Arrested by the Black Night
A true story of breaking and entering that made me appreciate being black.
Pierson's' bright white teeth resembled the sunrise. His smiles and laughs were like rays cascading over the Blue Ridge Mountains. As he lay on the plaid sofa, I glazed over him in jealousy. He had this confidence about him but never boasted. White privilege provided him with the first of all possibilities, and Pierson counted it as a blessing. His conviction to uphold justice and protect the weak led him to enlist in the Army. I stared at the white aura constantly illuminating around him wishing I could only absorb that glow.
Unfolding myself out of the sinking couch smelling of expired farts, I started down the hall towards my room, pretending to be tired. I didn’t fit in here. I was Devans, a goofy awkward black dude dwelling amongst six white college friends who named their pad The Igloo. What the hell was I thinking when I decided to move here?
Before I could even fib about bedtime, Pierson tried to rally us in the living room. He had something up his sleeve, and fear crept slowly up my back.
“Yo! Let’s break into the Old Hillsborough High School. I know a hidden pathway up to the roof.” I pretended not to hear.
“Bruh what? No way. Let’s make it happen!” Seth, another roommate, chugged the remainder of his local IPA he'd raved about all night, and set the empty bottle on the wobbly end table. As he ran down to his room, the hoppy beer aroma climbed my nose and rested on my tongue. My eyes widened while I bargained with Pierson. Saying no would feel as if I rejected Pierson, and it felt difficult to stamp that on my conscience.
"Your jeans gonna git another hole climbing through them windows, Seth," Amy , our next-door neighbor, responded. She somehow find a way to lounge at the Igloo on almost a daily basis, and I didn’t trust her. “But I know the way... I think,” Amy finished.
“Yeah it’s a labyrinth, Amy. You guys gotta see the top though! Devans, you coming?” Pierson slapped me on the back.
“I’ve never broken into a building,” I lied.
Funny. I reminisced when my two brothers and I finished the Slime show on Nickelodeon and ate our goulash that momma set out for us. While she spent 12 hours soldering wires, we tiptoed to the neighbor’s house, walked through their front door and stepped inside. I distinctly recall seeing their glass cabinets shaking as the chinaware danced on their shelves. If that wasn’t enough, nabbing all the tomatoes out back gave us a sense of liberation. O, that rich tomato garden...
Pierson's teeth gleamed. Ugh… the sunrise. He even raised his eyebrows heightening my fears. But I played the innocent Christian boy as I tried to conjure guilt trips in the bellies of my friends. “What if the police catch us?”
“What police, Devans? This is Hillsborough! There is no crime here, dude.” Seth laced up his duck boots.
No crime, I self-talked. I’m black. I’ve already committed a crime if I am suddenly caught by law enforcement. Guilty with no need for proof. Agreeing to compromise and feeling so much regret and resentment, I turned around and forced a grin. “Alright.”
My spirit expelled itself from my body and descended below the Underground Railroad to the ancestral plane. I couldn’t tell if my brown brothers and sisters heaped and hawed or wept drops of blood. How could I desire to be white and have such a disdain for melanin? My heart palpitated as my soul returned to its temporary dwelling place.
The knitted scarf from a coworker hugged my neck as I realized they had already left the Igloo. My feet rushed toward them out back almost somersaulting on the pavement. Dogwood leaves slapped me in the face as we snuck through the wooded area behind Elderberry’s Coffee Shop. There it stood across Route 24: Old Hillsborough High School. Ironically, the streetlight at the intersection turned red: a sign from the gods telling me to think twice.
Before we even stepped on the campus grounds, I charged myself with burglary. My anxiety put handcuffs around my wrists. As we stepped on the sidewalk, I pictured the precinct where I’d be processed. Pierson pulled the right door as it creaked open; the same sound of my future jail cell bars. The Old Hillsborough High School had the entrance open to the public, but all the classrooms were locked. The walls were dressed in cobwebs, and laced with asbestos. Several halls seemed to twist and go in all directions like a maze.
