration? So that's not really true. The difference is the skill of thievery."
"The skill of thievery? Are you trying to say that politicians for years have stolen from this country?"
"Well ... yes ... it's just like Monopoly. After spending and spending, the game will eventually stop. We saw it with Enron. These guys are more educated ... more educated to steal and swindle money out of people. If it were about what's right, then we wouldn't have poor systems. The decline in industry has destroyed this state, and that wasn't just the fault of uneducated people in Detroit. In part, the lack of education has bearing."
"That's awfully liberal of you sweetheart. You weave too many issues together."
"No ... I'm just telling the truth. I see both sides of the coin," she defends.
"So you're telling me that the decline of Detroit is not due to a lack of education, especially when crime has escalated in the city, and the drop out rate is through the roof. You have more of them wanting to play sports than be educated. Look at the welfare system. And this is not just a color, it's the city both black and white figuratively speaking."
"Really dad ... who is this "them" you really refer? And what qualifies us to judge anyone if we don't understand the life they've led. I'm not defending sports over education, but I am saying if there are no jobs, what's left? People want the American Dream and will do what it takes to live it."
"So it's okay to steal from others and corrupt city government by hiring family members to run positions? I thought I raised you better than this Olivia," he states.
"That's not what I'm saying at all. You're the one weaving. I'm just playing devil's advocate. What applies to one group should apply to others and poverty is poverty. Being poor doesn't have a color. You can tell me it's about the whole city, but I don't believe that. I'm still very conservative in my views; however, I also see other things. This doesn't mean I'll be running around in ghetto's trying to help people."
"You had me worried there for a minute," he says with a sigh of relief.
"Worried about what?"
"You switching sides. I will admit ... this was a good conversation. It was so good that I need a piece of coffee cake. Anyone up for some?"
Both women indicate no, prompting Mike to leave the table and walk to the kitchen for some cake. Tina takes a sip of her warm tea, wondering what's on her daughter's mind. She does seem a bit different, but Tina is too apprehensive to ask what's bothering her. Turning her spoon within the hot beverage, Olivia vaguely hears her mother talking to her.
"I told my friend Sarah about the work you were doing and she was so excited. I said, she was so excited," Tina repeats to get Olivia's attention.
"I'm sorry," realizing her mother was speaking to her " just a lot on my mind."
"What's wrong dear? You seem quite distant."
"It's just so rough out there ... you read the news and see all these crazy things going on, and how fickle people are. Just seeing things through different eyes I guess."
"What do you mean sweetheart? I don't understand what you mean." Tina inquires.
"One of my coworkers, who is African American, talks with me during the day sometimes. It's general conversation really and only if I ask her questions. She has so much to be angry about, but she isn't. At least I think she has a lot to be angry about. I would go so far as to say she's as smart as I am if not smarter, but she was overlooked for a job. She's been a clerk for years, and helped me learn so much; yet, a young white female, who is wet behind the ears, beat her out. The thought won't leave my mind. It just seems unfair."
"Maybe they have a reason for not hiring her based on her work ethic."
"She's there before it opens and after it closes. She also handles secretarial functions and that's not her job."
"Maybe she ..."
Olivia interrupts.
"No mom, maybe it is what it is, as she says to me. With the same education as well as passing the Bar, she's not good enough to hold the position. That's not fair and she's a good woman. Makes me feel guilty I guess."
"Life isn't fair, and some people have to live in this system the way it was created. It's still run by certain elitist ideas," Tina admits. "So, are you and her good friends?"
"No ... but we are somewhat alike. What separates us from being too close are those biases we've developed being raised in homes that don't trust other races."
"Are you saying that your dad and I did such a thing?" Tina asks defensively.
"Calm down mom ... I'm not accusing you two of anything ... just my perceptions growing up, and life. I'm happy I was allowed to have things because of dad's career and investments. To say your dad is a doctor is nice."
"Life isn't the same for all cultures. Some culture's priorities are just in different places."
"I guess so ... her wants are no different than mine though. Cultures don't seem to define a person."
A bit tired of the discussion and her mother's inability to understand her guilt, Olivia decides to leave.
"I'm going to head home ... I'll hug dad on the way out."
Before she could leave he comes into the dining room.
"Where are you going?" Mike asks. "I thought we would talk some more."
"I'm kind of tired. I'll come back this weekend." Olivia kisses her dad on the cheek and hugs her mother. Grabbing her coat off the hook by the door, she covers up tightly and opens the door to allow the stiff coldness inside.
"What's her problem?" Mike asks Tina.
"Just work dear. We went through the same things remember."
"Yes ... I just hope she doesn't let this stuff get to her. You can't have a bleeding heart for people who don't really want help."
The couple retreats to their den, removing their items from the table and turning off the light. Olivia watches them from her enormous yellow SUV. She's still thinking of her long day on the job. She thought the workforce would be more interesting while going through her college career. The money is great and she's more than sure she will get over the guilt of taking a position from someone who is more qualified. If anything, she will keep the job only because Olivia wants to show her dad she's capable of making it on her own.
