My life with Tom was bliss, he was a good man, he always made sure I was ok, made sure our children were ok, he would never hurt me. I loved him and he he loved me, but in my life the life of a black women, there isn’t a happy ending. Now I don’t know what to do. It was only a couple of weeks ago when Mr Finch told me that my Tom was dead. And for a while, I blamed myself.
You see, Tom told me about that Mayella Ewell, said that when he saw her she sometimes looked mighty beaten up. I felt sorry for the girl, it’s hard to be at the bottom, people looking down on you always, no even your own family respecting you. I said to him “Tom, tomorrow, when you walk past that house, you say good morning…show more content… It seemed to be lasting a lifetime, maybe Tom’s. I just wanted it to end so I could take my Tom home. You see, there was no doubt in my mind that Tom would be innocent because I knew he didn’t do anything wrong. When that liar, Bob Ewell got up to testify, I was so mad, I could’ve leapt up and giving him a beating, see how he liked it. When Tom gave his testimony, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for little Mayella. She didn’t have no friends, there was no one talking to her, being friendly to her, except my Tom, and now he was paying the price. Mr Finch’s final testimony was brilliant, there was no way they could convict Tom now, no way. But then that man of the jury got up and said guilty, and then he said it again, guilty and he wouldn’t stop saying it guilty, guilty, guilty like rubbing salt in a fresh wound. I couldn’t comprehend what I was hearing, I was to confused, my whole word just came crashing down and how could I be so naive. The truth is, Tom was never innocent as long as he was guilty of being a black man. They didn’t let me say goodbye, not me, not my children they just whisked him out of that court room faster than a knife fight in a phone booth. I didn’t get to say goodbye, there was no long romantic glance across the crowded court room. I was just so flustered and people were cheering down below and the kids were crying in my ear and I didn’t get to look at him one last time. Mr Finch tried but there was no visiting in prison, that was white privilege. Boy am I done with white privilege, even in this day and age and in a court room. I thought a court room would be the one place in Maycomb were they ain’t any white privilege, well I guess I’ve been living in a fantasy
