5 years earlier:
I don't like eavesdropping. But sometimes I do it anyways. Miss. Lizabeth don't know nothing and I can't ask daddy outright. I shouldn't let the dirty speak of the north mess with my thoughts. That's what he told me when I asked once, the second time he stung my behind with a board. I knew not to ask no more.
My knees begin to ache, struggling to stay in the position I've been in fo' the past hour. Daddy and his friend, Mr.Smith don't talk 'bout nothing interesting, but I stay no matter. I'm 19 now and daddy thinks I need to find a man. I wait for his name. But all I hear is 'bout President Polk and some war. It's all rather dull.
"Corinne?"
I freeze, tryin' to keep any breath of air inside my mouth. If Miss.Lizabeth finds me and tells daddy I'll be worse off than before. I might have to move away sooner.
"Corinne?"
She calls my name again, closer to the wall where I hide. I squeeze my eyes closed, for no reason other than makin' me feel better, and pray. I know you ain't supposed to pray for selfish reasons, but I know daddy prays for his safety sometimes too. I figure, 'long as pay extra attention in church tomorrow, I'll be fine.
I hear her voice travel further off and I mutter my thanks to The Lord beneath my breath. I promise to sing extra loud fo' him tomorrow.
When I can't hear Miss.Lizabeth no more, I decide now is a good a time as any to jus' leave. I 'ain't bein' a good daughter now, listening in on my daddy, and I should leave before I make a mess outta things. I'm about to, when I hear the first interesting thing all day.
"You got a new slave this mornin'?" Mr.Smith asks, a puff of smoke leavin' his nostrils.
I send another quick prayer to God, that I won't have to marry this man with gray hair and a voice deeper than the Mississippi. I follow it up with a bigger promise to stay awake the whole service.
I lean forward, nervous to hear daddy's answer. One more slave and that'd make fifty, almost as much as Mr. Burlock. I hope it's a man, strong enough to take David's place. He got tuberculosis last week and may die soon. We need someone to man the cotton, the rest ain't fast enough.
My daddy lets out a sigh, his own puff of smoke leaving his mouth, "Yeah, but he was jus' a favor to Granger, he ain't gonna help too much."
I don't like eavesdropping. But sometimes I do it anyways. Miss. Lizabeth don't know nothing and I can't ask daddy outright. I shouldn't let the dirty speak of the north mess with my thoughts. That's what he told me when I asked once, the second time he stung my behind with a board. I knew not to ask no more.
My knees begin to ache, struggling to stay in the position I've been in fo' the past hour. Daddy and his friend, Mr.Smith don't talk 'bout nothing interesting, but I stay no matter. I'm 19 now and daddy thinks I need to find a man. I wait for his name. But all I hear is 'bout President Polk and some war. It's all rather dull.
"Corinne?"
I freeze, tryin' to keep any breath of air inside my mouth. If Miss.Lizabeth finds me and tells daddy I'll be worse off than before. I might have to move away sooner.
"Corinne?"
She calls my name again, closer to the wall where I hide. I squeeze my eyes closed, for no reason other than makin' me feel better, and pray. I know you ain't supposed to pray for selfish reasons, but I know daddy prays for his safety sometimes too. I figure, 'long as pay extra attention in church tomorrow, I'll be fine.
I hear her voice travel further off and I mutter my thanks to The Lord beneath my breath. I promise to sing extra loud fo' him tomorrow.
When I can't hear Miss.Lizabeth no more, I decide now is a good a time as any to jus' leave. I 'ain't bein' a good daughter now, listening in on my daddy, and I should leave before I make a mess outta things. I'm about to, when I hear the first interesting thing all day.
"You got a new slave this mornin'?" Mr.Smith asks, a puff of smoke leavin' his nostrils.
I send another quick prayer to God, that I won't have to marry this man with gray hair and a voice deeper than the Mississippi. I follow it up with a bigger promise to stay awake the whole service.
I lean forward, nervous to hear daddy's answer. One more slave and that'd make fifty, almost as much as Mr. Burlock. I hope it's a man, strong enough to take David's place. He got tuberculosis last week and may die soon. We need someone to man the cotton, the rest ain't fast enough.
My daddy lets out a sigh, his own puff of smoke leaving his mouth, "Yeah, but he was jus' a favor to Granger, he ain't gonna help too much."
