Into White

by David W. Landrum

I am an albino girl. I have no pigment in my skin. My hair and flesh are white—and I don’t mean white in the sense we usually use the word, as in “Caucasian.” I mean white like a piece of paper or a marshmallow. I have Type 1 Oculocutaneous Albinism. I do not have a drop of pigment in my body. I am completely white.

I met Sossity Chandler when she opened for us once. This was before her superstar days, when she played the bars and coffee houses around Grand Rapids . It amuses me now to realize that in those days we were better known than she was and she only came out as a local preliminary performer to our band, Mudlucious. I could tell she would go places, however, when she upstaged us that night.

The guy I was dating at the time, Drew Mason, introduced us.

“Sossity, this is Sarah. You’ll have to excuse her, she’s a little nervous about playing tonight. She always looks pale under those circumstances.”

“Drew, knock it off, will you?” I said, the annoyance sounding in my voice a little more than I had intended. “Sossity, I’m happy to meet you. I heard you play at Rocky’s a couple of weeks ago.”

“Do you play with the band for a living or do you have a day job?” she asked.

“I’m only local with the band. I don’t tour with the guys. I work at Saint Mary’s as a lab tech in the Heart Center . I like my work and I like the people I work with, so I’m not ready to take the plunge and go full-time with the band.”

“We trying to talk her into it every day,” Drew put in.

“It’s a big decision,” Sossity said. “I’m glad you like your job, Sarah. Not a lot of people can say that.”

“If she played music full time for us,” Drew interjected, “she’d like her job a whole lot better.”

As I said, Sossity upstaged us. She was supposed to do fifteen minutes of music—about four songs. She ended up, at the audience’s request, playing for half an hour. And when the second act began, the audience demanded she open for that as well (a thing opening acts never do), so the owner of the place told us to at least let her do two or three numbers. She only did two, but Drew was thoroughly pissed off. He said she was a grandstanding little bitch and he would never let her open for us again.

I saw her two days later. I had popped into a bar where I was supposed to meet my friend Cynthia for a drink. I sat down and she called and said she would be a little late. I hate drinking alone. There’s nothing worse than you and your drink and no one to talk with. Someone called my name. I turned around and saw Sossity Chandler.

She sat at a table with two guys. One was Asian, quite good looking—chiseled face, strong body, almond-shaped eyes and dark skin. Beside him sat a guy with sandy brown hair and brown eyes, tall—very tall—I would guess his height at six-six or taller. His long arms and powerful hands caught my attention. Sossity waved.

“Sarah!” I went over to her table. She leaned forward and hugged me. “Let me introduce you to my friends.”

The Asian guy was Jerry Watanabe, her date, and the other was Tommy Sendek.

“He’s a basketball player,” Jerry put in.

“Who do you play for?”

He gave me the name of a local university.

“They have a big game in couple of days, don’t they?” I asked.

I’m not a sports fan but for the first time in years one of the local colleges had won our district and might go on to the championship. Everyone was talking about it. You heard the talk whether you wanted to hear it or not. Drew’s brother played on the team.

“We have a chance to go to the national tournament,” Tommy said. “And I’m getting close to breaking the Michigan college scoring record.”

Obviously Tommy had taken my appearance in but he did not stare or make any remark about my being white.

I sat down and ordered a peach daiquiri.

“I’m playing tonight,” Sossity told me. “I’ve got a bass and a drummer. We’re doing blues.”

“I like the way you play blues.”

“Tonight I’m plugged in. I’ve brought my Strat.”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Standard thirty-six bar. Robert Johnson, some Leadbelly. We’re doing a couple of old Animals songs. You know ‘For Miss Caulker’?”

I laughed. “My mom and dad had that song on an old 45. It was the flip side of ‘Bring it on Home to Me. ’ When I learned to play piano I learned both those songs. I played them over and over.”

“We’re doing ‘Bring it on Home to Me’ too. You want to sit in on our session?” I stirred from surprise and unease. “I mean,” she continued, “it will all be straight progression. If you know blues you’ll be able to improv. The bar keeps a piano on stage. What do you say?”

I thought playing the blues with Sossity would be very cool, but I hesitated. I glanced at her. She had on a short purple dress and patterned hose. I wore a sweater and a denim mini.

