Extreme

Realization is important to see it all the way through.

                                       

There are those of us who want to stand out, for whatever reason, and then there are those of us, like me, who must find some contentment in just existing. I don't know why that is so difficult for people to understand. I don't know why in the walk of life, someone as I must always be wrong, but that seems to be the case, until finally, I just decide I have had enough. Maybe that was what happened that day. Nothing else special going on. Nothing at all. 

I reached the bus stop and calmly sat on the far end. There was only one other person present, an elderly white woman. Well, she was older than me. As soon as I sat, I pulled out my phone and began scrolling, just seeing what was going on. Maybe I could find somebody to text something. I was determined I was going to have something to say. I don't know why; just a need to be heard. I thought for a moment and wondered if maybe I did want to stand out, or maybe just be listened to every once in a while. Was that too much to expect?  

Perhaps I felt like no one listened to me. Perhaps I felt like no one was conditioned to care about me, or even care at all. In any capacity? Or maybe in the most minimal capacity. 

No one to talk to. I decided I'd call my sister in a bit or try to before the bus showed up. I looked upward to see the clear blue sky over all the hustle and bustle of this rather disappointing excuse for a hometown, and this was mine. I turned in the direction of the old woman, but not directly at her. I was watching traffic in the distance. I wanted a car, but if I got one, I'd just want to get away. Maybe that was what I was wanting. Isn't that what everyone always seems to be wanting? Why couldn't I be different? 

My head held up, I looked across the street and took a deep breath, allowing myself a slight hum as I exhaled. I looked at the phone to see the time. Bus should be along any minute now. 

I looked down the other side of the street, but didn't focus on anything. I had heard it. I knew I did. I just didn't make a connection to anything. Were the thoughts trying to make their way to the front of my mind? I had heard it, but did it mean anything? Should it mean anything? I could always test it, see if it was true. What if it wasn't? I decided I'd test it. Do it again. 

Slowly I turned to observe down the street once more, same direction as the old woman, to look into the intersection of moving cars and I allowed myself to perpetrate the deed a second time. 

I exhaled, emitting sound with my voice once more. I kept my mouth closed and sent the air out of my nostrils. 

And the sound manifested yet again. 

The old woman coughed. I thought at first she had just cleared her throat, but hadn't been sure, so I decided to do it a third time. This occasion, she had indeed coughed. Out of the corner of my eye, I observed her. She held her phone with one hand, continued to gaze down upon it, but then brought her other hand to her mouth to cover it. She had done this three times now, after I exhaled. 

I looked back across the street, but for some reason, it seemed I was seeing more than just the city. Now I could see the cyclone fence surrounding the parking area, empty of cars, yet nearby was the gate, visibly locked with a chain. Slowly my vision dropped down the road before me, the faded stripes. 

A car crossed in front of us, seeming to startle my focus. I looked up once more to the blue sky, but really saw none of it this time. 

We sat on very opposite ends of that bench. She was all the way to the side wall. I didn't pay attention to if she was sitting closer and when I sat down, she slowly, or quickly, moved away. 

I was now against the wall on my left and very stealthfully, I brought my phone up, switched to camera to about level with my face. 

I held my chin up and started sending live feed. There was tranquility in seeing the bright clear skies, so gathering evidence would be easy. My face turned to the sky, I inhaled, then exhaled once more, this time with my mouth open, this time allowing the voice to declare my actions, ever so slightly, but quite naturally, with such an utterance being heard. And I waited. 

I strived desperately to listen, to hear the anticipated response; to make certain I didn't imagine her behavior, and sure enough, there it emerged. Not only did I distinctly hear it, but I had it recorded; my exhale followed by her cough. I gave a slight smile as I gathered my thoughts together before I spoke, then I proceeded, rather quietly, but just enough to enable the phone to hear me in the way I was turned. A car rumbled by. 

"Every time," I began, then paused, "every time I exhale, this woman sitting here has to cough." 

I let the moment crystallize in anyone's thoughts who may be watching, then I continued, "wait a moment," I instructed, then followed through, quietly, but naturally, with a deep sigh, followed by the emission. I held my attention focused on the sky above, then she coughed once more. I had my evidence, and viewers were seeing. I followed with my narration. 

"Everytime I exhale, she has to cough," I began explaining, "as tho she is making certain not to inhale what I have exhaled," I said with self-assurance. 

"She wants to make sure she doesn't inhale any germs that have been in my mouth, in my body." 

"Girl, you crazy," a response said. Don't even know who that was. I had amassed quite a few followers, not all that I necessarily knew. They would all see this peroxide blonde woman's actions and how she regarded me in this manner and she didn't even know me. Only one distinction she was making about me. I sniffed. 

She coughed again. I turned to look at her for a moment, just staring at her, then I turned back to the phone. 

"You see," I said. "Everytime I exhale or breath, she has to cough. She's doing it on purpose, too. I know she is."