Putting her oversized vehicle into reverse, she backs out of the long driveway. The sound of ice and snow can be heard under her huge tires as the truck slowly moves out of the driveway, and down the street. The cracking ice under the huge tires sound off, settling as the tires move. Olivia has thoughts of what it was like when she was growing up, when things were slightly less complicated, and there were less rules to live by. As kids, there were simple rules like brush your teeth, wash your face, eat all your vegetables, don't talk to strangers, and her all time favorite, don't eat too many sweets. With each passing street lamp, the light flashes in her SUV as if someone was snapping photos. It's kind of ironic really, because she's recalling snap shots in her mind of experiences.
Exiting on the main street, Olivia is in no mood to drive home so she decides to drive around to clear her mind. What has her so perplexed? She led her parents to believe that it's all about work when in reality; it's a combination of things. With her grown up responsibilities, commute to Detroit, and her recently failed relationship, she can't focus.
Making a left on to Woodward Avenue, Olivia thinks about Tod, the man she dated because he looks like a model out of a GQ Magazine, but acts like a kid in a Toy's R Us store. She tries hard to find something meaningful; however, Tod is at the top of a long list of failed boyfriends. They all seem to fall in the same category: no substance.
Growing up, guys like Tod surrounded her, but now she seeks someone with more, but not actively. She hopes the man will someday appear; yet, no energy is put into trying to find this man. Besides work and her girlfriend Jessica, there's not much of a social outlet.
Passing the many cars heading north and south on Woodward Avenue, she wonders what awaits them on their journey home. Olivia is quite far from Birmingham, her city of residence, but doesn't feel like sitting alone in her cold apartment. What awaits her in the apartment amounts to three stuffed animals, a French bread pizza and about 100 channels of a whole heap of nothing to watch. Olivia is in a mood and can't seem to shake the way she feels. Hearing the vibration in the brand new Prada purse she purchased just last week, she reaches in the bag, half paying attention to traffic. Looking at the screen, she sees it's Jessica. Answering the phone with her left and turning the heat down in the car with her right, she's multitasking as she normally does behind the wheel. She has become an expert at removing her hands from the steering wheel and driving with her knee.
"Hey girl," Olivia says with enthusiasm.
"Where are you? You were supposed to meet me at your apartment. You okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine ... so sorry though ... I totally forgot. Can you take a rain check? I'm just not in the mood."
"What's the matter? Tod still calling you? Just answer and talk to him," Jessica advises.
Sadly enough, Tod has been calling her. Each time she sees his name on her phone, she immediately grows angry. Just the thought of him brings back memories of why she's not with him.
"No, no, no ... I want to feel special. I want my mind to be engaged and it's just not with him," Olivia stresses.
"You need to lower your standards. You're too hard on guys," Jessica reiterates the point as she has so many times before.
"Why should I have to lower my standards? That's not fair to me. Besides ... guys bore me."
"Are you Lesbian now?" Jessica half wonders.
"Seriously Jessie."
"You seem to believe you deserve something when you don't give anything dear," Jessica boldly states. "You have to wake up friend ... choices are slimmer than your waist."
"Whatever ... I'm not settling for that, especially if I have to work hard in a career I don't enjoy."
"Don't let your dad hear you say that ... hang on a sec, let me back out of this spot." Jessica leaves the parking spot where she was waiting for Olivia. "Okay, just get you a man toy then to bide the time."
"Um ... no ... that's more your game. I want to be romanced and made to feel special. I don't think that's too much to ask Jessie. Why work all day if I have to come home to work? Figure that out for me."
"Like I said. Your standards are too high. What are you doing later?"
"I don't know. Right now I just need to drive around."
"Well, call me when you get home okay," Jessica says.
"I surely will."
Olivia hangs up the phone and places it back in her purse, taking her eyes off the road. No sooner does she take her eyes off the road, a blue Ford Fusion appears before her eyes. Not paying attention to the light being red, she runs it at 40 miles an hour, slamming into a car and pushing it into a light pole on the corner. The sounds of manipulated metal and shards of glass can be heard hitting the asphalt, as well as screeching tires. The two cars sit in the intersection, with the drivers caught in a temporary haze. The cracked windshield is the first thing Olivia can see; however, the motorists driving by can see the car materials that litter the ground. What's more odd about this scene is that no one is stopping to help.
The darkness has yet to descend on this landscape, but it will be coming soon. Thoughts of being close to downtown Detroit at night enter her mind, and without thinking clearly, she tries to start her car, which surprisingly turns over. Olivia moves it off to the side, parking on the corner. Being a young and cute white woman in an urban area of Detroit worries her. She was always told, "Never get caught in Detroit at night." Those who live in Michigan have probably heard this phrase as well. Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, she's panicking; hoping that whoever is in the car is not terribly injured from her irresponsibility. At the same time, she wants to hurry up and get this over with so she can get the hell out of Detroit.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Black Rainby Rajah E. Smart Copyright © 2012 by Rajah E. Smart. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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