The Walls We Build

The Walls

by J. Y. Calcano

It is another day in Orlando. At the risk of sounding boring: the sun peeks above the neutral brown tiles of the neighbor’s roof. A couple of squirrels munch on nuts and berries and squeak indignation at my own peeking. If the sun can do it, so can I. A blue jay (which surprises me cause I think blue jays are only seen up around Toronto and wear jerseys) perches on a bush and cocks a wide inquisitive eye my way. Azure feathers glimmer incandescently under the morning’s rays. It is a morning of welcomes and hellos.

Caramel, my landlord’s caramel colored dog (I suspect a poetic naming scheme), trots around the yard and poses like a model: white tipped tail high, light brown ears squared and wrinkled by intriguing scents, one paw frozen mid stride as his doggie brain decodes the cryptography of canine thoughts.

The neighbor’s dog, a shadow twice Caramel’s size, hurls back and forth behind the old picket fence. The unpainted wood, stained black with moss and rain, shakes under the impact of a probing paw. The entire section of the fence creaks like maracas. The two squirrels high-tail it up bark and branch. The blue jay defecates, with proper decorum mind you, and flies behind the shed.

Caramel investigates the creaking fence and is rewarded by another heavy impact. The snowy tipped tail whiplashes back and forth with excitement. He paws at the fence and turns wide, imploring eyes at me. A needy whine reaches my ears, not from Caramel but from the large shadow beyond. There is no doubt in my mind that Caramel wants to meet the neighbor’s dog as much as it wants to meet him. I can tell there is no hostility between them. Two dogs of different races pull toward each other. The dissimilar coloring of their fur matters little. Their size and differences are equally unimportant. They’re excited to share, to stick noses into butts and really get to know each other like only dogs can. A fence divides them, a wall. A human wall.

A bitter taste fleets over my taste buds as thoughts turn to the day before. I see a tall pale man behind a counter at Winn-Dixie. The pale man strains to keep a steady, even tone as he says, “I am refusing you service, sir.” A chromed balloon hovers in the air with the words “WELCOME” and a stylized pink curved line below them.

A darker skinned client stands across the counter, “Why you doing that man? I—”

“You called my co-worker an ignorant jackass, sir. There was no call for that, sir.”

“No, I didn’t.” The client adjusts a black baseball cap. “I said he was acting like an ignorant jackass. I don’t see why I have to wait so damn long. And you take care of a bunch of other people. I just trying to send money to my family. My family, man.”

“They had already asked a question and came back for an answer, that’s it. Either way, sir, I am refusing you service at this time.”

“Why you gottah be like that, man?”

“I am concerned with the well being of my coworker.”

The darker man gesticulates with both hands. “You’re concerned with me? Is that it?”

The pale man leans back, eyes as flat as his tone and repeats, “I am concerned with the well being of my coworker.”
           “This is some racist bullshit!”

The pale man scoffs. The "protected" fair skinned coworker in question shakes his head. I hear true disbelief in his tone when he says, “Oh, my God.” A blond woman passing by mutters, loud enough for me to hear all the way down the aisle, “You just keep shooting off your mouth.”

“Nah. You’all racist. That’s what this is!” The darker skinned man retrieves a smartphone from his blue denims. He begins recording a message about Winn-Dixie’s racism and lack of service. The argument escalates with terms involving “illegal” and “refuse.”

A woman calls from the neighbor’s house and wretches me from the memory, "T.K. Come on boy!" The dark furred shadow whines louder and delivers a tremendous pawing to the fence. Caramel does the same from this side. The woman’s tone becomes insistent. T.K. departs. Caramel lowers his head and tail, bereft. The fence remains in place. Its high tips remind me of upturned teeth and castle ramparts.
I call Caramel. He slinks over and sits down next to me, eyes on the fence. I scratch behind his ears. A cloud passes over the sun..