The African trinkets

Oh, this love is unrequieted

Nolia walked with a conscious stride to the boutique; making sure not to get in anyone’s way. She dodged and dived out of the white men and woman whose fists clutched their walking canes and purses when she passed them. She tried to ignore the whispers, stares and even the people who held their noses when she walked. It wasn’t hard to do because the morning was so chilly that she didn’t even have the capacity to concentrate on anything besides her journey’s purpose and the low temperature. The boutique that Victoria had forced her to walk to was a short journey by carriage no more than thirty minutes but by foot the several kilometers meant that she would take about an hour to get there and then another hour to get back. This would’ve been insignificant to her if the churning grey clods in the sky didn’t grumble their promises of rain.

Despite her best efforts to beat the rain the heaven opened and poured down on her. Nolia practically slid to the boutique and tapped on the back door intended for slave servants. The rain acted as a curtain and the owner took her sweet time to open the door because she couldn’t make out Nolia’s face, “Good morning, I’m a servant of the Tate family.” She tried to say but the rain gargled her words. The owner walked away from the glass door and the black servant manager opened the door but did not allow Nolia relief from the rain even though she was soaked to the bone.

“Yes?” The short, round oil haired man asked. He was smartly and warmly dressed and cruelly ignored Nolia’s violent shivering, “Was it that you want!” He grew impatient but Nolia couldn’t help her slowed speech because it was so cold.

“My name is Magnolia and I-” She was interrupted.

“I do not care who you are. To whom do you belong and what have you come to collect?” He barked.

“I have come to collect a pair of gloves for a miss Tate, Victoria.” Nolia tried to equalize her tone to that of the horrible man.

“Show me your work permit.” He put on his small glasses that magnified his already big eyes. Nolia didn’t want to speak to him anymore and she carefully took her moist work permit from her pocket and hoped that the ink hadn’t bleed all over the page to form an ink smudge. He eyed it for several moments all the while the rain grew more relentless and pummeled her head, “Wait here.”

He left the door open and went into the shop to retrieve miss Victoria’s purchase. From where Nolia stood she could see the inside of the boutique; she could see that it was relatively full but not with customers just people ducking for cover from the rain. Of the milling people she recognized two of Lance’s friends Phillip and Marcus chatting with two women.  

She admired in which the way white people socialized amongst themselves; such civility and grace. Men bowing and kissing hands while women always smile and courtesy; it always seemed picture perfect to her but her admiring was cut short when Marcus’ eyes made contact with hers and she found that she couldn’t look away even if rain droplets flooded her intrusive eyes. Marcus frowned and started to walk toward the back door; Nolia turned around assuming that he was annoyed by her staring, came to close the door. She waited for the sound of the slamming door that never came instead it was a deep, gentle voice, “Hello.”

Nolia was surprised but she quickly composed herself, she curtseyed, “Good morning master Marcus.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but it’s raining.” Marcus smiled and his dark hair and eyes set off the whiteness of his smile. Nolia giggled and wiped her wet brow and blinked pretending not to be bothered by the rain, “Come inside before you catch your death.” Marcus extended his hand for her to take it.

“Oh, no, I don’t think I’m allowed to be inside. It might offend the boutique owner if I just barged in. I’m perfectly fine out her and besides I won’t be staying very long.” Nolia tried to refuse.