He nods as a response, pullin' me to my feet before runnin' off. He don't actually run though- that jus' a thin' of speech- he walk, all slow like he don't want to reach 'is destination. He look back a couple of times, once shoutin' somethin' that don't reach my ears. I smile back anyways, pretendin' that I hear- that I understand.
Once he almos' not visible no mo'- I brush my skirts an' fix the bonnet righ' back on my hair. Luckily it cover any dirt that got inside it last nigh'. I don't go in righ' away, walkin' lon' the cotton field where I see them slaves already workin'. I wonder if Samuel out there, doin' 'is work with one hand only. I kno' Cecile ain't- she jus' a house slave an' I glad fo' that. Work out in daddy's field much harder- 'specially when the sun at it's hottest.
Although I do my best not to- my thoughts 'ventually wander back to last night. I wonder if we was rapped 'round each other like las' time- black an' white- grey. I really hope we was not- cause that ain't righ' a girl lyin'- literally- with a black man. Samuel could get lynched fo' it- me jus' a beatin' from daddy.
When I back inside- Mary 'ready up with Cecile, watchin' 'er make breakfast fo' us.
"Why you outside?" Mary asks, not lookin' too interested in my answer. "You get up that early this mornin'?"
"Yessir, it looked all nice it from my window, so I decided to test it."
Today, she cant tell if I lyin' or no. Today, she seem a little back to the ol' Mary. It ain't much of a welcome change- I liked 'er better when I could understand 'er some.
"You look all dirty- you lay down or somethin'?"
"'Course- the grass looked real invitin'," I say, turin' to Cecile. "What breakfast today?"
"Normal," she responds, quick as lightin' in a heavy storm. Normal. I sigh, I was hopin' fo' somethin' different.
"You do this a lot?" Mary asks, gainin' my attention 'gain.
"Ask Cecile what we eatin'?"
"No- outside. You go outside an' lay down in that itchy grass with all them bugs every mornin'?" She sounds repulsed, 'er lips curlin' an' 'er eyes squintin' down real tight.
"I wasn't doin' that," I finally look, Mary smilin' like she won. Cecile turn 'round to 'ear what I really doin' too. "I was prayin' to God. I was askin' 'em about mother, okay?"
Once he almos' not visible no mo'- I brush my skirts an' fix the bonnet righ' back on my hair. Luckily it cover any dirt that got inside it last nigh'. I don't go in righ' away, walkin' lon' the cotton field where I see them slaves already workin'. I wonder if Samuel out there, doin' 'is work with one hand only. I kno' Cecile ain't- she jus' a house slave an' I glad fo' that. Work out in daddy's field much harder- 'specially when the sun at it's hottest.
Although I do my best not to- my thoughts 'ventually wander back to last night. I wonder if we was rapped 'round each other like las' time- black an' white- grey. I really hope we was not- cause that ain't righ' a girl lyin'- literally- with a black man. Samuel could get lynched fo' it- me jus' a beatin' from daddy.
When I back inside- Mary 'ready up with Cecile, watchin' 'er make breakfast fo' us.
"Why you outside?" Mary asks, not lookin' too interested in my answer. "You get up that early this mornin'?"
"Yessir, it looked all nice it from my window, so I decided to test it."
Today, she cant tell if I lyin' or no. Today, she seem a little back to the ol' Mary. It ain't much of a welcome change- I liked 'er better when I could understand 'er some.
"You look all dirty- you lay down or somethin'?"
"'Course- the grass looked real invitin'," I say, turin' to Cecile. "What breakfast today?"
"Normal," she responds, quick as lightin' in a heavy storm. Normal. I sigh, I was hopin' fo' somethin' different.
"You do this a lot?" Mary asks, gainin' my attention 'gain.
"Ask Cecile what we eatin'?"
"No- outside. You go outside an' lay down in that itchy grass with all them bugs every mornin'?" She sounds repulsed, 'er lips curlin' an' 'er eyes squintin' down real tight.
"I wasn't doin' that," I finally look, Mary smilin' like she won. Cecile turn 'round to 'ear what I really doin' too. "I was prayin' to God. I was askin' 'em about mother, okay?"
