"Corinne, you okay?" Daddy asks, reachin' out 'is hand fo' me to touch. The room very dark, only two flickerin' candles in the left and righ' corner. I can barley make out daddy's shape, only the shadow of 'is nose and lips, the deep holes were 'is eyes should be. I wanna backlash an' tell 'em that no, I ain't alrigh'. An' that he shouldn't jus' be carin' 'bout me- Mary 'is daughter too. But I don't do that, cause I ain't in the mood fo' fightin'. Not now at least.
"I'm fine daddy, thank you."
Mary jumps in, "How you an' the Misses?"
Daddy jus' grunts a response, the Mistress not sayin' nothin' at all. The room is drenched in a silence, sticky an' sweat all at the same time. Daddy 'is worried bout 'is profit, Mary 'bout Miss. Lizabeth, the Mistress 'bout herself an' me 'bout Cecile. All our worries keep our mouths zipped closed. We can't even turn ta each other in comfort.
Mary squeezes my hand, an unspoken word of sorrow. I squeeze back, lettin' 'er kno' I here, then we both walk a few paces from daddy an' sit on the real hard ground. All we can do 'is wait and pray to God. I dunno how many prayers I've sent up ta 'em, how many promises I've given, but it don't matter. He no where to be found.
"You think their in yet?" Mary asks. I don't have to see to tell that she still cryin'. She love Miss. Lizabeth real good an' she don't wanna see 'er die. I don't really, neither.
"I doubt it," I whisper, my own voice in tears, "I think we could hear 'em if they was."
"You're right."
We break off into silence again, me sendin' up anotha prayer to the Mighty Lord. Oh how I wish I had the Holy Book righ' now in my hands, so I could read to 'em. Let 'em kno' how much I care. Anotha fierce an' evil thunder comes, an' I figure that that God's message, answerin' my prayers. He don't wanna save no slave, 'specially not two.
I bury my face inta my hands, wantin' to scream so loudly as to drown out my thoughts. They do gotta be okay, they jus' gotta. I don't kno' how I gonna live without my Cecile, an' how she gonna live without 'er Samuel? I kno' it bad to be attached to two slaves like I am, I kno' that maybe God is punishin' me now cause of how I love Cecile so, but I also kno' that it jus' ain't fair. None of it. They should be safe inside, sittin' in Mary's room or better yet in the Cellar with us. They shouldn't be out there- facin' God's wrath on my soul.
"I'm fine daddy, thank you."
Mary jumps in, "How you an' the Misses?"
Daddy jus' grunts a response, the Mistress not sayin' nothin' at all. The room is drenched in a silence, sticky an' sweat all at the same time. Daddy 'is worried bout 'is profit, Mary 'bout Miss. Lizabeth, the Mistress 'bout herself an' me 'bout Cecile. All our worries keep our mouths zipped closed. We can't even turn ta each other in comfort.
Mary squeezes my hand, an unspoken word of sorrow. I squeeze back, lettin' 'er kno' I here, then we both walk a few paces from daddy an' sit on the real hard ground. All we can do 'is wait and pray to God. I dunno how many prayers I've sent up ta 'em, how many promises I've given, but it don't matter. He no where to be found.
"You think their in yet?" Mary asks. I don't have to see to tell that she still cryin'. She love Miss. Lizabeth real good an' she don't wanna see 'er die. I don't really, neither.
"I doubt it," I whisper, my own voice in tears, "I think we could hear 'em if they was."
"You're right."
We break off into silence again, me sendin' up anotha prayer to the Mighty Lord. Oh how I wish I had the Holy Book righ' now in my hands, so I could read to 'em. Let 'em kno' how much I care. Anotha fierce an' evil thunder comes, an' I figure that that God's message, answerin' my prayers. He don't wanna save no slave, 'specially not two.
I bury my face inta my hands, wantin' to scream so loudly as to drown out my thoughts. They do gotta be okay, they jus' gotta. I don't kno' how I gonna live without my Cecile, an' how she gonna live without 'er Samuel? I kno' it bad to be attached to two slaves like I am, I kno' that maybe God is punishin' me now cause of how I love Cecile so, but I also kno' that it jus' ain't fair. None of it. They should be safe inside, sittin' in Mary's room or better yet in the Cellar with us. They shouldn't be out there- facin' God's wrath on my soul.