I could make out the count increasing, holding the phone still beside me. I curled in my lower lip. 

"That's not what she's doing," a post read. 

"Do it again, Votrella. Let everyone see," said another comment. 

I followed suit, this time actually doing it louder than any of the others. My cheeks puffed out as I exhaled air between my lips. We all waited with anticipation at what would happen next, and sure enough, she didn't disappoint. 

"I'd go over there and breathe on her if I was you," a friend commented. 

"How dare she?" came another. I sat perfectly still with a slightly tranquil expression for all to see. 

"She must think she breathes nothing but good air," was another post. Viewership steadily increased, massively increased. I awaited to go viral. Keen observers would find out who she was and she would get her comeuppance. It was the only way to send a message, I thought to myself. Everyone would see the indignity and humiliation perpetrated on us. I'd give outraged interviews, angered at this behavior. 

There was another request. 

"Watch the white woman sitting back there cough when Votrella exhales, because she doesn't want any of Votrella's germs and she's sitting all the way down there." 

"Do it again, Votrella. See if she does it again." 

I waited a moment, then proceeded to take a deep breath, then everyone watching on their phones or computers could see me exhale from my mouth once more, slightly giving a normal, regular sound when doing so.  Everyone waited with baited breath. I honestly thought there were people who could be taking bets on this, about how long it would take her. Shares were amassing left and right. A slight glance I made enabled me to see the count just growing to massive numbers. 

And there was the cough. 

Posts filled the screen as comments flooded in, the majority of them instructing me to move closer and breathe on her or just go up to her and blow right in her face. I seriously contemplated such an action. No one would blame me. I would fight her and all those who condoned the display she was putting on here. I'd show her who was better than who. And to think when I sat here earlier, I wondered what my reasons and purpose must be. Now I knew. I actually prepared myself to challenge her, to strike back for this humiliation she was perpetrating on me and my people. She would learn not to cross us, and so would others. I waited for the right time to strike. I could tell comments were demanding I lash out at her, with a simple gust of breath in her face. That would show her. I was prepared. I was ready. It was my moment. It was my destiny. 

Quietly, I said so the viewers could hear me, "I'm going to exhale one more time, then she's going to decide what I do next." 

Responses posted like mad. Absolute wildfire. I looked forward, eyes open, mouth shut and slowly breathed in through my nose. Nothing significant, just something we all must do. Still facing forward, I was in the process of blowing out through my lips, just letting the air gently depart from my lungs in a steady motion. Once I was done, I waited for the cough. 

"Wait for it," I said to the phone still held at my side. I waited. We all waited. I saw LOL comments coming up. I looked to the messages to see what was being said. I saw my name appearing. 

"Votrella, look," a post said. It was my sister. I turned toward the white woman to observe what she was doing now. I expected to see her in an oxygen mask or something, maybe wearing a regular face mask. But she wasn't. I slightly turned so I wouldn't be obviously staring, but I wanted to keep the situation within my vision. 

There was a man with her. He wore a suit, tie, overcoat. Very well dressed. He spoke with her and she in turn spoke back. He stood looking at her and more than once, she turned her attention back to the phone. He stood motionless, looking at her. Like a statue, he didn't move. Finally, she looked up again and spoke to him. He in turn responded. For a split-second there, things definitely became heated. Finally, she must have clearly had enough. 

"Dooohhhh," she said with an unbelievably deep groan. And as he had done since I began noticing, he responded. 

They were both signing.

He stood, looking straight at her with his spectacles, his hands gesticulating like mad. She then would do the same. After a bit, he likewise made a quiet "oooww" sound, barely audible, but I detected it. She stopped again and looked at her phone once more. Once again, he stood completely still. She continued staring down at her phone. Finally, he reached toward her and placed his hand under her chin and gently turned her facing up at him. He proceeded to make more gestures, paused, then made some more. At this moment, she looked at the phone again, then slid it into her purse and stood up. He articulated some more with his hands, then she did the same as they walked away. 

Now I watched them. I looked at the two figures growing smaller and smaller from my vantage point until they vanished in the crowd. I had no idea who they were to each other or what had just happened. I was completely out of the entire loop. I knew nothing about what had just transpired. What was I thinking? What had I been thinking? It was at that moment I remembered who I was and what I had been doing. Slowly I turned back to the phone. Whatever I had thought about the white woman obviously was not true, but I said nothing to the camera. I could make out questions about what all happened. 

"How did she know when to cough then if she couldn't hear Votrella, how come she kept coughing?" one person asked. The response was something about her being able to sense my exhales and she just coughed then, for whatever reason. 

I turned the camera off and set the phone down in my lap. Suddenly I should have been back where I was before, but I couldn't help but think I understood myself a little bit more, not just about me, but what I contend with on a daily basis because of skin color. Perhaps the same thing these two strangers endure with their inability to hear, however minimal it may be, but also for her to be with him, and he as well, whether they were romantically involved or just relying on each other's presence, because she was white and he was black.