Ty & Cinda–A Tale of Forbidden Love

TY AND CINDA—A TALE OF FORBIDDEN LOVE

When I first wrote this story Ty and Cinda were 16 because I thought that was the minimum age here. I’ve rewritten it so although Ty and Cinda meet when they’re 17, they celebrate their 18th birthdays less than two weeks later and, thus, are 18 when they first have any kind of sexual contact. It was a lot of work making everything fit together and make sense. I couldn’t simply change “16” to “18” because there aren’t many 18 year olds in tenth grade. Now they meet after tenth grade and marry during eleventh when both 18. I also extended the story to include their days in college and two characters who had only minor roles early in the story.


INTRODUCTION

It wasn’t that Ty was shy, because he wasn’t. He was just upset about having to leave the family farm in Indiana. After listening to his parents argue and disagree almost daily for the past two years, the one thing—the only thing—they did agree on was that Ty had to leave and live with his mother and her parents, people he’d never even met.

Now he was stuck in Louisiana, a few miles south of Morgan City, with Grandpa Lew and Grandma Emma. They were nice to him, dripping with politeness, but he would have much preferred to be back home on the farm. It was hot and humid here, even at night. The local park—the only place to find a basketball game—was populated by black kids. That didn’t bother him. He’d grown to know plenty of black kids at basketball camps and AAU over the past six years.
He was content to stand by, dribbling his worn Wilson ball, and waiting for a chance to play, but he was unprepared for the racial jibes he received at the hands of the other kids—“whitey” and “paleface” being the mildest. Ty stood by and fumed. He could see the others play and knew that they were basically an undisciplined group with flashy offensive moves, but no defensive skills.

The jibes continued until he heard a voice from behind him. It was soft, but determined. “Monroe, you’d better stop that. Momma will kill you if she finds out you’re talking that kind of trash! You, too—Stephon! All that racial crap has got to stop. You leave this white boy alone.” Ty turned around, but stopped short. His savior was a light-skinned black girl with shining brown eyes, the whitest teeth he’d ever seen and a slender sexy body that just didn’t quit. Her short curly hair framed her oval face perfectly Ty thought. He was shocked by what he saw and, apparently, so was she. Ty was a slender, but strong six feet two inches. His body was what was frequently referred to as “ripped” with muscular definition from years of hard farm work and playing competitive ball.


CHAPTER 1

“Hi, I’m Lucinda…call me Cinda.”

“Uhh…I’m…I’m Ty. I’m new around here.”

She laughed and smiled. “I already figured that out. You here to play ball?”

Now Ty laughed as he twirled his ball in his hand. “I guess it’s pretty obvious. I hope I’ll get a chance.”

“Not to worry…Monroe, let Ty play. I’ll tell Momma if you don’t.”

“He can take my place,” DeJuan said. “I’m already late for work.”

Monroe came over to him and asked, “Can you actually play or are you like most of the white kids around here?”

“I guess time will tell.” Ty stripped off his t-shirt exposing his pale white skin. He recalled his father’s admonitions. “Self praise stinks,” his dad had often said, “Let your actions speak for you.” Ty could have bragged about playing on his age-group AAU team, a team that had gone to the national finals under his leadership and play or how he had been a starter for his high school varsity as a freshman and sophomore. He’d comment on it if the subject arose, but otherwise he’d not mention it at all.

Cinda came up to him with a bottle. “Ty, you’d better have some of this lotion. You’ll look like a lobster if you don’t. You wait a minute, Monroe while I save Ty from a bad burn.” She poured some lotion into her hand and wiped it over his shoulders and back. He was amazed at her touch. Ty had known some girls in Indiana, but none like Cinda, of that he was certain.

“Uh, thanks…Cinda.” He jogged onto the court, asking Monroe who he was supposed to guard. The game began anew with Ty guarding one of the lesser players on the opposing team. He more than held his own while Monroe was helpless with a guard on the other team. Marquis went around Monroe like he was standing still. After a drive and basket Ty suggested they change men. When Marquis dribbled confidently into the front court Ty had his number. He sliced left just as the ball left Marquis’ hand, knocking it away just after it bounced. Ty was on it in a flash and dribbled toward the other basket. Marquis was sure he’d block the layup, but Ty bounce-passed behind his back to the streaking Monroe for an uncontested shot. Marquis never scored another basket while Ty controlled both the offense and defense for his team. He only scored three baskets, but fed his teammates for six easy layups. They won 21-15, easily overcoming a 14-10 deficit. Ty was covered in sweat when Monroe clapped him on his shoulder.

“That was pretty good, Ty. You’ve obviously played some.”

“Yeah, it’s really big where I come from in Indiana.”

“What’re you doin’ here?”

“Living with my Mom and grandparents. My folks are getting divorced. I’ll probably never see my dad again.”

“At least you got to know him,” Cinda exclaimed. “I never even knew my daddy. He skipped on Momma before I was born.”

“That’s too bad; he missed out knowing a wonderful person. Well, I gotta go now. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll walk with you if you’re going toward the levee.” I agreed and a minute later Cinda and I left the park, me rolling my expensive racing bike alongside. It was priceless to me, probably the last gift I’d ever receive from my dad.

We walked slowly down the quiet road. “Where do you live, Ty,” Cinda asked.

“Down the road a couple of miles,” I replied, “just beyond the marina.”

“You don’t live with Capt. Lew Walker, do you?”

“Yeah, he’s my grandpa. I only met him yesterday, why?”

“I’m havin’ second thoughts about defendin’ you, Ty. He’s the biggest racist in this parish.”

“I can’t say anything about him good or bad. Like I said, I only met him yesterday and that was only because my mom decided to move here with her folks. Just because he thinks like that don’t mean that I do.”