“I don’t know. I’m not dressed up.”

“You look great. Besides, who gives a damn? This is a jam, not a fashion show.”

I hesitated.

“Afraid of what Drew might say?”

I blushed. And, believe me, when I blush it is highly visible. She had gone right to the heart of my reticence.

“Well . . . I guess I do hesitate. He would be mad about it. He wasn’t very happy that you stole the show the other night.”

“I didn’t plan that or try to do it. It just happened.”

“I know. He was ticked off because he’s such a twit. I’d love to stand in with your band, Sossity. Let’s go for it.”

We finished our drinks. A rock band played first. Since Sossity's boyfriend was with her, I naturally fell in with Tommy. We had to sit close and lean in to hear over the band. We talked about our backgrounds.

“I work at the heart center,” I told him, “as a research assistant. I tried college for a while but dropped out. My parents said they’d pay my way to Aquinas, but I didn’t want to go.”

“Are you Catholic?”

“Lutheran, but I’m not into religion much.”

Jerry had overheard the last part of our conversation. He leaned over, “He’s Jewish,” he said, “and the top scorer on their team. But he won’t play on Jewish holidays, though, and that pisses his coach off.”

Tommy seemed embarrassed at the mention of his religion. The band started up again. He asked if I wanted to dance. We went out on the floor and danced for three numbers. He was good and I had fun with him. Only when we were both on our feet did I get an idea of how tall he was and how strong. He moved with a grace I have seen only in guys who study ballet or are top athletes. The band finished their show. As we walked toward our table he smiled at me. He seemed shy. I smiled back at him.

“You’re a good dancer,” I said, and I stood on my tip-toes gave him a quick kiss. We settled into our table. Sossity told me we would play in twenty minutes.

Sossity and I went to the Ladies Room. I asked her if Tommy was dating anyone.

“Not now. A lot of girls are chasing him, though.”

“He’s Jewish?”

“Right.”

“He seems pretty devout.”

“He’s very devout. He takes his religion seriously. I admire people like that.”

“Then he probably only dates Jewish girls.”

“No. He’s dated two of my friends. One was Protestant, one Orthodox.” She looked at me, eyes amused. “Why? Interested?”

I felt defensive.

“Maybe,” I said.

“Well he’s definitely interested in you. He told me that when you went outside to call your friend. He said he thought you were awesome.” She held up one hand. “Please don’t tell him I told you that. He’s shy and he’ll run away if he knows you know he likes you.”

I promised her I would not say a word. The news that he found me attractive was heartening because I thought he was pretty cool. We went back out, finished out drinks and went up on stage to play.

Our jam session went off fabulously. I did five songs with the band—the two Animals hits we had talked about but then three standard numbers where we did alternating solos. Sossity knew how to sing the blues and she belted out a gusty vocal that reminded me of Janis Joplin or Bonnie Tyler and did great riffs on her Fender Stratocaster. I even took a vocal on one of the numbers. When we finished and I stepped down I was elated. The crowd cheered for me so much I came back up and took a bow. Finally, they quieted down for the next number and I sat down by Tommy.

He congratulated me in his shy way, saying I was a great player and singer and had done a good job. I smiled at him, glowing with the excitement of the performance. I liked him. Sossity played for another forty minutes or so then ended the show.

She came back to the table. We sat there—six of us, Sossity, Jerry, Tommy, the drummer and bass player—and drank and talked. Sossity got drunk (she gets drunk a lot) and started to tell me a story about Drew.

“I used to play music at an open mic Drew emceed. I would ask him if he wanted to jam and play the blues together. He’d always say, ‘Sure, let’s do it.’ Then right before we were scheduled to go up, he’d say ‘My guitar isn’t sounding good,’ or make up some other excuse. After the third time, I started to get the idea that he had no intention whatsoever of playing with me.”

“That’s Drew,” her drummer put in. “You know the type: alpha male.”

That made me laugh, maybe more than I should have, because it was so true. It also struck me that he was the alpha male and I was his protected female. Maybe, I thought ironically, he preferred an exotic member of the species and that was why he kept me around.

