Under the Sunset Series: Olivia Louise Dixon

Art By: Solomon Omogboye

Under the Sunset Series is a series of short stories that I write using artwork of Black women or girls as my prompt/inspiration.

I hated 2nd Thursdees out the month. Mama signed me up for etiquette class at Madame Marbury’s house. All’s I really wanted to do was race Jean Paul up and down Center Avenue. After I whooped his ass he'd pay me my $2.00 because ain't no race without a cash bet! Wit my money I'd get me a quarter water from the Deli and put the rest in my piggy bank. I always beat Jean Paul. He was slower than molasses. Fool tried to get me to race his cousin last summer. Cousin came all way up from Mississippi to race me. All week Jean Paul kept saying, "my cousin coming and he faster than Jessie Owens! He goin’ smoke you out your britches!” Whatever the hell that mean. I only raced for the money so I said, "your cousin gonna have to pay me double when I beat him since he ain’t from round here." "Aight, bet!" I took off running when I heard Rudy say “go!” Halfway down Center Jean Paul's cousin fell to the ground. Say he had on the wrong shoes. Say he tripped. Over his own feet? Man, it was a waste of my time! I could’ve been at the lake wit Daddy or picking figs off Ma June tree. I told Jean Paul he had to pay me $5.00 for wasting my summer day. "How your cousin wear Jesus sandals to a race anyway?"

At recess today Jean Paul stood up on the stump talking bout he let me win all those races cuz I’m a girl and his Nanny told him to be nice to girls. Say, “I’m tired of being nice,” and held up a crispy $5.00 bill. “Put up or shut up, Mighty Mouse!” I hated when he called me that! Besides, fool knew I couldn’t race today. He knew all the girls had to go to Madame Marbury’s house after school. I didn’t even have on the right clothes or shoes. Last month Madame Marbury made me stay after for 20 whole minutes to talk to me bout my “hygiene.” Say, don’t show up to her house no more with muddy shoes smelling like outside. I’d rather smell like outside than moth balls and Bengay that she tried to cover with Amber musk. Bengay smells so strong, makes my eyes water. I told Mama and she said, “be more intentional about how you look and more careful at recess next time that’s all.” I wanted to push Jean Paul off the stump but I knew if I did we’d start rumbling and I’d get dirty and have to hear Madame Marbury’s mouth. Mama would be disappointed in me too. So I went over to the other side to play Jacks with Cassie. 

“He stupid Livi don’t study him. Just mad cause he foot slow and book slow. I like your dress.” 

“Thank you.” 

Cassie was right. Too bad we couldn't be real friends. She was always nice to me but we just ain’t like the same things. She didn’t like to race, she always wore dresses, bow bows and frilly socks. I liked wearing sneakers and my fro. Today, I was intentional like Mama say to be. I pulled the flower dress Ma June bought me last Easter out the back of my closet. I put twisties in my hair by myself. No help from Mommy or my PMS big sister Dalia. There was only one green. I think Dalia took all the green twisties out the basket just to piss me off. Imma cut up her fashion magazines. She knows green is my favoritest color! I wore the Mary Janes Daddy got me and my frilly socks with O.L.D. stitched on them. O.L.D. do spell old but I'm only 10 in the 5th grade. O.L.D., thems my nitials. O is for Olivia, L is for Louise, and D is for Dixon. Olivia Louise Dixon. I love my name. Ma June stitched it with green thread. She know green’s my most favoritest color. I wasn’t gonna dirty it all up because of dirty ole Jean Paul either. After the bell rang Jean Paul bumped me in the hallway and I almost fell. I wanted to Joe Frazier his high yellow ass but I didn’t. I kept walking out the door with Cassie. 

When we got to Madame Marbury’s she looked me up and down and sniffed my neck. “Better” she said. Better? This ain't better, this is best! I did my best! What did this lady want from me? But I ain’t say it out loud. Mama would have a fit if I did. Daddy too. But I did have a turnip green attitude. Pretty to look at but nasty to taste. I sat down and put my elbows on her table and rested my chin in the palms of my hands. The other girls gasped. Cassie whispered, “Livi, your elbows!” I didn’t care. I was tired. Tired of it all! Madame Marbury came rushing over to the table and whacked it with her yardstick. 

"Madame Dixon get the encyclopedia, you owe me 10 minutes!" 

I rolled my eyes so hard, the left one started throbbing. 

"Make that 20 minutes Madame Dixon!" 

Whenever a girl would break one of Madame Marbury’s rules we’d have to walk back and forth in her parlor room with an encyclopedia on our head for 10 minutes. Elbows on the table and rolling my eyes got me double the time. I didn’t care. I’d rather be walking with an encyclopedia on my head for 20 minutes than sitting at the table playing with dusty old plates, knives, and forks with no food! I wish I could’ve walked the whole hour and a half we spent there. I watched the clock as Madame Marbury went on and on about what it means to be a "respectable young lady." I wondered why respectable meant we had to dress a certain way, walk a certain way,  and sit a certain way? Ma June told me to respect everybody no matter who they are. That make more sense to me than respecting a person by the way they look. As soon as the short hand was on 5 and the long was on 12, I hopped up and headed towards the door.

"Madame Dixon sit down! You have not been dismissed." 

One by one she called the other girls to be dismissed until I was the only girl left. 

"Adjust your behavior to match where you are Madame Dixon. This is not the swap meet. Carry yourself appropriately. And have someone do something to that hair! You are dismissed."

