Free Ain't No Sunshine by Leslie Dubois Page A

allowed to do, but because of our skin color it was unacceptable.
    Around three o'clock I stumbled out of bed.  I was weak and light-headed, but I had to get out of that house.  I had to see Ruthie.  My mother made me eat something so that I wouldn't pass out while I was driving.
    "He's afraid.  He never had the life he wanted and he takes it out on us," she said. She put some food on my plate and handed it to me as I gingerly sat down at the table.
    "What is he afraid of?"  She didn't answer me.  Instead, she came up behind me and put her arms around my shoulders.  She kissed my head and just said she was sorry over and over again.
    "You really love her, don't you?" she asked moments later.
    "I do, Mother.  It's like she's the reason I wake up in the morning.  Without her, I'd die." She touched my chin and turned my face toward hers.
    "Then love her no matter what he tells you."
    I got washed up, shaved, and tried to make myself look presentable so that Ruthie wouldn't worry.  I got to the library right around 4:15.
    "Where were you today?  I was worried."  Ruthie had been standing by the door of the library, hoping I would show up.  We walked hand in hand to our favorite hidden spot between the stacks.
    "You missed my unveiling. Are you okay?" The unveiling was a big event for all the art students.  Usually in the spring there would be an exhibit featuring all their work from the year.  The art teacher really just started it as a way to showcase Ruthie, and this year she added a fall exhibit to display the work Ruthie had done in New York over the summer.
    With all of our plans to get married I had completely forgotten about it, but at least she had shown me her paintings beforehand.  The best of her work this year was a painting she called "Into the Light."  She had painted a person walking into a ray of light, using only shades of yellow.  Thirty-seven shades of yellow to be exact.  I didn't even know thirty-seven shades of yellow existed.  It was a very powerful painting. When I first looked at it, I thought it represented happiness because of all the yellow.  After staring at it for a while, I saw that it was really a dark and foreboding painting that made me think about death.
    "Yeah, I'm fine - I'm sorry I missed it.  I had to...take my mom to the hospital today, that's all." I lied.  "I'll make it up to you, I promise."  That was the truth.  I would find a way to make it up to her.
    "Don't worry about it. Is your mother okay?" 
    "Yeah, she's fine.  It was nothing."
    "What did he do to her this time?"  Ruthie grimaced as if she could feel the pain herself.  She was always so empathetic.   I loved that about her.
    "He...um."   There were a million things that I could have said he did.  All of which would have been true at some point.  I just always had a hard time lying to Ruthie.
    "I don't want to talk about it," I said, finally.  "This is our time."
    "Okay.  Has your father find out about us, yet? I'm sure someone probably told him about the hand-holding by now," she said as she came close to me and kissed me gently on the lips.  When she hugged me I must have winced in pain.
    "What?  What is it?"
    "It's nothing.  I'm fine."  She didn't believe me.  She started to unbutton my shirt.  I grabbed her hands to make her stop, but she gave me a fierce look.
    "Stephen, let me look at it."  When she got my shirt open, she gasped.  My chest was nearly completely covered with bruises.  I was black and blue all over.  She took my shirt completely off and stared at the damage to my back.
    "Oh, Stephen," she cried as she gently traced the fresh bruises with her fingertips.  "We have to get you to a doctor."
    This was the worst beating she had ever seen my father give me.  I never let her see when things got too bad.  I would always hide in my room for a few days until the wounds healed before I went to see her again.
    "I'm fine.  Nothing's broken.  I would know if something was