Cynthia, my friend, finally showed up and joined us. She saw a boyfriend and eventually left with him. I had to work tomorrow so at around 1 a.m. I told Sossity and the gang I needed to go.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Tommy said.

I was glad he offered. Rocky’s is not in the nicest section of town and I’d parked my car on a side street a long block away. He walked me to where it was parked. I turned to face him.

“Can I call you?” he asked.

“Tommy, I’d really like that.” I gave him my card (I’d had some made at the hospital). He took it and then leaned down for a kiss.

He gave me a long good-night kiss. It was sweet. I said I had to go. He stood there until I pulled out. As I drove away I saw him walk back into the bar.

Drew was at my apartment on Sunday and I told him about Rocky’s. He was unhappy about it and told me so in no uncertain terms.

“Why, are you so pissed, Drew? It was fun. It was good experience at doing impov.”

“I told you she’s a grandstander. She might cut into our gigs if we let her get too much stage time.”

I laughed. He gave me a hard look.

“What’s so funny?”

Sometimes you are thinking about making a choice in life and realize you have already made it.

“You are, Drew. You’re funny. I think you and I are finished.”

He walked up close to me. Part of it was to intimidate me but it was also because he felt genuinely bewildered.

“Sarah, what are you talking about?”

I walked to the other side of the room and then turned to face him. I did not like him standing so close to me.

“Drew, we’re finished. I don’t like being around you. You’re too demanding. And I don’t like you always making jokes about how I look.”

His mouth fell open. He spread his hands.

“I only do that because you’re so cool about it and accept yourself so well.”

“I know,” I said. He was making me nervous. “But it’s been bugging me lately. I don’t like the way you make a spectacle out of me all the time. We need to back off. I don’t think I want to play in the band anymore. And let’s stay away from each other for a while—both of us need some perspective, I think.”

He put his hands on his hips and glared. The look on his face unsettled me. I did not think he would do anything stupid but I also knew how he was when his temper got the better of him.

Just then a knock came at the door.

Relieved that something had broken the tension, and also that someone else had come so I did not have to face Drew by myself, I hurried over to answer. It was Sossity and Jerry.

They had been to visit a friend at Saint Mary’s hospital and remembered my address. I live in a brownstone only a couple of blocks from Saint Mary’s. I told them to come in.

Drew looked pretty stupid standing in the middle of the living room, a scowl on his face, his fists clenched. Both Sossity and Jerry smiled when they saw him.

“You okay, Drew?” Sossity asked, her eyes merry.

He glared at her as well, so much that Jerry gave him a look.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Drew relaxed a little.

“We were having a discussion,” I said. The tension in the room was tangible. “Drew, why don’t you get some beer out the refrigerator?”

He scowled but did what I told him. The four of us sat down at my kitchen table and sipped Sierra Nevada IPA. Drew sat there like a sulky child. Jerry and Sossity kept smirking and rolling their eyes when he could not see them. He listened to our conversation but did not participate. We talked about our jobs. Jerry was a software engineer. I told about being a researcher at the Heart Center over on the Bradford and Leonard near Cornerstone University . Then we got on the subject of how good the music sounded at Rocky’s the other night.

Drew stood and walked to the window. Then he came over to the table.

“So what’s the idea of trying to take my piano girl, Sossity?”

We were all too surprised to answer. After a minute, though, the crassness of him calling me his “piano girl” hit me.

“Drew, you need to leave,” I told him.

I won’t say what he said, but it was pretty crude. In a flash, Jerry was on his feet. Drew retreated a couple of steps but then lunged at Jerry. Before I knew what had happened, Drew was on the floor. He lay there, confused for a few seconds, then got to his feet and rushed at Jerry again. I screamed. Jerry grabbed his arm and twisted it. Drew bellowed in pain.

“Sarah told you to leave,” Jerry said. “I think you’d better do what she said.” He lifted Drew’s arm just slightly. He roared in agony and sank almost to his knees. “Let’s go out the door. Now start walking.” He pushed Drew toward the kitchen door, all the while keeping his grip firm. In a moment, he had pushed him outside and walked him down the steps.

Jerry let him go.

“Don’t come back in or you’ll get a lot worse than what you just got.” He pointed. “Go.”

