“Lena I’m not telling you again, we can’t afford no fancy clothing and definitely no fancy jewelry!”, Marcus yelled at me. I couldn’t hold the tears much longer. See, being a “negro” had its bad times. Growing up was no better. I was born in Montgomery, Alabama on the fifth day of July to Loretta and Jackson Wells. They worked hard to make sure I grew up with food on the table and clothes to wear, yet, they never got a day in their lives to just relax. Them dying put a hole in my heart no one could ever fill completely. They didn’t deserve to be hated so much. I wanted to punish whoever set their house aflame. My parents couldn’t afford college so I got a job as a maid for a rich, whites family just north five miles from where Marcus and I lived. Marcus and I called them “whites” because they call us negroes, so they should have a name also. We got married just over seven years ago, it was small and we could barely afford wedding bands, though it was the happiest day of my life. My parents were still alive and I was so in love with Marcus. I still love him, but lately it has been hard to get by. “Marcus please, don’t yell. I’m sorry I got so ahead of myself and I saw all those nice, fancy clothes and the jewelry. I just wanted to have them so bad I -” I couldn’t say no more because my sobs had become uncontrollable. Marcus came over to me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting gesture. “I’m sorry Lena, don’t cry please. I understand you want to have something pretty to wear but you don’t need any of that fancy stuff. You’re beautiful without those things no doubt about it.” He gently uses his thumb to wipe away the tears. I look into his eyes, and I just knew everythings going to be alright.