When I sit- daddy pullin' the chair out for me, I don't speak. I assume he had told our guests his excuse, that I'm feelin' all distressed cause of Mary gettin' married and leavin' me. I bet they knew it was all made up- but they didn't question nothin'. Daddy got power and if they got me, they got power too.
The young man smiles at me but I pretend I don't see it and stare at my plate, wishin' I could eat the food on it. But I already had a lady's share- more than a lady's share- and I would get in trouble again if I even had one inklin'. I don't want no more trouble.
"Corinne is such a pretty name," the young man says, tryin' to butter me up. He don't really need to strike my fancy- but it'd be easier. For him and daddy at least.
"Thank you," I say, "My daddy picked it out."
I don't mention my mother, the one who had actually chosen my name. Daddy hadn't been there when me and Mary was born, and when mother saw I was a girl, she told Miss. Henry- her nurse at the time- and Miss. Lizabeth to call me Corinne. She hadn't had time to choose Mary's, cause she was dead and all before she even knew her sex. Miss. Lizabeth picked her's. Daddy hadn't had anythin' to do with it. But I don't say that. I never say the truth.
"Is that right?" He asks, pretendin' to be all impressed. Even if I wasn't lyin' and daddy had named me, it ain't like he invented the cotton gin. Namin' people ain't that hard.
But I jus' nod. He tries catchin' my gaze, and after daddy kicks me with his foot under the table, I look up at meet his. Or, well I do for a half a second, then jus' pretend to for daddy's sake. I'd rather study him.
He jus' like every other southern man I've met. His skin is like mine- like daddy's, like Mary's, like the man sittin' right next to him. He got light eyes- my eyes- and brownish hair. Maybe outside it'd be blond. His face is no more than plain and borin'. He do got muscles though, I can see 'em through his nice shirt and he tall. Maybe as tall as Samuel. But as soon as I think that thought I take it back. I ain't gonna compare him to Samuel, cause there ain't no comparison there. This- young man is white and Samuel ain't. That all the comparison that's needed.
The sudden thought gets me all irked, and mad at myself so I decide to be real pleasant the rest of dinner. Screw leavin'- it ain't ever gonna happen and at least this man ain't bein' too rude. He actually tryin' to talk to me.
"Say," I ask, lookin' straight in his eye, "you ever gonna tell me your name?"
He smiles,all teeth, glad that I'm finally playin' along, "Lloyd."
The young man smiles at me but I pretend I don't see it and stare at my plate, wishin' I could eat the food on it. But I already had a lady's share- more than a lady's share- and I would get in trouble again if I even had one inklin'. I don't want no more trouble.
"Corinne is such a pretty name," the young man says, tryin' to butter me up. He don't really need to strike my fancy- but it'd be easier. For him and daddy at least.
"Thank you," I say, "My daddy picked it out."
I don't mention my mother, the one who had actually chosen my name. Daddy hadn't been there when me and Mary was born, and when mother saw I was a girl, she told Miss. Henry- her nurse at the time- and Miss. Lizabeth to call me Corinne. She hadn't had time to choose Mary's, cause she was dead and all before she even knew her sex. Miss. Lizabeth picked her's. Daddy hadn't had anythin' to do with it. But I don't say that. I never say the truth.
"Is that right?" He asks, pretendin' to be all impressed. Even if I wasn't lyin' and daddy had named me, it ain't like he invented the cotton gin. Namin' people ain't that hard.
But I jus' nod. He tries catchin' my gaze, and after daddy kicks me with his foot under the table, I look up at meet his. Or, well I do for a half a second, then jus' pretend to for daddy's sake. I'd rather study him.
He jus' like every other southern man I've met. His skin is like mine- like daddy's, like Mary's, like the man sittin' right next to him. He got light eyes- my eyes- and brownish hair. Maybe outside it'd be blond. His face is no more than plain and borin'. He do got muscles though, I can see 'em through his nice shirt and he tall. Maybe as tall as Samuel. But as soon as I think that thought I take it back. I ain't gonna compare him to Samuel, cause there ain't no comparison there. This- young man is white and Samuel ain't. That all the comparison that's needed.
The sudden thought gets me all irked, and mad at myself so I decide to be real pleasant the rest of dinner. Screw leavin'- it ain't ever gonna happen and at least this man ain't bein' too rude. He actually tryin' to talk to me.
"Say," I ask, lookin' straight in his eye, "you ever gonna tell me your name?"
He smiles,all teeth, glad that I'm finally playin' along, "Lloyd."
