'68 - A Novel...

CHAPTER 22: THURSDAY, JULY 4


John made his way across the lawn, weaving his way through the crowd gathered at Waterfront Park. He carried a blanket, two folding beach chairs, and a small cooler containing a variety of soft drinks. He was looking for the perfect spot to spread the blanket, park the chairs and wait for the fireworks to begin. Bobbie would be meeting him near the bandstand; she was working that evening, but had a two-hour break between clients, enough time to enjoy the finale to the 4th of July celebration.

There was a good crowd gathering, anticipating the fireworks show. The celebration had gone on most of the day, beginning with a parade through town that included bands, a mounted posse, floats with lots of pretty girls, and the usual cadre of politicians and dignitaries. A parade of boats, red white and blue lights strung from the rigging, was making its way up the Mare Island Strait, heading for the Vallejo Yacht Club. On a barge anchored out in the strait, the fireworks technicians were making their final preparations. The clock was ticking down to 9:30 pm, the time promised for the start of the show, and parents all through the crowd were pleading with their children to be patient for just a few more minutes.

John found an open patch of grass, dropped the chairs and the cooler and spread the blanket neatly. He began to scan the crowd, looking for Bobbie. He didn’t want her to miss the start of the show. Then he saw her through the crowd, making her way toward him. She was wearing her work clothes, the dark gray pants and lighter gray shirt with the patch on the left breast that read “Aaron’s Janitorial.” John smiled at her, amazed at the way she made ordinary work clothes look regal. He took her hand as she approached.

“Hi, babe. Come on over here. I’ve got a good spot.” He was happy to see her, as always, and didn’t notice that she did not return his smile. He didn’t see the concern etched in her face. John opened the beach chairs and they sat down. “Want a Coke?” he asked, indicating the little cooler. She accepted and took a sip of the ice cold drink just as the first volley of fireworks went off.

Suddenly the sky above them was exploding with successive bursts of white light. The crowd let out a collective gasp, followed by a rousing cheer. This pattern continued with each round launched from the barge, the brilliant display in reds and blues and whites blending in the night sky.

Bobbie was looking at John, watching his smiling face, seeing the colors reflected in his eyes.

“Johnny,” she said, leaning close to his ear, “I’m late.”

“What? No, you weren’t late. I was only here a few minutes…”

“No, Johnny, I mean I’m late…”

“What? I don’t know…”

A great splash of color filled the sky and the crowd erupted again.

“I mean I’m late.” She said it louder this time. “I missed my period.”

Another starburst exploded, followed by another cheer, but they were no longer watching. Realization was dawning across John’s face, and Bobbie watched closely for his reaction. He smiled and then looked away, back toward the canvas being painted above them, and as he did this, he took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. And Bobbie felt the tears welling in her eyes.

They watched in silence until, nearly an hour later, the grand finale lit the sky, bringing the loudest response yet from the crowd. Then they gathered their things and headed out of the park. As throngs of people hurried by, they stood together next to Bobbie’s car, talking quietly, trying to sort out their situation.

“Geez, I wonder how this happened? I mean, we tried to be so careful, using rubbers all the time…”

She corrected him. “Most of the time.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“Nothing’s certain yet. I mean, I haven’t been to a doctor or anything…”

“Maybe you should go… maybe we should go…”

“Yeah… I’ll make an appointment… soon. But I’ve got to go to work now. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

She kissed him quickly on the lips and started to pull away, but John held her hands and pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms, her head against his chest. They stood that way for a minute, people streaming past on the sidewalk, shooting disapproving glances in their direction.

“I love you,” he said. “We’ll get through this. We’ll be okay…”

Bobbie pulled away and fumbled with her keys, trying to unlock the car door, her eyes clouded with tears. “I love you too, Johnny.” She started to add but it’s not enough, then bit her tongue.

She got in and he closed the door behind her. When she looked up at him, his fingers touching the window, for the very first time she saw fear in his eyes.
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CHAPTER 23: TUESDAY, JULY 16


Isaac drove across town, a little smile dancing across his face. He was listening to the boys jabbering away brightly about anything and everything – baseball, someone’s birthday, a party that’s coming up – just normal stuff that teenagers could talk about in front of a parent. Isaac’s son Lucas rode in the front seat, his friends John Harris and Eric Hashimoto in the back, heading home from baseball practice at Wilson Park. The boys were teammates, first in high school and now on the American Legion team. But more than that, they were friends. Isaac marveled at how easy they made it look. It was way beyond his experience: growing up in the segregated South, serving in a segregated army unit during the war, living now in a de facto segregated neighborhood. Times were changing and these kids were going to lead the way, making their own decisions, choosing their friends, their associates – even their neighbors – for reasons that didn’t involve color. He wondered if he could ever catch up. He turned left onto Cedar Street, then a quick left again into the Hashimotos’ driveway.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Washington.” Eric said a quick goodbye to his buddies and headed for the front door.

