What do make me feel some better is that Lloyd don' seem to be much interested in Mary, neither. I the one now who's walkin' few steps behind 'em, an' while Mary talkin' the world off, 'bout me at first an' now other things, Lloyd don't seem interested at all. In fact- he seem quite the opposite, which make Mary all flushed, an' flustered- spittin' out every possible word jus' to try an' get 'em to talk. An' while it may make 'er feel all upset an' frustrated, it make me feel like I got the whole wide world. Cause now I kno'.
It ain't me that Lloyd don' like- it ain't even Mary. He'd like us fine- if sompin' hadn't happened 'fore he got here. Maybe he lost the lady he love to death, or maybe sompin' else. I dunno, but it don't matter none. Cause that mean- if it come down to it, Lloyd'll marry me. 'Course if I can get outta it- without landin' in the claws of that rotten Mista Smith- then I'll do that. But righ' now- that lookin' less an' less possible.
"Don' you like the sun Lloyd?" I hear Mary ask, sayin' sompin' that don't even make real sense. Who don' like the sun?
"Yeah." Is his response. He like one-words, he only use 'em- less he talkin' to daddy. An' even then they jus' short sentences, max a like five words or so.
"So Lloyd," I but in, knowin' that now I can tease 'em freely. He ain't gonna leave, so I don' gotta worry 'bout walkin' on that fine line. "How 'bout grass, you like that too? Or mud- the way it feel in-between yous toes?"
"I do."
Two words. I better than Mary- he like me mo'. I look over to my sister- tryin' to tell 'er bout my game through my eyes. We don't normally talk between jus' ours minds, we can't, but today she can see. An' to my great surprise- she wanna play lon' too.
"So Lloyd- tell me 'bout yous home life. Got many slaves?"
"A little."
Two words. It a tie. I glance to Lloyd quick- makin' sure that he ain't catchin' on. He ain't- jus' starin' off inta the field, payin' us no attention. I doubt he even kno' what we ask 'em. He jus' answer with one word or two, an' keep on starin', rememberin' sompin'.
"How many you got Lloyd?"
"You gonna inherit you daddy's plantation?"
"You actually wanna get married to my sister?"
"How old you are exactly?"
It ain't me that Lloyd don' like- it ain't even Mary. He'd like us fine- if sompin' hadn't happened 'fore he got here. Maybe he lost the lady he love to death, or maybe sompin' else. I dunno, but it don't matter none. Cause that mean- if it come down to it, Lloyd'll marry me. 'Course if I can get outta it- without landin' in the claws of that rotten Mista Smith- then I'll do that. But righ' now- that lookin' less an' less possible.
"Don' you like the sun Lloyd?" I hear Mary ask, sayin' sompin' that don't even make real sense. Who don' like the sun?
"Yeah." Is his response. He like one-words, he only use 'em- less he talkin' to daddy. An' even then they jus' short sentences, max a like five words or so.
"So Lloyd," I but in, knowin' that now I can tease 'em freely. He ain't gonna leave, so I don' gotta worry 'bout walkin' on that fine line. "How 'bout grass, you like that too? Or mud- the way it feel in-between yous toes?"
"I do."
Two words. I better than Mary- he like me mo'. I look over to my sister- tryin' to tell 'er bout my game through my eyes. We don't normally talk between jus' ours minds, we can't, but today she can see. An' to my great surprise- she wanna play lon' too.
"So Lloyd- tell me 'bout yous home life. Got many slaves?"
"A little."
Two words. It a tie. I glance to Lloyd quick- makin' sure that he ain't catchin' on. He ain't- jus' starin' off inta the field, payin' us no attention. I doubt he even kno' what we ask 'em. He jus' answer with one word or two, an' keep on starin', rememberin' sompin'.
"How many you got Lloyd?"
"You gonna inherit you daddy's plantation?"
"You actually wanna get married to my sister?"
"How old you are exactly?"
