After Lena had seen the big black man urinating beside the creek, she went into a reconstructed denial. For days afterward, she rationalized that she was probably mistaken about the size of his penis. No man could have a penis that size. Could he? Surely, she must have seen something in the foreground that made her think that it was his penis. Being brought up sheltered, she had never heard any stories about black men. Most older people railed about how dirty and bad smelling blacks were. They were tagged with being lazy and immoral. That is why the informal meetings of certain people vowed to be diligent in observing and reporting any type of behavior by a black person deemed to be inappropriate.
While not recruiting any black people into the white congregations, many Christian people were sensitive to the poverty of the southern blacks. Rural white people employed domestic help which was mainly black. The local lumber mills and feed stores employed strong black men to do the heavy work. In fact, the jobs that were supposedly relegated to black people, made them off limits to white people. No matter how poor a white person was, they would not stoop so low as to take a job that was made for the 'Nigras' as more civilized people called them.
In these jobs that black people performed for whites, there was a certain social level. Most white people were respectful of the rights and feelings of their black employees. There was an uneasy peace among employer and employee. Surely some blacks held an internal anger for having to work for 'Whitey' but most had to keep it in check to avoid abject poverty. Social programs didn't get rolling much until the sixties. Even that would create a greater divide socially with white southerners thinking that welfare was for the lazy blacks who never married and the black mothers drew welfare.
The civil rights movement in full was years away. The military was integrated and the north was mostly integrated but the south was fully segregated. The integrated north had problems of their own. Traditionally the savior of the blacks from slavery, many northerners referred to black people exactly like their southern brothers.
With that backdrop, Lena should have dismissed the whole scene as an aberration. For that to happen, it took two perfectly timed events independent of each other. She tried to rationalize the perception away always without success. She knew deep down what she had seen. It was a big black flaccid penis that could be at least four times as big as her husband's. She had no benchmark. She recalled her carpool friend, Mildred, talking about big penises. That must mean that there were small ones also. If that was the case, then she naturally assumed that her husband's penis was indeed very small. She thought about how she could not have an orgasm during intercourse. She could have shattering orgasms with her fingers on her pussy.
All of that made no difference. She was the wife of a southern preacher. Her behavior should be beyond reproach. She could tell no one about her masturbation. There was no one to tell. While friendly, she didn't have anyone whom she could share intimate secrets with. She saw then why Mildred waited for her other friend to talk openly about sex and penis size. She certainly could not talk to her mother. Sex was not a topic that was easy for her mom to discuss. She wondered if her mother had had the same conflicts. Maybe her father was better endowed. She had to wipe that thought clear out of her head.
Still, it was a one-time only chance encounter. Or would it be? Being a godly woman, she certainly would wipe her memory of the event. But could she?
Lena did venture into the black section of town. Many white people would not support her in her efforts to minister to blacks. They had their own churches and certainly worshipped in a different way. However, that didn't stop people from interacting with black ministers and church officials. It was like the schools in a way. Give the black people what was considered equal facilities and they would be content not to interact with the whites. Several of the churches had outreach to black congregations to supply hymnals and other service items. In that vein, Lena and Neil did a good job of balancing the predominant view of segregation while performing their outreach to the black community.
One afternoon after she got home from work, she decided to take a walk along the creek. It was not too hot and she had supper in the refrigerator. Neil would be late on that day since he was in the library preparing a paper. She wasn't then hungry and decided to wait until Neil got home and eat with him. Whether this was just an innocent walk or she had a burning curiosity was a topic for later. Surely the black man would not be fishing at that hour.
She walked down the dirt road and was about to cross the bridge when Damon appeared coming up the bank from under the bridge. There was no way he could have seen her on the road since he was under the shade of the bridge. It was again, pure chance. He looked startled as he saw the pretty white woman about to cross the bridge. It was too awkward not to at least acknowledge him. She smiled and said hello.
He returned her greeting. She, feeling more awkward, said, "I guess you have been fishing? Catch anything?"
"Just some perch for supper. Little ones, but they will stink the grease."
She chuckled at the humorous colloquialism. "That's funny. I am Lena Glidden. My husband is pastor of the church just on top of the hill."
"Yes, I know," He answered.
She knew quite well that all people in small communities either knew each other or knew of each other. While she didn't know who Damon was, she didn't see any reason to be rude.
"Oh, I am Damon Matthews."
"Pleased to meet you, Damon." She replied. "Do you fish here quite often?"
"Yes, ma'am. In the afternoons I fish under the bridge. The perch and bream seem to go there. I didn't fish this morning so I wanted to get some fresh ones for supper."
"Does your wife fry them?"
"No ma'am. I'm not married. As you can see, I have a bad limp. I draw military disability and do odd jobs to get by. I caught some bad shrapnel in Korea. It shattered my leg and did some muscle damage. I can't stand long enough to work in the sawmill so I do some work where I can sit occasionally."
"That's terrible. But I do so appreciate your service to the country."
