Love, Emily.

22nd May 1958,

Dear Papa, 

Sorry I haven't wrote to you in so long. I've been real busy tryin' to find work for me n' Mamma. She's also been tryin' to find you somethin' closer to home. Whatever our home is now. Mamma got me a job workin' with a wealthy white family down in the South of Boston. The Normans. They got two kids and no idea of how to take care of em'. Seems like they just have children for the glory around here. Like they got some kinda clock that ticks if they're not married and pregnant by the time they're 19. They don't seem to understand the value of family. The joy and sense of achievement that comes from makin' a baby and bringin' a person into this world. Holdin' a baby in your arms and feelin' nothin' but love. Treasurin' every moment that you have to look in their eyes. I'm only a younger and I already understand that.

My new Boss is named Sabrina. She married George when she was only 17. They seem happy but you never no what goes on behind closed doors. They got two diddy children, Jack and Darcy. Darcy was born six months ago. Wails like a street cat. Sabrina always calls me when she yells. She's too "tired" to see to her own cryin' baby. I think she scared of the girl. Scared of droppin' her on her tiny head. Scared too squeeze her too tight. Scared to feel hate towards the girl who's keeping her from her soft pillows and thriving social life. Well, the only person she be keeping awake is me. Me. The one who feeds her, bathes her, nurtures her when she stirs in the night. Me. The negro that doesn't even deserve the right to use her silver but, can sure as hell do whatever her and her husband tells me to do.  

Mamma's doin' well. I think. She doesn't really talk much since you left. She seems absent from her life, sorta drifts through the day. Not doin' or sayin' much. Just doin' what she has to do to get by.  The Durringtons had to "let her go" last Tuesday. Well, that's what they say around the neighbourhood. I say they're arrogant bastards who fired a poor, innocent woman for caring for their children a lil' too much. They announced that she "stole the silver". If my mamma was a thief then she would'a stole more than the damn silver. Mamma said that one night, the baby she cared for named Ditsy stirred in her sleep. Yelled the house down, she said. Then finally, the mumma threw herself outta her bed and held her baby and tried to comfort her. Still after a good 30 minutes the baby still wept. The Mother swung the poor girl frantically from one side to the other in attempt to "comfort" her. Her tears hittin' the babes plump, crimson cheeks as she whimpers away. Her words stutterin' as she pleads for Mamma's help. Mamma said, the girl almost slipped through her fingers before she passed her over. The baby stopped crying after a couple of hugs and kisses from Mamma. The Mother watched as a negro took care of her child better than she could. As a negro grew a better bond with her baby than she could. As a negro could do one thing better than she could. She didn't steal the silver but, she stole the woman's dignity. 

I'll write to ya soon Papa, 

Love, Emily. 

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                         Hope you enjoy this first chapter. To be continued....

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27th May 1958,

Dear Papa, 

Something odd happened at the Norman's house today. I was cleanin' lil Darcy's diaper, makin' sure she were clean and happy when, Sabrina started yellin' in my ear.

"EMILY! DID YOU MAKE HIS BED YET?" She hollered. My head started swirlin'. She never told me to make a bed? Who is this 'He' she were speakin' of? Was I not listenin' to her when she mentioned it? My hands started to sweat like I was in front of a jury for a crime or summin'. Sabrina would be so angry if she knew I weren't listenin'. She'd call me a "dirty nigger" or say "don't niggers have capable ears?" or somethin'. I know I should be used to the insults by now but, each one still hits a place inside me that I dint' know existed. A place of pure anger and hate that just makes me wanna scream out. I know you must have that place in ya Papa. People treated you worst than they treat me. Anyways, after a few minutes she came and saw me in Darcy's room. I didn't move. I just stood like i was made outta stone. She glared at me with her burning blue eyes. Her fair skin crinklin' at her brow as, her silky blonde hair swept across it like a pair of open curtains. She raised her hand. My eyes shut tight. My body clenched, awaitin' the pain. After a few seconds, I opened my eyes slightly when I realized that she hadn't hit me yet. She stared at me. Confused of why my body was clenched so tight. She chuckled to herself at my fear. Like it was funny that I was scared of her. 

"Evil lil' bitch" I said to myself. I woulda never said it aloud of course. You know what would happen if I did that, don't ya Papa? She paced over to the window on the far side of the room. Still holdin' her gaze.    Part of me wanted her to fall flat on her face but, the other part just wanted her to stop starin' and just tell me what I did wrong. She stopped at the window and slowly turned her head to gaze outside. My body shrugged with relief. 

"So, did you make the damn bed or not?" she asked firmly, still starin' out the window. 

"Urm-" I muttered.

"Urm? Can you not speak, Nigger? she interrupted. Her voice was harsh. An anger inside me started to rise. 

"Sorry. I did not make the bed. I am very sorry." I stuttered, trying to keep the anger down. 

"Well, Lucas will be here soon. His bed needs to be made." Her voice was more calm but still, every word made me angrier. I nodded. "Go then. I do not want to have this conversation again." she said, but, this time she glared at me again. Tryin' to show her authority over me. I know she's in charge but, if I weren't a negro gurl, I woulda punched her by now. 

Before she could say anything else, I marched to the guest bedroom. See, these people have houses big enough for more than just their family to live in. Where as, we're lucky if we can even get a one bedroom house. I got the cozy blankets outta the cupboard and threw them onto the bed. The temptation just to jump in it and sleep was almost overwhelmin'. The thought still runs through my head as I lay in my own lumpy; distressed bed. Imagine it Papa! Layin' on a flood of soft; feathery cushions. Sinkin' into a bed of pure luxury. Like layin' on a cloud or somethin'. Drifting off to sleep, feelin' nothing but, love and happiness. Rather than falling asleep feelin' nothing but scared and uncomfortable.

When, I had made the bed and cleaned the room, I awaited the arrival of Lucas. I did the usual chores around the house, washin' the dishes, playin' with Darcy and Jack. Then at 14:30, he finally arrived. Turns out, he's actually Sabrina's baby brother. He went away on business to Germany. Sellin' automobiles or somethin'. Sabrina called me down to come meet him when he arrived. As i walked into the hallway, he turned to greet me. I paced towards him, nerves filling me. I don't know why but, it's always scaring meetin' new white folk. You never know whether they're an angel or a devil. If they're an angel, you rarely have to fear them. But, if they're a devil. Well, they gonna haunt you for the rest of your days. As i got closer to Lucas, a smile stretched across his face. His teeth were a pearlescent white, his stunning blue eyes gazed at me. His fair-skinned hands brushed through his short; glossy blonde hair. I positioned myself next to Sabrina and Lucas. I stood there awkwardly, like a lost puppy searchin' for somethin'. I curtsied to Lucas. He smiled again. Then, he held his hand out to me. I stared at it like it was a gun or a flame. Like it was somethin' so unusual. 

"You're suppose to shake it," He chuckled. My brain began to wonder. I aint' ever shook a white man's hand before. Never in my life. I raised my hand, wiping it on my apron on the way. He grabbed my hand and smiled. I smiled back. His skin was soft. As soft as the blankets on his bed. Like i was holdin' pieces of cotton in my rough; scaly hands. I didn't want to let go Papa. This boy sure was an angel. 

Love, Emily. 

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