Doesn’t…Ty, not don’t. I may be black but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to speak.”

“Sorry,” I said with a laugh. “You sound like my mother.” Now it was Cinda’s turn to laugh.

“I like you, Ty. How old are you, anyway?”

“I like you, too…Cinda. I’m seventeen, but I’ll be eighteen in another week—on July 1st.”

“You’re two days older than I am, Ty. Are you going to be a junior or a senior?”

“Yeah…I mean yes, I’m going to be a junior.” She giggled then told me she was entering her junior year, too. We walked the rest of the way in silence until Cinda turned up a dirt path toward her home. I waved her goodbye, hopping onto my bike once she was out of sight. I was back home in a couple of minutes. I had the bike up to thirty on some of the paved areas.

“How was the park, Ty? Did you get to play?”

“Yeah, Mom,” I had a great game. I met….”

“You were down at the park with those niggers?” My grandfather had interrupted rudely. I could understand Cinda’s feelings.

“I was there with a bunch of black kids, yes,” I replied. “They were okay once they got to know me.”

“You’re not to go there again. You hear me, boy? I forbid it! I absolutely forbid it.”

“How could I not hear you, Grandpa? I’m right here and you’re yelling in my ear. Frankly, I was treated better by the black kids. I’ll go back there if I feel like it. I didn’t ask to come here. I was forced, but I’ll gladly go back to Indiana if you’d prefer.” I couldn’t believe I had spoken to my grandfather that way. My mother was appalled.

“You don’t mean that, Ty.”

“You know I do, Mom. It was bad enough that I had to leave my home where I had lots of friends to come here where I have none. Now I’m told I can’t play ball just because my grandfather is a racist. Send me home…please.”

“You already know you can’t go back there. Your father has no way to take care of you. You belong here with me.”

“Mom, I’m seventeen—almost eighteen. I’m old enough to make a lot of decisions for myself. Isn’t that what you’ve told me God knows how many times? I think I’m capable of deciding who can be my friends and who can’t.” I stood there my face red from the anger I felt.

“Don’t make a bit of difference; there isn’t a single nigger kid in your school.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your grandpa has made arrangements for you to go to a prestigious private school. There won’t be any black kids there.”

“Am I going to be able to play ball?”

“They don’t have any teams there. The school’s too small. There are only sixty four students, all from affluent white families—the kind you should be seen with instead of them niggers.”

“Forget it! I won’t go! I refuse! I want to go to public school.” Of course, they refused to listen. Two weeks later, after I’d made friends with all the kids at the park I was taken into town to buy my uniform. “You don’t get it, Mom. I don’t want to go to this school. I won’t do it.”

“Don’t be juvenile, Ty. You’ll make new friends.”

“What you mean, Mom is that I’ll make new ‘white’ friends. You’re getting to be as bad as Grandpa. Did you know that people around here think he’s the biggest racist in the parish?”

“He’s not, Ty. You’ll understand that once you know him better.”

“Mom, I don’t want to know him better. You need to open your eyes and ears. He uses the N-word all the time—the same word you absolute forbade me to use…ever. I’ve never used that word and I never will.” I stopped my arguing as we entered the store, but I did tell my mother that buying these uniforms was a waste of money.

I was all dressed up in my blue blazer complete with the school emblem and tie the following Monday—the third week in August, for crying out loud–when Mom drove me to school. I kissed her good-bye and walked dutifully into the school building. I was supposed to report to the office, but I kept walking…right out the back door. I continued to the lane behind the school where I turned right and walked slowly to the park. I sat there glumly on the bench until three in the afternoon when I walked down the road toward my grandparents’ home. I stopped along the way to watch the school bus stop up ahead. Monroe and Cinda exited as I walked up. Monroe saw me and pointed to me before moving on to his home; Cinda waited. She extended her hand and I was surprised when I took it.

“Why aren’t you in school, Ty?”

“I didn’t go. I hate the idea of that private school. I hate what my grandfather is.”

“I know, Ty. You’re just about the best person I know. I doubt you have a prejudiced bone in your body. Why don’t you come up the lane with me? I’ll bet my momma has some cold milk and cookies we can share. C’mon.” She held my hand as we walked up the road. Cinda was right; I was welcomed into their house. It was nothing compared to where I was living. It was old and rundown, but it was more welcoming by far. I could tell how much Cinda’s momma loved her children. Between bites I looked at Cinda’s textbooks. They were the same I had seen some of the eleventh graders use last year in Indiana. Reluctantly, I left around five, Cinda walking me to the corner.

“Bye, Ty—I hope you don’t get into too much trouble.” She reached up and kissed my cheek. I was shocked. I looked down and my head moved forward. Our lips touched. I felt the surge of electricity between us. Cinda noticed it, too. She smiled and turned away. Her gaze returned to me a few steps later. She blew me a kiss and returned home.

Well…the shit really hit the fan when I got back to my grandparents’ home. “Where were you, Ty? The school called and told us you weren’t there.” Mom was yelling, something she had only done with my father, and grandpa was glaring at me.

“I told you that I don’t want to go to that school. Look at me; I’m dressed for church, not school. I want to go to public school.”

“No grandson of mine is going to school with those niggers.”

I shook my head. “No wonder you have a reputation as the parish’s biggest racist, Grandpa. Fine, I’ll leave and find someplace else to live. I’m eighteen now.”

“You don’t mean that, Ty.” Mom was practically in tears.

“Why, Mom don’t I have any say in this? Isn’t it bad enough that you and Dad couldn’t make a go of it? Isn’t it bad enough that I lost all my friends and my AAU and school teams? Now you want me to go to a school that doesn’t even have any. I bet all those kids are just snobs.” I’d had enough; I walked away, slamming the door to my room.

My mom knocked about five minutes later.