Colors: An American Story
There once was an orange girl living in a land of green people. The latter had always been favored. More than anything, Tanjy wanted to be green like her friends, Olive and Sage. They were not like the girls in her school. Sage lived in a mansion with two ivory pillars and a driveway bordered by a plush pine forest. Tanjy wondered why everything good was always green.
The girls met at Allendale Arts. Tanjy had won a lottery for improvisational dance. Classes were held at Allendale Towers, a sky-high luxury complex with well-heeled tenants and world-renowned conglomerates. In the beginning, Tanjy had no idea that her new friend owned the place.
Olive’s dad had started out as an Ivy League Investment Banker. But when the SEC cracked down on securities malfeasance, he closed his firm and accepted a nine-to-five job. As CFO of Allendale Petroleum, he met and married Alexandra Allendale—Olive’s Mom. And in the strangest story Tanjy had ever heard, he took his wife’s surname, becoming the laughing stock of Wall Street. Alexandra was sole heir to the family fortune. That provided a fair amount of fodder for the tabloids. But that is how green people roll. They can put their name on anything—space shuttles, hospitals, global enterprises, even human beings. Alexandra opted for an abbreviated version of her birthright—Mrs. Allen—less complicated, less baggage, and less blueblood. Now, her time and attention were devoted to her personal ambitions—philanthropy, kindness, and maintaining the status quo.
The Allendale dynasty had been floundering for years, ceding an ominous share of profits to natural gas. Eventually, the family sold a third of its real estate and moved into Allendale Towers. Olive lived on top of the world, in the penthouse, which couldn’t be seen from the street. Tanjy tried from three blocks away, but ended up with a crick in her neck. Somewhere around the sixth floor, a majestic marquee made of something that looked like platinum, wrapped around the perimeter of the building. But the engraving was unambiguous. On all four sides, embedded in a stunning neon green, was a name that required no further explanation. ALLENDALE.
Intuitively, Tanjy understood that her family couldn’t compete in a social structure purposely and perfectly designed for the elite. Not yet, anyway.
Three days a week, she took the bus after school to the other side of the city to study the ways of green people. But the day the dance instructor announced to the students that Tanjy had natural rhythm, she withdrew from the class and signed up for ballet. And there was Olive, as graceful as a swan. Two weeks later, Tanjy’s mom had to work overtime, so Mrs. Allen offered to take her home. The two mothers agreed that their girls should never ride with a stranger, even one in Mrs. Allen’s employ. The only time Tanjy had been in a limo was when Uncle Herbert died. Now here she was riding in the longest car she had ever seen, being driven by a stately chauffeur with a proper British accent. How Tanjy longed to be green.
After seeing her friends’ fancy homes, it would have been natural to feel a little ashamed of her own. But Tanjy didn’t. Inequities aside, she wasn’t embarrassed in the least. She was proud of her house and all the pretty green trees lining the street. Her Mom and Dad had scrimped and saved to move their family into this community. Besides, Tanjy was acrophobic and could never live in a penthouse on the 48th floor. So, she learned to strike a balance between the lifestyle of middle-class neighbors and that of her privileged friends.
She invited Olive and her mom inside for iced tea. And to her surprise, they accepted. Mrs. Allen requested a glass for her driver, whose station required that he wait in the car. She welcomed the mango treat with the enthusiasm of an athlete, yet drank it with the nobility of a queen. At sixteen, Tanjy hosted her guests like the lady of the manor. Mrs. Allen remarked on how well she’d been raised. For Olive, the visit was a real-life lesson, one that she processed immediately. Tanjy wasn’t rich like she and Sage. Orange people do not inherit wealth.
Sage was obedient to her faith. She prayed at the designated hours and dressed in traditional attire. Her father was a textile magnate, importing and exporting exotic carpets and cloths across the continents. All except Antarctica, for which he was developing durable designs to bequeath to the next generation. Sage’s family was ostracized by historically prominent circles, but they were circles in which her parents had never desired to be. Once at the movies, a group of boys made cruel and distasteful jokes about her clothing, but security threw them out within the space of two minutes. That upset Tanjy and Olive more than Sage. They weren’t accustomed to that particular brand of hate. But after fifteen years of living, Sage was.
Despite the class distinctions, their parents had similar rules—homework, minimal TV, zero social media, and lights out by ten. Sleepovers were permitted occasionally in carefully vetted households. Parties were approved for appropriately chaperoned venues. These were good girls—no cannabis, alcohol, drugs of any kind, or secret meetings with hormone-obsessed young men. There would be plenty of time for dating later on.
Tanjy did well in private school, another mark to which aspiring people aim. But her parents declined the stipend of The Allendale Foundation. They were opposed to charity, which some would call handouts. Or worse yet—entitlements. They knew their daughter would qualify for academic scholarships. On her own. And she did. Aeronautical Engineering was Tanjy’s goal. Olive and Sage were endowed with legacy admissions. But none of that mattered. They were besties and always would be, right up until the day they died.
Sadly, college offered no refuge for Sage. Campus tensions were mounting at previously prestigious universities. Intolerance sprouted hairs like Medusa, snaking its tentacles around many of the brightest young minds. Olive was falsely accused of being supremacist. She bore the weight of her inheritance every day of her life. Tanjy conquered her own demons and continued to excel and defy expectations. Through it all, the ladies prevailed and rose to their respective callings. Time passed swiftly. And then came the biggest day of their lives.
To thunderous applause, Tanjy stepped up on the dais to accept her party’s nomination. She beckoned for her running mate to join her on stage. They were firsts. And together, they would shatter the glass. With Ezra Abrams at her side, no one would ever be left out again. In that moment, the imaginary prism disappeared. The colors were gone, and everybody was the same.
* * *
A few months before the election, Sage and Ezra locked eyes. Their marriage would challenge hostilities dating back thousands of years. The world is holding its breath to see what happens next.