Drew gaped at him. Too stunned and in too much pain to answer, he turned and walked off toward where his car was parked. Jerry stood there until he drove away then turned and went back inside.

I cried. Sossity and Jerry comforted me. After I calmed down, I thanked Jerry for getting Drew out of the apartment and complimented him on his ability at the martial arts.

“Just call me Jackie Chan,” he grinned.

“Where did you learn karate?” I asked.

He smiled. “Karate? Please! Karate is so crude! That was jujitsu—Japanese, and the grandmother of all martial arts. Nothing like a good joint-lock to convince someone they need to leave the room.”

I laughed. I need to laugh. We sat back down and finished our beer. Sossity asked Jerry to step outside just a moment. After he left, she came over and put her head against mine.

“Sarah, you need to stay at my place tonight. He might come back.”

“You don’t think he’d do that, do you, Sossity?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Drew can be a pretty nasty guy. I think you ought to stay with me just to be on the safe side.”

What she said made sense. We both knew that side of Drew. I told her I would be over to her place at five. She said good-bye and left with Jerry.

When she left I cried more. The whole thing had exhausted me. I locked the doors and windows, took a shower, laid down on the bed, and eventually dozed off.

My phone ringing woke me up. I wondered if it was Sossity. I waited, too, wondering if it might be Drew. Sure enough, it was. I didn’t answer but let it record.

Again, I won’t say what he said because I don’t like using that kind of language. I will repeat one thing, and that was that he called me a “pink.”

I had never been called this before, and I think it is the first time in my life someone has ever used an epithet like that to demean me. I had heard the term. Once I watched a film called Powder. It was about an albino kid. I generally liked the movie, but it struck me as kind of silly because all the kids in his school and community persecute him and reject him because of his appearance—just the opposite of my experience. I doubt that with today’s emphasis on diversity and inclusion that sort of thing would really happen, even in a small town, but I remember one of the things the other kids called him was “a pink.”

So it struck me as curious and even amusing. Humans who are albino don’t have pink eyes, only animal albinos have pink eyes. I smiled. Drew did not even know how to pull off a proper insult.

I went to Sossity's house that night and told her what he had done.

“Call the police. It’s illegal to make harassing phone calls.”

“Sossity, I don’t think I could do that. It would ruin his career as a musician.”

“Don’t accommodate him. He has no right to intimidate you. And if did that who knows what else he might do.”

I promised I would report it tomorrow. Sossity put on some music, got out a bottle of Hibiki, an expensive Japanese whisky. One thing that disturbs me about Sossity is that she drinks so much. She’s drunk about half the time I see her. I asked her she came by such expensive booze.

“I got it at Sutton’s Bay. A rich guy was hitting on me and bought it as a sort of gift/bribe after one of my concerts.”

“Hitting on you? Did he get anywhere?”

She smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

About that time Jerry called and asked if he could come over. Sossity suggested we call Tommy. He was free that night and said he would be over.

I’ll skip the details of that night. We hung around Sossity's apartment, flew in Jerry’s plane, and generally had a great time. Tommy invited me to come to his house for the Sabbath next week. I told him I would be there.

I had never been asked on a date to do something religious, but things went well and I had a great time. His parents were very natural about their religion, and I settled in and enjoyed the meal. After we had finished, Tommy asked me if I wanted to go for a walk.

“Can you do that on the Sabbath?” I quipped.

He grinned. “As long as you don’t go outside the city limits. If you do, you’re only allowed to go 2000 paces.”

I laughed. “I had to ask.”

We walked down his street. Night had fallen. The stars gleamed in the sky. The Sendeks lived on a tree-lined street. Tommy held my hand and then put his arm around me.

“You’re quiet tonight,” I said.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“About what?”

“The game. It’s a lot of pressure on all of us.” He paused and then added, “I’m also only a few points away from breaking the scoring record for Michigan collegiate ball. I’m a little stressed out about that too.”

“Why?”

“On the one hand, I’m competitive. I would not be a good athlete if I weren’t. So I want to break the mark, and that’s on my mind. On the other hand, it seems like a lot of silly crap. I asked myself why I should care and why I’m getting all stressed out about it.”

“I was never much of an athlete.”