I got up annoyed. I wanted to ask her to take her wig off so I could see her real hair but I didn’t. That’s respectable. 

When I got outside Daddy was waiting by the car. Cassie was in the back seat. I was kind of glad we were giving her a ride. When I got in the car I told Daddy what Madame Marbury said. 

“She has some nerve when she doesn’t have any hair,” Cassie said from the back seat. 

Daddy laughed. 

"Let’s stop at the Deli to get Bomb Pops," Daddy said. "They always make you feel better."

We stopped at the light on the corner of Center and 4th and there was Jean Paul and his friends, throwing rocks at the telephone pole. Lame. I tried the slide down so he wouldn’t see me but before I could he yelled, “Mighty Mouse, you scared huh? Little girl scared to race a man!”

"A man?" Cassie yelled. "You ain’t no man. You think you a man cause you 12 years old in the 5th grade?" 

Even though Cassie didn't race and dressed like an American Girl doll, she still had heart. We had more in common than I thought. Daddy pulled over and got out. He popped the trunk, came over to the passenger’s side and opened my door. 

"Here," he handed me my sneakers. “Smoke ‘em!” 

I put on my sneakers and got out the car. 

"Show me the cash before I race you Jean Paul!" 

Jean Paul pulled out a $5.00 dollar bill. It wasn’t crispy no more but cash is cash and I don't race for free. 

"Alright. To the Deli and back." 

We lined up on the sidewalk next to the telephone pole. Cassie got out of the car and leaned on the front hood with Daddy. 

"You got this Livi!"

"On your mark, get set, go!" 

Rudy yelled go and off we went. 

I ran. Nah, I was flying. The air lifted my dress like parachute. I ran to the Deli and back and was drinking out of Daddy’s car water cup before Jean Paul even got back. His friends were laughing at him. 

“You embarrassing man!” Rudy said. 

Mad, Jean Paul threw the $5.00 bill on the ground. 

"Be respectable young man. Pick it up and hand it to the young lady," Daddy said. 

He did. 

We got back in the car and drove to Deli. 

"I can buy the Bomb Pops Daddy."

"Nope put it in your bank, I got it." 

Cassie and I sat in the car replaying the race while Daddy went in. 

He came back with 3 Bomb Pops and 3 quarter waters. The perfect victory snack. 

"Should we have these by the lake, young ladies? 

“Yes!” Me and Cassie yelled. 

Daddy pulled the car around to the lake and we watched the sunset. 

I guess 2nd Thursdees out the month ain’t too bad after all.

Excitement: "What Does That Even Mean?"

"How are you feeling?” 

“You excited?”

These are the two most common questions I get from folks when asked about my next chapter. Recently, one of my friends asked me, "are you excited," and  I took a long pause and asked, "what does that even mean?" I’m sure this is something I probably need to unpack in therapy but I don't know if I've ever been excited about next chapters. What I assume excitement feels like is how eager I am in anticipation of the new Ari Lennox album or when I see these IG chefs curate exquisite looking bowls of ramen. I equate excitement with how free I feel when I catch a flight or get a new passport stamp or how I've felt witnessing my friends get married, have children, and celebrate milestones. I haven't reached the peak of what "excitement" seemingly looks and feels like in this chapter of life yet but I am extremely proud of myself and emotionally grateful. I am also leery of the unknown. 

Recently, I went to a friend's gathering and they were talking about being excited about the fall season and how they couldn’t wait till October to go to haunted houses. Every time someone mentions a haunted house I immediately remember when I was young I went on a haunted hayride. It was dark and I rode on the hayride until it stopped in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. I got off of the hayride with the group and our guide told us that we'd have to walk through an enclosure of sorts to get back to where we came from. Of course as we were walking, there were people dressed up jumping out to scare us. It was dark and I was scared. I was unsure of where I was going and what was going to happen next and I freaked out. A person jumped out to scare me and I started screaming and swinging and ended up punching them in the face. The facility had to stop the entire haunted experience because of me. This is kind of what I am feeling today. I’m on the ride of my life and I’m ready. But I do not know where I am going and what is going to jump out at me. The unknown is scary and I am a person that finds comfort in knowing what happens next, at least in retrospect. I guess that’s why I stayed in the classroom for so long. I was safe even though I was unhappy. I knew all the players and I was an expert on how to play the game. I could navigate through being unappreciated and devalued. I had enough money to pay my bills and to create and produce artistic work. I had the summers off to rest and I'd repeat the yearly cycle of enduring a toxic work environment. Now that that’s over, I feel like I’m in physical therapy. Learning how to walk again, socialize again, lift my head up again, and trust people again. I no longer spend mornings crying in my car. I no longer feel alone and isolated. Life today feels great. I can breathe. But it also feels scary. 

That’s my truth. 

I am wholeheartedly an introvert who dreams and overthinks, who is used to doing things by herself, who has taught herself how to do much of her creative output, who struggles in silence and shares through prose, and who rarely asks for help and when I do I immediately try to figure out how to give back to the person who helped me. Today, I’m being asked what I need and people, outside of my family and friends, are rallying around me to help me. I’m not used to that. I get emotional just thinking about it. 

So there. 

That’s where I’m at with it. 

That’s how I feel. 

My inner most thoughts. 

Gratefulness takes precedence right now in my life. 

I’m working through the rest.