WE HAVE YOUR CARD ON PROFILE

Ball State University

Slender, rounded lines ensnared it. My signature on its back side, transcribed in dull, black ink. The emerald tree of the Forest Park Public Library— born of powerful pine —is embellished across the front. Everything else...was nothing but white.

It was simple really: a library card renewal. I watched in anticipation. The bony, brittle fingers of the lady behind the desk slowly scooped it up. Sunken eyes embedded in an ivory face scanned it as if overseeing a grim transaction.

My granddaddy, a strong and stable soul, stands next to me in silent waiting. His glasses are dazzling halos against his dark complexion.

Is this card yours? My hairs on the back of my neck shoot up! The lady’s eyes bore into mine as if she were some vehement vulture circling over her prey. I slowly inch away from the desk.

My granddaddy and the lady now have their faces at point-blank range Opposing opposites. Black and white. And me, smack dab in the center of it with my light brown skin.

What did you say?

An astounding arsenal of words, phrases, and expressions spill out of my granddaddy’s mouth. The lady, already a deathly pale becomes practically drained of all color.

It’s just standard procedure— It’s his card. I get that, sir, but it’s— It’s his card! Why would he steal his own card?

The lady grows squeamish in the face, loses her place. My granddaddy sighs, closes his irritated eyes.

Come on, kiddo With the flip of a page, he disappears. The automatic doors slam behind him. My perplexed eyes peer at the lady, whose skin is white as fresh snow. She simply stares at me

but in my confusion, I turn away. I decide to glance down at my skin. Not a single speck...not a single drop of whiteness. My eyes look up and suddenly— I understood.