HARSH WORDS
17

9781441208477_0103_001

AS I WAS STILL STANDING IN THE PARLOR HOLDING the three gold coins in my hand that Emma had found in the basement, I suddenly realized I heard dogs barking outside. I stuffed the coins into the pocket of my dress and ran outside as Emma climbed out of the cellar with William. There was Katie in the distance walking toward the house. I was so happy to see her I didn’t even notice at first that she wasn’t alone. By then I had all but forgotten the coins.

I ran toward them, then all of a sudden saw the girl at Katie’s side, holding her hand. I was still overjoyed to see Katie, but I slowed down as I ran.

“Who’s that?” said Aleta as she saw me coming.

“That’s Mayme,” answered Katie. “She’s a girl who lives with me at my house.”

“But she’s colored,” said Aleta.

“Mayme’s my friend. I don’t even think about what color she is.”

Katie let go of Aleta’s hand and ran toward me. I started running again and we ran right up to each other, then slowed down, hugging and laughing as we met. I’m not sure we didn’t shed a few tears mixed in with it too. It seemed like we were always crying, either happy cries or sad ones.

“I was so worried about you!” I said as I stepped back. “I got home and couldn’t find you anywhere! I discovered Emma in the cellar just a minute ago.”

“What about me!” laughed Katie. “I thought you’d be back yesterday, and you never came and never came, and then all night … I was so worried that you might not come back at all.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Katie.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you all about it. So much exciting happened, you won’t believe it!”

Before we could say anything more, Katie’s new little friend slowly approached and stood at Katie’s side, looking over at me like I had the plague or something. It reminded me of the looks I’d gotten from the white ladies in town the day before. On top of her grief over losing her mother, the poor girl had never in her life seen anything like what she’d just witnessed—a white person and a black person hugging each other and laughing and talking like friends. Yet the expression on her face was not just one of bewilderment, but of something I’ve seen many times throughout my life and could never quite understand. It was a look of anger. I reckon if somebody doesn’t want to like black people, or if a black person doesn’t want to like white people, maybe that’s their own affair. But I could never see why they’d get so angry if other folks saw it different. If I wanted Katie to be my friend, why should that make any other colored person mad? And if Katie wanted me for a friend, why should that make Aleta mad?

From the look on the girl’s face, I’d never have suspected that she’d just lost her mama.

“Mayme,” said Katie, “this is my new friend, Aleta.”

“Hello, Miss Aleta,” I said with a smile, holding out my hand toward her.

She pulled back with a look of disgust on her face, eyeing my hand as if it was a snake trying to bite her.

“Don’t you touch me!” she snapped.

Katie looked at me apologetically, then added softly, “There’s been an accident. Aleta’s mother …”

Then she stopped.

“Aleta,” she said, turning and looking back at the girl. “Why don’t you run on ahead to the house,” she said, not thinking at first that another surprise was waiting for her there just as bad as the one she’d just had! “I need to talk to Mayme for a minute,” she added. “I’ll be right there.”

Aleta dashed off, followed by the dogs. I think she was glad to get away from me.

“I’m sorry, Mayme,” said Katie. “I had no idea she would do that.”

“It’s all right, Miss Katie. What happened?”

Katie filled me in as we walked back to the house.

“You’re sure she’s dead?” I said. “You want me to go out and look?”

“Her skin was cold, Mayme,” said Katie with a little shudder and a look like she was going to be sick. “She was cold and pale, with her eyes half open—ugh! When you see a face like that, you know a person’s dead.”

I nodded.

It was a little awkward figuring out what to do about Aleta’s mother. I’d have been glad to go bury her myself, but I didn’t know where she was. And Katie didn’t think that’d be such a good idea with how the girl felt about me, especially since she’d told her she would take care of it. But she couldn’t very well take the girl with her. But neither could she leave her with me.

“I’ll go down to the colored cabins, Miss Katie, if you want to do the burying by yourself,” I said. “I’ll just wait there till you get back.”

“Oh, Mayme, I don’t want you to have to—”

“It’s all right, Miss Katie,” I said. “I don’t mind. I’ll take my reader and the journal you gave me and the pen and ink. I gotta try to write down about everything that happened yesterday.”

Katie nodded.

“I’ll give her something to eat,” she said, “and see if I can get her to take a nap. I’ll tell her to wait in the house until I get back.”

“I’ll go hitch up a buggy for you,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go along and help? I could go up the road now so she wouldn’t see me.”

Katie thought a minute.

“I think this is something I should do by myself,” she said. “You helped me when I didn’t know what to do. You buried my whole family, Mayme. Now it’s my turn to try to help her. But if you would hitch the small buggy, I would appreciate it. And, Mayme, could you please put two shovels in back, the small one I usually use and a regular one.”

I nodded and walked toward the barn while Katie continued on to the house. But by then Aleta had walked through the kitchen door, then turned and ran back outside toward Katie with a scowl on her face.

“There’s another nigger girl in your house!” she announced as though Katie would be as shocked as she was.

Katie stooped down, gently put her hands on Aleta’s shoulders, and looked into her eyes.

“Aleta,” she said, “that’s Emma. And we don’t call her that word. She’s a nice colored girl whose skin just happens to be brown like yours is white. She came here needing my help just like you did.”

“But she’s in the house.”

“Yes, she is, Aleta,” Katie replied calmly.

“Is she your slave?”

“No, she’s my friend and I let friends who need help stay here … like Emma, like Mayme, and now like you.”

Aleta didn’t change her mind about Emma and me because of what Katie said. But Katie’s kindness, along with the realization that seemed to deepen within her as the afternoon progressed that her mama was really gone, enabled her at least to tolerate our presence for the rest of the day.

She avoided us, and looked at us with disgust in her eyes, but she made no more outbursts.

A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton
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