Die For Me

I rolled up my towel and walked towards Joe who was standing in the shade. I had just finished another attempt to darken my really pale skin and succeeded only a little, while Joe, who was born with a natural tan as he likes to say, sat patiently under the trees on the beach shore, letting the water lick his toes.

“Ready to head back?” I asked him.

“Sure,” Joe answered as he walked towards the path we always take.

Our path kept us hidden from all the eyes of the other townsfolk since they hated black folks and whites who did not mind the company of blacks as friends. So, instead of offending others and risking experiencing their wrath just because we were friends, we kept our friendship well hidden by taking paths and going places that only we knew about. But today I was feeling very adventurous.

“Say, Joe,” I said. “It’s pretty early, ain’t it? Why don’t we take the main road today? No one’s out and about.”

Joe sent a smooth white stone skipping across the water. Then we watched it sink into oblivion. “You know, you folks don’t like my folks.”

I guess he was referring to the whites not liking the blacks. I still couldn’t understand why white people don’t like black people and vice versa. “But basically, no one’s awake! Come, on Joe. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Gone with that rock,” Joe sighed. “Life’s harder for me than you. I’m black, remember?”

“That don’t mean nothin’.”

“Yeah, it do.”

Well, I knew he was right so I continued searching my brain for ways to get him to take the main road with me. So I gave him the sweetest face that I could muster. “Please Joe. Please!”

His coal black eyes searched my crystal blue ones until his face relaxed. “Alright, then. I’ll give it a go.”

So off we started down the quiet road, Joe and I. The trees clapped softly as the birds sang their praises and the bees hummed. Under our shoes, the gravel made a soft crunching sound as the crickets and grasshoppers rushed to hop out of our way. Joe and I walked in step with nature’s song until we heard something that disrupted it.

“Is anyone there?” I called as Joe rushed and put a hand over my mouth. Moments later, I felt his body jerk from beside me along with hearing his muffled cries. I turned just in time to see him being dragged backwards into the forest on my left side. “Joe!”

Twigs and branches scratched my face as I tried to follow Joe. He was being dragged away by a man two times my size. Joe’s bronze arms reached out to me for help. I followed Joe and the man for a long while until we came to a circle in the forest with a large bonfire burning in the middle of it. Men in white robes with pointy hats with two holes cut out for their eyes stood around this bonfire in a wide circle as the other guy dragged Joe into the middle of the circle. One of the robed men gave Joe’s captor his robe back and he put it on as he gave Joe an evil glare. All the robed guys started to chant something as they closed further and further in on Joe. My heart started to beat faster as I wondered what was happening to him. Soon I heard punches and Joe’s muffled screams as I whispered his name. “Joe.” I closed my eyes until I heard the beating come to a close and mustered up enough courage to look at Joe.

Joe’s skin was broken and bleeding, especially in his face. One of his eyes was swollen shut and a ghastly cut ran from his brow, across his nose, to his left cheek. His clothes were torn so they looked like rags and scarcely covered his body. Instead of trying to get out of there, he stood stock still and waited for one of the robed men to act first. I felt a longing to go to him, but I seemed to be glued to my spot beside the bushes. I closed my eyes as they tortured Joe some more, and covered my ears so I would not hear his screams of agony. When I looked back over, the men had tied him up to a stick and placed him upright in the bonfire. Yellow and blue flames tickled his skin until it started to blister, but, surprisingly, he did not cry out; he merely looked at the men with profound pity and sadness in his eyes. One of the men spotted me in the bushes and called me over.

“Hey, you!” he called. “C’mere!”

Like the obedient child I was, I walked over to him, keeping my head down and my eyes averted from Joe.

“Townsfolk say you’re a nigger-lover; that true?”

I kept my mouth shut and my eyes downcast.

“Well, here’s a chance to redeem yourself. All you have to do is answer this question correctly. Would you die for this boy?”

“N-n-no, s-s-sir,” I said, and I felt guilt place its cloak on my shoulders as soon as the words came out of my mouth.

“Good. So then you’ll keep your mouth shut if anyone comes asking for this boy, right? Not that anyone really cares.”

“Y-y-yes, sir,” I said, as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Good. Mighty fine.”

Somehow I got the guts to look into the eyes of my dying friend, and saw so much disappointment in Joe’s eyes that it scared me. He looked dejected, used, and lonely. Somehow I got the feeling that he had died without ever having a true friend. I hung my head in shame and prayed that he knew that I had not set him up

Even though what was left of Joe’s body was found soon after he was burned, it was not until twenty years later, on Joe’s birthday, January 1, that I sat as a witness to his murder. At this time, the men who did the crime had all died except for one who admitted to killing him. My testimony would be the last element that would either send him to jail or keep him out, but I had to choose between keeping the promise I had made to their clan or trying to atone for what I had done to Joe by telling the truth and nothing but the truth.

I slowly lifted my head up high, smiled at the ceiling and whispered, “This is for you, Joe. Hope this counts for something.”

As I began to tell everything that happened the way it actually happened, I could feel Joe’s black eyes on me filled with forgiveness and his smile filled with approval.