(a/n: sorry if that last page sounded bizarre. I had a high fever, it was late at night and I was drugged,but not illegally of course)
"What you do durin' the week?" I ask, hopin' that it ain't nothin' important. That it ain't nothin' where daddy would notice his absence. Before he can answer there are footsteps on the stairs, daddy and the Mistress, talkin' 'bout her want for a baby boy. Daddy keeps sayin' don't worry, but she ain't takin' his advice to heart.
We all silent, extremely so, holdin' our breath. I see, beneath the table that my leg shakin' real good. I know that if daddy saw us, he wouldn't know nothin', so it really pointless to be so quiet and nervous but we all are anyways. Sometimes you do things that don't make no sense.
Eventually the voices fade as they head to the parlor. We each sigh, relieved.
"On the gin," Cecile responds fo' 'em, right after those voices are gone. She lookin' mighty pleased, grinnin' down at the food. I don't know why she all smiley, but lately she been real depressed so I don' question it too much. I want to keep her happy.
"When do you stop?"
He let's out a fake laugh, lookin' over Cecile's shoulder. I can tell it fake cause it don't last too lon' and he ain't smilin' when he does it. He backs away from Cecile, still watchin' her stir the soup. It don't look like he know how to cook real well, cause he ain't really doin' much.
"When it too dark to work," he finally responds, soundin' tired as death. His hard facade his gone, and I jus' see the pain beneath it. He tryin' to run away cause he don't like bein' no slave. But that thought makes me real sad, so I decide that I ain't gonna think 'bout it no more. He a colored man, he got no choice and that's the way it should be.
"What 'bout after that. Can you help me after?" My voice sounds real strained, cause no matter how much I try not to, I feel real bad for 'em.
Slowly, like he fightin' a battle with himself he nods. But the whole thing make me real weary. Maybe this ain't such a good idea. But one thought of James, and I know I got no other choice.
"Can we start next Monday?"
"Sure thin'"
And there ain't no other word spoken', 'till Cecile calls that supper is ready.
"What you do durin' the week?" I ask, hopin' that it ain't nothin' important. That it ain't nothin' where daddy would notice his absence. Before he can answer there are footsteps on the stairs, daddy and the Mistress, talkin' 'bout her want for a baby boy. Daddy keeps sayin' don't worry, but she ain't takin' his advice to heart.
We all silent, extremely so, holdin' our breath. I see, beneath the table that my leg shakin' real good. I know that if daddy saw us, he wouldn't know nothin', so it really pointless to be so quiet and nervous but we all are anyways. Sometimes you do things that don't make no sense.
Eventually the voices fade as they head to the parlor. We each sigh, relieved.
"On the gin," Cecile responds fo' 'em, right after those voices are gone. She lookin' mighty pleased, grinnin' down at the food. I don't know why she all smiley, but lately she been real depressed so I don' question it too much. I want to keep her happy.
"When do you stop?"
He let's out a fake laugh, lookin' over Cecile's shoulder. I can tell it fake cause it don't last too lon' and he ain't smilin' when he does it. He backs away from Cecile, still watchin' her stir the soup. It don't look like he know how to cook real well, cause he ain't really doin' much.
"When it too dark to work," he finally responds, soundin' tired as death. His hard facade his gone, and I jus' see the pain beneath it. He tryin' to run away cause he don't like bein' no slave. But that thought makes me real sad, so I decide that I ain't gonna think 'bout it no more. He a colored man, he got no choice and that's the way it should be.
"What 'bout after that. Can you help me after?" My voice sounds real strained, cause no matter how much I try not to, I feel real bad for 'em.
Slowly, like he fightin' a battle with himself he nods. But the whole thing make me real weary. Maybe this ain't such a good idea. But one thought of James, and I know I got no other choice.
"Can we start next Monday?"
"Sure thin'"
And there ain't no other word spoken', 'till Cecile calls that supper is ready.
