For the Sonorous

“James, where’re ya goin’?”

 

He looked at his mother through the darkness of the ill-lit room. The walls were adorned with white frames that held images of him and his relatives. They seemed to shake their heads at him. Twenty and unaccomplished. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. James gritted his teeth. He’d show them.

 

“A rally,” he called, adjusting his jeans. “Don’t forget to give the cat a bath while I’m gone.” At least he had his own apartment now. He was on a track to success.

 

His mother’s voice was heavy with resignation when she responded from across the house. “Okay… be safe.” James slammed the door and shoved his keys into the lock. When a distinctive click sounded, he pulled them back out only to unlock his grimy car. It beeped loudly when he pressed the button. The sound echoed in his ears, blending with the constant whispering within his head. He smiled at what he thought they told him. As usual, their voices were indiscernible, but he liked to imagine what they said.

 

Today is the day, the angry voices chanted. He would prove himself and show the world the harsh reality they could never seem to accept. All people were created equally. It was a mantra that made the United States what it was. But there were some ‘people’ that he would have to prove shouldn’t be considered people.

 

His small mouth twisted into a smile. Today was the day. He glanced into his rearview mirror and combed his stubby fingers through his floppy hair. Without checking where he was going, he swerved into the road and began to drive.

 

Building after building sped by him as the vehicle gained speed. The McDonald’s he visited on the daily, Safeway, gas stations, Kohl’s. It was exhilarating. James was an average man in an average home in an average town. He was sick of being average. But now, on a break from his job, he felt freer than he had in what seemed like forever. And it was time to make a change.

However, his shoulders began to tense as he approached his destination. With it, his back hunched, but the folds in his neck lifted his face and forced him to keep his eyes on the road. Thick eyebrows screwed together like moths drawn to light and his fingers clutched the wheel anxiously. His apprehension confused him. A peaceful rally was a useless one, and he was only going there to help. So where did his worry stem from?

 

A sudden stoplight forced him to slam the breaks and his body flew forward, the seat belt choking him. Anger surged through him. He was on a mission to better the world and not only was he getting anxious, but now this physical barrier was also stopping him. Even back in his freshman year at high school, his masterpiece of an essay on Hitler was condemned. Every time he did something great, there was someone or something that ruined his joy. His monotonous life had to amount to this point and for some reason, it felt like the whole world was against him. Before long, the light turned green and he once again flew down the road before him. The closer he came to the rally, the more cars were parked and the more crowded it became.

 

Soon enough, he reached the university. Although he couldn’t see the statue of Confederate General Robert E. Lee, he knew it still had to be up. It was one of the last symbols of white supremacy that existed in Charlottesville. That meant that his protesters were still winning. Still in his car, he slowly merged with the crowd. Even through the metal of the vehicle, the sound of yelling and words in slogans were clear. He nodded along to many of them - his favorite being “blood and soil” - all the while, slowly progressing through the crowd. The opportunity hadn’t yet appeared, but his heart was racing and his legs were shaking. He glanced around at the community that surrounded him, the people who donned the colors of the American flag and understood the importance of the distinction between races.

 

He was with his people and he knew that nothing could be better. None of his relatives had understood and neither had his friends. These people, although he had never met them, were the closest thing he had to family. With this, the smile from before crept back onto his pale face. It was his duty as an American to erase the non-white imposters who claimed to be human off the face of this Earth. Or at least send them a message.

 

Thinking about blacks and asians and muslims infuriated him. The fact that so many of them were here that day made his anger grow. It was time to make a change and today was the day. He continued to creep along the road and thought about blasting the radio. No, not yet. He’d do it when he made his escape. He knew the “anti-fascists” and “anti-racists” would throw a fit. Not yet. He couldn’t attract attention.

 

James’s ears perked up when he heard chants of “black lives matter”. He wanted to spit. Throw something. But he restrained himself. Almost, he told himself. The chants in his head intensified along with the sound of the ignorant folk’s yelling. The sound was unbearable. The heat was amplifying his thoughts and they banged against the walls of his head. People were sidling up to his car and swarming the area. The sensory overload was enough to make him faint. A woman in bright pink strolling across the street was the last straw. His spiraling mindset suddenly disappeared. Today was the day.

 

Without warning, he slammed the gas pedal and the car flew forward. It was a moment of pure silence. A perfect moment where he served his country in the best way he possibly could. And then there was a crash and his head banged against the wheel as airbags exploded from the dashboard. All he could see was white, though he was sure his face was bleeding. He put the car in reverse and stepped on the pedal. Screams echoed around him, cursing, crying. Dying. People threw their posters on the floor as some fled while others stayed and desperately called the police. Over the body of the bloated airbags, he saw bodies on the ground. Even from his distance, he could see the blood that soaked the pink shirt. Today is the day, he thought once again. Charlottesville would never be the same. And as he attempted his grand escape, James Alex Fields smiled to himself.