In everything she did Anne meant well, or at least I thought so. She didn't come from much, a father who left when she was three and a mother who died shortly after birth. This left her with her white aunt who didn't look anything like her but still treated her with unimaginable kindness. She managed to stay out of trouble, focused on playing piano and talking to Jim, whom I think was the only real friend she ever had.
Living in Oklahoma was quiet for the most part, uniform skylines stretched out as far the eye could see. Her house was surrounded by towering evergreen trees that touched the skyline with a fondness and the rent was unbelievably inexpensive. But it was her senior year and the occasional McDonald's paycheck and her aunt's office job didn't bring Anne the joy that being as far as the stateline would. I knew she longed to escape.
In school she subjected herself to the white kids that grabbed her hair and smiled when their parents weren't looking and the few black kids that shook their head when they saw her and had long labeled her an oreo. Anne even looked alone. Her face couldn't hide emotion very well. Her sullen dark eyes that sunk into her face and the very fidgeting of her fingers sang of her dismay. I doubt that this helped attract anyone to talk to. Of course there was Jim and her aunt but I doubt she could talk to them when black people were being killed by police in Oklahoma like flies were swatted off sweaty foreheads. Anne couldn't rant to them about how her business teacher had told her that she should start wearing her hair professionally, which equated to being straightened.
I don't even think she dared to tell Jim about how being the only black girl when they went to rock concerts made her feel uncomfortable. I imagine she feared he would stop bringing her along. The shows were the only times she spent with groups of people her age outside of school and when the lights went down and the confederate flag keychains went into pockets, Anne could actually have a good time. Music was her best friend and her biggest comfort.
When she was a little girl she dreamed to run away with a guitar on her back and money in her pocket. Anne would've head to Tennessee where the honey was sweet and the music was gold. But I knew she also wished for Los Angeles, from the tourist stickers on her binders and the beach screensavers on her laptop.
But at the end of the day to see something, anything different would be enough. Once she left I thought she would be happy. Oklahoma had done her wrong and after graduation, I couldn't see her looking back.
