"I don' understand it," I whisper- too embarrassed to say it real loud. I don't get why it'd be this hard neither- I mean I learned how to read real easy. Isn't writin' easier?
"G," he says, writin' a cursive G on the paper I got fo' us. I lean in closer, my cheek right against his, my breath on 'is ear. I gotta- to be able to see it well, even still I squintin' in this light. I brought out a lattern, but quickly after we started I learned that it ain't enough ligh'. Tomorrow I'll brin' another, maybe two.
"You got that?" He asks, handin' me the pencil. The first few letters- 'specially A weren't too bad. But this, with the loop at the top an' the gravy-boat like structure I lost. It too complicated fo' me. He don't catch on an' pushes the paper in my direction anyway.
With my cheeks as hot as fire, I shake my head. I was hopin' I wouldn't have to admit it out loud. "Not really."
I expect 'im to sigh or grumble a bit- but he surprises me by doin' neither. 'Stead he wraps 'is hand round mine- the one in which I holdin' the pencil and says, "Let do it together."
I nod, but he ain't lookin' at me so it real moot. He don't need conformation- cause he kno' my answer in 'is head. He takes my hand an' with it the pencil up with his, drawin' the first line, then he loops it 'round at the top, an' takes it back down, all curvy- almos' like half a circle, then through the first line we drew.
"G," he whispers, his breath hot in my ear. It give me goosebumps, though I ain't sure why. Nothin' cold out 'ere- 'specially not his breath.
"You got it now?"
No. But I don't say as much, shakin' 'is hand off mine, an' startin' to draw the letter on my own. It comes out lopsided, with two loops 'stead of one an' no crossin' lines. It ain't much of a G- more like a scribble design.
"Close," he says- though it a lie. It ain't nearly like it should be- therefore it ain't close at all. But I 'preciate that he wanna protect my feelings'. Most slaves wouldn't care- mos' white men wouldn' neither.
"Can you show me again?"
He shake his head- no. "It wouldn't help you. Let's do it together 'gain."
"Alrigh'."
He takes my 'and again, an' leads me through the letter. I should be lookin' at the paper- memorizin' 'ow he does it, but I ain't. I lookin' at 'im instead- impressed by all he is. By all he can do.
"G," he says, writin' a cursive G on the paper I got fo' us. I lean in closer, my cheek right against his, my breath on 'is ear. I gotta- to be able to see it well, even still I squintin' in this light. I brought out a lattern, but quickly after we started I learned that it ain't enough ligh'. Tomorrow I'll brin' another, maybe two.
"You got that?" He asks, handin' me the pencil. The first few letters- 'specially A weren't too bad. But this, with the loop at the top an' the gravy-boat like structure I lost. It too complicated fo' me. He don't catch on an' pushes the paper in my direction anyway.
With my cheeks as hot as fire, I shake my head. I was hopin' I wouldn't have to admit it out loud. "Not really."
I expect 'im to sigh or grumble a bit- but he surprises me by doin' neither. 'Stead he wraps 'is hand round mine- the one in which I holdin' the pencil and says, "Let do it together."
I nod, but he ain't lookin' at me so it real moot. He don't need conformation- cause he kno' my answer in 'is head. He takes my hand an' with it the pencil up with his, drawin' the first line, then he loops it 'round at the top, an' takes it back down, all curvy- almos' like half a circle, then through the first line we drew.
"G," he whispers, his breath hot in my ear. It give me goosebumps, though I ain't sure why. Nothin' cold out 'ere- 'specially not his breath.
"You got it now?"
No. But I don't say as much, shakin' 'is hand off mine, an' startin' to draw the letter on my own. It comes out lopsided, with two loops 'stead of one an' no crossin' lines. It ain't much of a G- more like a scribble design.
"Close," he says- though it a lie. It ain't nearly like it should be- therefore it ain't close at all. But I 'preciate that he wanna protect my feelings'. Most slaves wouldn't care- mos' white men wouldn' neither.
"Can you show me again?"
He shake his head- no. "It wouldn't help you. Let's do it together 'gain."
"Alrigh'."
He takes my 'and again, an' leads me through the letter. I should be lookin' at the paper- memorizin' 'ow he does it, but I ain't. I lookin' at 'im instead- impressed by all he is. By all he can do.