Isaac backed out of the driveway onto Cedar, made a right at the corner and pulled up in front of the Harris’s home. There was another “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Washington,” and John Harris was waving goodbye.

Mr. Washington… Mr. Isaac Washington, R.N. He was having a hard time getting used to it. He had aced the exam, and even found a job at Vallejo General Hospital. Things were definitely looking up. He pulled away from the curb and started down the street, wondering what Millie had on the stove for dinner. Then he looked up at the rearview mirror and saw the flashing lights of the police cruiser behind him. He pulled over to the curb and stopped.

“Dad? Did you do something wrong?” Lucas looked back at the police car, then at his father.

“No… I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll handle it.” Isaac tried to sound confident. In his rearview mirror, he could see the officers sitting in the patrol car, one of them talking into a radio handset. After several minutes, the driver opened the door and Isaac saw him walking toward his vehicle, his image growing larger in the mirror. He rolled down the window and waited.

“License and registration, please.” The officer stooped slightly, his eyes scanning the inside of the car.

Isaac reached for his wallet in his back pocket. As he did this he saw the officer place his right hand on the gun in its holster. He took the license out of his wallet, removed the registration holder clipped to the sun visor, and handed them to the officer.

“Mr. Washington?”

“Yes.”

“Is this your vehicle?”

“Yes.”

“Remain in the vehicle. And keep your hands on the wheel where we can see them.” The officer turned and walked back toward the cruiser.

“Dad, what’s going on? Why are they doing this?”

“Just be cool, son. Be cool.” He said it, but with very little conviction. Isaac Washington could feel his blood beginning to boil.
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John Harris stepped off the bus, turned and stood at the curb until it pulled away, then started across the street toward his house, the second from the corner. He looked up to see the police cruiser, lights flashing, one officer standing a few feet away from the vehicle, covering the second officer who was in the process of patting down a tall, slender black man. The suspect’s legs were spread apart, pulled back, hands out against the vehicle. A second black man, younger, possibly late teens, also stood with his hands on the vehicle, waiting his turn to be frisked. John recognized the young man: it was Lucas Washington. And the older man was his father, Isaac. John also recognized the police officer covering his partner: it was Tom Wolf, the son of a man John worked with on the shipyard. All of this was happening a few yards down the block from the Harris’ home. John reached the walk leading to his front door and called to the young officer.

“Tommy… hey, Tommy.” The officer looked around and nodded in recognition. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Hey, Mr. Harris. Not much. Just a routine stop.”

“A routine stop for what?”

“Well, we’ve had some break-ins in the neighborhood and this guy fits the description.”

“Break-ins? I haven’t heard of any break-ins.”

“Well, let’s just say they’re a little out of place here.” He turned and winked at John.

“Goddamn, Tommy, I know this man. That’s Ike Washington. Our kids play ball together.”

John Jr. came out of the house and stood next to his father. “Dad, why are they stopping Mr. Washington? He just dropped me off from practice.”

“Hear that, Tommy? Ike just gave my kid a ride home from ball practice.”

The officer named Tom looked annoyed, but called out to his partner who was finished patting down Isaac Washington. The second officer approached his partner and they had a quick, animated conversation.

“Okay, Mr. Harris, we’re going to let ‘em go, based on you vouched for ‘em.” Tom addressed Big John while his partner returned Isaac’s license and registration. “You know, we would’ve turned ‘em loose earlier, but he copped an attitude with us.”

A few seconds later, the police cruiser swung around Isaac’s car and hurried away, as if another urgent call had come in. John walked toward Isaac who was leaning back against his car, fighting to control his rage.

“Geez, Ike, sorry about that. You’d think they’d have something better to do.”

“Oh… not a fucking problem, Big John. Matter of fact, I’m getting used to it, starting to enjoy the damn pat-downs. Know what I mean? What the hell did you say to ‘em?”

“Just that I know you, that you were dropping off my kid, that I could vouch for you.”

“Vouch for me? Vouch for me, so that I can drive down the goddamn street? I did not know that I needed to be vouched for to drive in this neighborhood. Well… thank you Mr. John Harris.” Isaac could feel the blood pulsing at his temples, feel his fists clenched tightly against the side of the car.

John felt awful. He knew there was nothing he could do to salvage the situation. Still, he had to try. “Ike, why don’t you come on in and have a cold beer with me, let yourself calm down a little?”

Isaac looked at John Harris for a moment, and then burst into laughter. It was just too damn funny. A beer? Come on in and have a beer? I’ll bet that would be a first: the first nigger to set foot in that household – except for a maid. And then he saw that John was dead serious. He stifled a new burst of laughter, and he felt his anger begin to subside.

“Well, I’ll be… Thanks, John… But Millie’s got dinner on the stove. I think Lucas and I better head for home.”

He called to his son who had wandered off to talk to John Jr. A minute later, they were on their way home, back to their neighborhood, safe among their own kind.
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Next week: The Democrats meet in Chicago, John and Kenji go to the barber shop, and Bobbie has news for John Jr.
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