The Boat...

**Trigger warning: Contains elements of murder and racism**

The year is 1953, the month of August in the deep South in Mississippi.

He was an evil man...this much she knew but there was something in her that longed for him. He had such a passion about himself and it drove her mad. He knew how to drive her to the edge of desire and then take himself back so she would want him even more. Even after twenty years of marriage, that passion and fire was still there. She stood looking out her window while doing the dishes, it was late...well past midnight and he wasn't home yet. She knew what he was doing, he came and went as he pleased. It was of no shock to her that he was cheating on her and probably with multiple women but it would do no good to bring it up to him. All that would get her is another beating and if the kids were in the room he'd get them too especially if they backtalked him. I mean he did take care of her and the kids; he paid all the bills. He was good to them when he hadn't been drinking. He was very kind and loving when he was off the bottle and wanted to spend time with them. He was a good man deep down, he was just trapped in a cycle that he couldn't control. It wasn't his fault after all because his father had been the same way with him and his mother. Finally, she saw his headlights pull into the driveway. She inhaled deeply never truly knowing what mood he'd be in when walking through that door. He stepped in and slurred, "Why are you still up woman?"She could smell the whiskey from twenty feet away. So, he had been at the bar this time...Stammering she replied, "I was doing the dishes." That seemed sufficient for the moment as he grunted his consent and went up the stairs to the bedroom. She let out a deep breath and went to bed. They had three children together...a boy and two girls. She prayed every night that the children would not turn out like him but she felt so stuck, tired, isolated and lonely. Sometimes she thought about leaving but quickly would get rid of those thoughts as she knew she couldn't make it on her own. All she'd ever known was her life with him as a wife and mother; how would she support herself much less three children? The man was full of hate though. So much so she could see it in his eyes sometimes. It was like he just hated the world and everyone in it including himself. She never dealt with the money affairs of her household so she had no idea how anything worked let alone how much they actually had in the bank. He gave her an allowance every week to go buy groceries and that was the only time she was allowed outside the home. That being said the next day was Saturday so she was allowed to go to the Piggly Wiggly in town to gather groceries for her family while her husband watched the children. She was only given $6 a week to buy groceries for her family of 5 so she had to be strategic in how she shopped. She could not go over. While shopping and looking for the best deal on flour she overheard someone say there was a boat on fire at the docks and a couple of men left to go help the firemen put out the fire. She lived in Mississippi very close to the water so the boat dock was not that far at all from the grocery store. She finished with her shopping and was happy to be .50 cents under this week. She would treat the children to an ice cream. She came out of the store just in time to see a stretcher being laid on the docks and the remains of a very charred man having a sheet be lain across him. It was such a terrible sight that she dropped her grocery bags. How absolutely terrible! People around her were saying things, it was all a buzz in her ears...Someone must have set that fire... that's the black man Ol' Mr. Jackson...he musta ticked someone off! That night while she was cooking supper she told her husband about Ol' Mr. Jackson and how someone musta killed him. I mean that's what everyone in town was saying. He jumped out of his seat as fast as lighting and was at her neck with his hands wrapped around before she could blink..."What makes you say that?!" He spat in her face. Fear pulsated through her body as she realized that he might kill her. "Well, nothing....that's just what everyone in town was saying." she trembled. He saw that he had done his job by giving her some fear to shut up and released his grip adding, "Well, no one would believe you anyway and everyone else just needs to shut up. What proof do they have? Just some nosey busy bodies that don't know nothing about anything." She replied, " I have no idea...your right. Just rumors...I'm sure." She went back to her supper like nothing had happened just like she was supposed to, all the while feeling of her throat where his hands had left red marks from just moments before... Later that night, she was tucking in her son of 10 years old and asking about his day with his dad since her girls who were older had stayed behind at the house while her husband had run errands with their son. "Was it a good day? What did y'all do?" "Well, daddy took me to get some lunch and then we went to see his friends. They were discussing boring things but then someone mentioned how Ol' Mr. Jackson owed them some money and still hadn't paid." Suddenly, her ears perked up."Oh?" She asked her son. "Yeah..." then he grew eerily quiet. "Did something happen?" she asked. Her son shook his head... "You can tell me you know. I promise I won't tell dad." Her son took a deep breath then said, "Well, we went for a walk after that with a couple of daddy's friends. We were walking on the boat dock and it was so hot. I just wanted to go get an ice cream but daddy said he had one more errand to run. We walked past this one boat and daddy took his matches out which was weird because he already had a lit cigarette." Her son took a ragged breath and started to cry. "He threw it in the boat mama. There was a man in there, I could hear him screaming. Daddy just kept walking and said "Damn niggers... what does that mean?" Horrified by what she had just heard she shushed her son as best she could and left the room. He would be home late tonight, he always was on Saturday nights. If he came home at all. He left right before or right after supper and was gone most of the night. Something inside her was cracking, breaking apart though she didn't know what exactly. She felt she was going a bit mad.... The next morning after a restless night of sleep she awoke to her husband passed out on the couch. He had been drinking no doubt by the posture of his slouched figure. She could always tell by looking at him and listening to his breath and just how deeply he was breathing on if he had been drinking. He was dead to the world right now...dead to her as well. Almost robotically she went to the shed and retrieved the one thing she thought her husband needed the most...back at the house she washed the house and him with all the sins of the past and prayed for a new future. With that she she got her three children up and dressed for the day and then opened her front door to a bright new future and as she did she flicked a small match onto her past and as their past was catching fire behind them she simply said, "Who wants an ice cream?" After all, she still had that .50 cents.