“Let’s split up and find an open window. It should lead us to the second story,” Pierson ran westward. Seth and Amy disappeared opposite direction. No fight or flight left in me, I became an iceberg. Call me a black sheep or odd one out, but I never really had a sense of belonging here in Hillsborough. It felt as if they were gone for an hour. Distant ambulance sirens caused me to jump and look back at the door but I couldn’t move a muscle. Just then, I heard a high-pitched squeal.
“Found it!” My eyes danced towards the back of my head as Seth followed Amy and Pierson . We all climbed into the window and were on the roof of the second floor. The generator on the roof blared and vibrated like a subwoofer. Frantically everyone searched for another unlocked entryway into the second-floor hallway, so we could break into another window leading to roof of the third story, and then the top of the building. Finally, an opening came into Amy's view but I fell far behind, ending up lost on the second floor. Scuffling and laughing from best buddies Pierson and Seth entered my ear so I knew we had reached our destination. Once I got my bearings, I saw Pierson waiting for me. I played Merlin, the servant boy, and looked upon my King of Camelot.
“C’mon Devans.” He didn’t want me to feel left out.
We finally reached the roof of Old Hillsborough High School. My head lifted to the sky and dilation began in my pupils. The sky was painted pitch black with hints of purple. The calming Blue Ridge Mountains were nowhere to be found as they drowned in the nightfall. Darkness erased the sun and shone the iridescence of city lights. I enjoyed this. For so long I depreciated the essence of blackness, darkness, natural dark colors, and hues. I gravitated and engaged with all that was yellow and pale and white and peach. But none of those were in the sky that night. No sunrise or even a sunset appeared. The city lights wouldn’t have shone bright without the dim atmosphere. Without black, there was no white. Everything had meaning. I had never captured such an array. I mean, we saw the entire city from this vantage point. I shut my eyes and embraced this moment in silence. For the first time in my life, I started to believe blackness begat beauty. I had to stand on top of a roof to figure that out.
“Devans." I opened my eyes and noticed Pierson suddenly turn his head towards me. “Isn’t this freaking wicked?” I bent my head down, once again captured by his white teeth, which had so much glow in the nightfall.
“Yeah, it is criminal,” I whispered.
Pierson, Seth , and Amy planted themselves on the ledge like northern mockingbirds. They peered down toward the streets for a rush of excitement. That was their moment. I loved it for them.
“You think I’m attractive, Peirs?” Amy rested her head on his shoulder.
He wrapping his hand around her jean jacket. “No, but Seth definitely is!” Their laughter echoed into the air, and their breath clouds united with the black sky.
Behind them, I stood 40 feet tall. The speed of my heart grew rapidly. And I felt good for being arrested by the black night.
“Hope Hangs”
I walked behind my superiors – I mean my friends.
I mean I always felt a step behind them;
Behind this melanin, this brittle cracked black skin;
this ebony that lags behind the epitome of perfection.
White college students with lives of confidence and ease,
privileged and offered the first of all possibilities.
Reality ate at me as did the Dogwood leaves.
The sap glued to my wool coat as we ran through trees.
I hated my infatuation of the crisp bright souls
hidden as deep as Tubman’s Underground Railroad.
We were closer to the grounds of Memorial Hall:
The Old Hillsborough High past the National Guard.
Behind Elderberry’s, I savored my last whiff of dark roast
and pretended the local brew gulped warmly down my throat.
Ruminating on possible cop chases, my amygdala grew;
Every leaf crinkle mimicking a popped balloon.
The minority report will read I’ve already been charged
with being black at night which is against the law.
I may have my picked my neighbor’s lock in 1997,
but we were children and didn’t know any better.
But now? Breaking and entering to see total darkness?
The red stoplight directed me to take a sharp exit.
From this vantage point, my anxiety arrests me.
From this vantage point, my humanity is extinct.
From this vantage point, my hope hangs from a noose.
From this vantage point, I cannot even follow suit.
Based on a true story... The names of persons and places have been changed to save face.
Written by Devans Eli. Copyright 2023 by Devans Eli. All rights reserved.
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And from this vantage point, my fingers snap 🫰🏽🫰🏽🫰🏽
I love this!! The way you open the story with comedy is amazing, and the way you delicately convey the realness of what you experienced that night...ugh!!!! I felt like I was there too.