The Colours of August MxM (Staten Krown)

4

"What's going on?"

I remember waking up. I'm in a car. It's one of the Crawford cars. I know the car well because every Saturday I wash it. I'm surprised when I see I'm in the passenger seat, slumped over and bloody. August Crawford is driving. He has a focus in his eyes. My voice is weak.

"Chuck and his...his fucking people...they violated you," he says.

He says it as a matter of fact. He has this depth to him though. When we were young Beau would take out a wrench. He'd twist at the old Mueller fire hydrant until it sprayed out water. The rest of the boys in the neighborhood would run around feeling a relief from the hot Alabama sun. I was always the weird one to try to plug up one of those holes. I'd put my little finger in there and see how long I could hold it. Looking at August I can almost see him doing the same thing as he was driving. He was trying to see how long he could hold it all from coming out.

"Chuck wouldn't do that..."

"He did goddam it. I saw it myself. I warned you. I tried to warn you."

I remember flashes. It's all coming back to me now. I was about to leave for the day when two white boys come in at first. The door is open. I remember hearing the others outside. I remember thinking this is no good. I remember when they question me about Beau, Lil' Lonny and Shug. I lie. They weren't getting answers from me. Then more come in and more. They are nice at first, gentleman-like. Until one of them gets mad and hits me. Then it's a release. It's like my hand unplugging from the fire hydrant. They all feed off that energy. Wild dogs in the night.

But was Chuck was one of those boys? Would he really have done that to me?
"Where we going?"

"Hospital. Then I'm gonna call the law..."

"You crazy?"

August looks over at me. He has these innocent eyes. I'd be surprised if he ever met a black person before today. I'd heard about his type. One of those boys from up North who felt like the world was full of mythical creatures and fairytales like the type Old Ma'am used to tell Sissy and Lena when she was braiding their hair for church on Sunday.

"Ain't crazy. Those boys violated you. I saw it. My own eyes. I push them off. They just kept laughing. I could have killed them. You know that?" August says with his eyes burning red as fire, "I could have killed all them boys. Right there. You know that?"

He looks at me as though trying to prove a point to me.

It's bullshit. He wasn't going to kill no goddam body.

"Take me home."

"You hear what I told you?" he asks, "Those boys violated you."

I wasn't in no pain. I remember one time Shug got mad at me for telling Lena about him with another girl. He hit me so hard I spoke with a stutter for three days. That there was a pain. This wasn't nothin'. Nothin' those boys could do to me. I was born tougher.

"Cops won't do shit," I respond shaking my head, "Not to no damn Crawford. You wanna know what happens to a po' colored boy telling the law about a Crawford?"

He gives me a look. It's a concerned look.

"No, but..."

"Ain't no 'but'. Take me home. Please."

~

Reluctantly August takes me home. He looks at me every few minutes checking on me with his eyes. The boy doesn't speak the rest of the way. I'm terrified the whole time. I feel in the back of my mind that he is so damn dumb to go to the law anyway on Chuck Crawford. I can see it in his eyes. He's probably only known privilege. Where he was from he didn't have to worry about the fact that the sheriff was on Crawford's payroll. Hell one of the most popular judges in Birmingham was a goddam Crawford, some second cousin to Charlie Crawford himself. Ain't no Crawford going to jail over me. Hell, the police wouldn't even raise their voice too tough to Crawford.