"Do ya miss 'er?"
Cecile blink at me, a little frown mixed with smile on 'er face. She seem surprised an' confused by my question, like she ain't even think that I'd never even ask. She don't miss 'er, I kno' she don't. But she can lie, no? Can't she lie fo' me?
I wait but she don't even respond, she jus' keep starin' out the sky. Maybe she done lyin'. Or maybe it too hard a lie to even say- I dunno. Sometime it can be that, it jus' so ain't true that it hard to tell some one.
I hate to think that my mother that bad. Cecile can't even lie 'bout 'er no mo'. So I don't- think it that is. She jus' don't wanna talk cause she tired, an' don't wanna get too emotional.
"I mean- you don't gotta answer me." I kno' what I say, but I real hope she don't listen to me. I real hope she tell me wha' I want. Even if she is too emotional.
"No, Corinne," she pause, both 'er voice an' legs. She grab my hand an' pull me to look at 'er, sighin' louder than I even hear 'er befo'. "Corinne- I was jus' pausin' 'cause I-I do miss 'er- that all."
She turn 'round, an' continue walkin' back toward the manor. "She was sweet to me, like you are. She didn't treat me so bad. She didn't treat no body."
Her voice rise a bit, like maybe she on the edge of cryin'. Or maybe somethin' else.
"Thank you," I tell 'er as we stop again, leanin' on 'er shoulder. At that moment I wish that she white again, so I wouldn't feel so wron' dependin' on 'er so much. Cause I don't wanna go back in that manor with them white folk who are so wron' an' mean an' fake.
"Oh, chil'- don't thank me." She pat my hair, an' I sigh into 'er. Oh, why ain't you white? "Please I don't deserve to be thaked."
She start walkin', an' pullin' me toward them- toward them people whom I left this mornin'. I don' wanna go back- I wanna stay out 'ere an' talk to 'er. Have ;er tell me stories, like she did when I was a chil' to escape.
"Aren't we's gonna stay out here?" I desperate- she can 'ear it in my voice. She cans see it in my eyes.
She let go of my han'. "You's can- if you wanna."
"Why you gotta go?"
"I got my chores," she say, lookin' down. "I been neglectin' 'em some time in this mornin'."
Cecile blink at me, a little frown mixed with smile on 'er face. She seem surprised an' confused by my question, like she ain't even think that I'd never even ask. She don't miss 'er, I kno' she don't. But she can lie, no? Can't she lie fo' me?
I wait but she don't even respond, she jus' keep starin' out the sky. Maybe she done lyin'. Or maybe it too hard a lie to even say- I dunno. Sometime it can be that, it jus' so ain't true that it hard to tell some one.
I hate to think that my mother that bad. Cecile can't even lie 'bout 'er no mo'. So I don't- think it that is. She jus' don't wanna talk cause she tired, an' don't wanna get too emotional.
"I mean- you don't gotta answer me." I kno' what I say, but I real hope she don't listen to me. I real hope she tell me wha' I want. Even if she is too emotional.
"No, Corinne," she pause, both 'er voice an' legs. She grab my hand an' pull me to look at 'er, sighin' louder than I even hear 'er befo'. "Corinne- I was jus' pausin' 'cause I-I do miss 'er- that all."
She turn 'round, an' continue walkin' back toward the manor. "She was sweet to me, like you are. She didn't treat me so bad. She didn't treat no body."
Her voice rise a bit, like maybe she on the edge of cryin'. Or maybe somethin' else.
"Thank you," I tell 'er as we stop again, leanin' on 'er shoulder. At that moment I wish that she white again, so I wouldn't feel so wron' dependin' on 'er so much. Cause I don't wanna go back in that manor with them white folk who are so wron' an' mean an' fake.
"Oh, chil'- don't thank me." She pat my hair, an' I sigh into 'er. Oh, why ain't you white? "Please I don't deserve to be thaked."
She start walkin', an' pullin' me toward them- toward them people whom I left this mornin'. I don' wanna go back- I wanna stay out 'ere an' talk to 'er. Have ;er tell me stories, like she did when I was a chil' to escape.
"Aren't we's gonna stay out here?" I desperate- she can 'ear it in my voice. She cans see it in my eyes.
She let go of my han'. "You's can- if you wanna."
"Why you gotta go?"
"I got my chores," she say, lookin' down. "I been neglectin' 'em some time in this mornin'."
