My name is Clara Bedford and I'm as white bread as they come. My parents were born into money - old money - and lots of it. I grew up in a big white house in Westchester County. When I was a little girl I played with my little white friends. When I got older I went to private schools where almost everyone was white. Then I went to college and it was more of the same.
I have blond hair, blue eyes and fine features. I guess back then I was what you would call a WASP thoroughbred because I was very very thin. Girls from old money were supposed to be thin and I dieted and exercised to stay that way. I went to all the debutante balls in slim expensive white gowns. Eventually one of the boys at one of the balls started taking me out and soon he proposed to me. His family's money was even older than mine. We were married in a big white church in front of our beaming white families and then moved into a big white house of our own.
We never had much of a sex life and I never had any children. My husband stopped making love to me after a few years and I didn't mind a bit. I had heard about orgasms, but never had one and didn't miss it. I just spent year after year going to meetings of all the best white clubs and doing work for all the best white charities. And I stayed very very thin. My parents passed away and left me with more money than God, but that didn't affect my white life even a bit. My twentieth wedding anniversary came and went and my life never changed.
Then one day I came home from one of my clubs and found a letter from my husband on the table in the foyer. It said that he had moved out and wanted a divorce. There was this other woman. I cried a little, but not a lot, and went to see a lawyer.
I asked my lawyer to find out who the other women was. Her name, it seems, was Debbie and she was twenty years younger than me. I saw her picture and she had curves and big breasts. I was a little angry, but not a lot, and told my lawyer I wanted to take my husband for every penny I could. I didn't get much satisfaction from that, however, because my husband wrote me a gigantic check and that still left him with more money than God.
My life then went on pretty much as before. The clubs. The charities. The big white house. Then one day I needed to go into New York City. I had been given the task of researching some local history and found out that the book I needed was located in the New York Public Library. I felt adventurous and told the chauffeur to drop me off at the railroad station and I took the train to Grand Central Station.
I walked west on 42nd street in my white summer dress, crossed 5th avenue and walked between the famous lions and up the many steps. I went to the cavernous main reading room, requested my book, and then sat at one of the heavy wooden tables and started to read it.
In a few minutes I sensed that someone was sitting across from me. I looked up and saw it was a woman who was very very black. She was wearing African clothing and her skin was the deep deep chocolate color which told the world that there were no Caucasians in her family tree. Her hair was short and fuzzy and her face was magnificent. She had thick lips and a broad nose and piercing brown eyes that were staring right back into mine. And then she smiled at me and her smile was sunshine.
I was disturbed and embarrassed and self-conscious. I lowered my eyes back to my book and read the same page about fifteen times. I didn't want to look up, but I finally did and she looked right into my heart with her beautiful eyes. And then again she gave me her beautiful smile. I felt something new and scary stirring in me. I lowered my eyes again and read the same page a few more times.
When I looked up again she reached into her briefcase and pulled out a piece of white paper. She took out a large black fountain pen and wrote something in black ink She folded the paper and slid it across the table. I unfolded it and it said "please come home with me."
I can't even imagine the look on my face because it made her laugh so hard that she had to put her hands over her mouth to keep from disturbing the other readers. I looked at her again and surprised myself by nodding yes. We stood up and walked out of the reading room and down the steps past the lions.