Mind Of A Slave

Secrets

5.

WE SIT ON the bank of a pond, under a gnarled oak tree, shaded from the scorching sun by the widespread net of leaves above us. Julia passes peanuts around and I finally decide to raise the question that has been eating at my conscience, the question that I know I need to ask.

"Why are we here?" I ask. "Why are we allowed t'be here?"

I catch the nervous glance exchanged between them.

"We ain't," Amos says bluntly. "Sorry. Of course you're confused." He shoots Julia a questioning look and she says, "Just tell her."

"Firstly, we gotta never be found out. No-body but us know bout...this," he says seriously. "Now listen carefully. I'm sure you noticed Master Ramier is different. That's what they say. He's kinder than them other masters, right? On other plantations, we wouldn't be allowed t'be round Master's children 'less it be part a the job, right? We ain't really supposed t'be doin' it here, too, so we gotta be real careful, so's not to get caught. Sometime he bring guests to his home, and we ain't gone let em find out 'bout nothing cause they tell him, or they tell Julia's Mama."

"When I first come to the planation, I didn't realise that some a them white folks is different, like Julia's family is diffferent. Julia don't believe in cruelty towards us slaves, and I don't think neither does Master Ramier believe in nothin' like that. But he ain't gone say. None of em can say. Or it put the whole family in danger, an' us slaves. You gotta promise that you ain't gone ever let this secret out. It gone hurt you, as well as Julia, if you does."

"Promise," I say.

"Thanks," says Julia. She looks out into the distance and the pale coloring in her eyes seems very faded and far away. I understand, because I worry, too. I worry every day. I worry every time I feel angry or whenever Mama is stressed. My life scares me. Living frightens me.

I look at Amos, trying to pick out any sign of anxiety or fear from his expression. His chin is raised and his jaw line solid. He must know how serious this is, how courageous he has to be, but is untroubled by the fact that just saying those kinds of things out loud could cost him his life.

"So why Chesny Alexina?" he says suddenly.

I swallow half a peanut. "What?"

"You told me you likes the name," he says.

"Oh yeah," I say, "I do."

"Is it a relative's name?" asks Julia.

"No," I say, "I just likes it. I thinks it's beautiful. There ain't no other reason."

"If I could choose my own name..." Amos says thoughtfully as he crunches on a mouthful of nuts, "I thinks I'd like to be called Ammar. It sounds strong, powerful. No. Let's make mine outta two, like your's. How about Ammar Patrick?"

"You two are so funny," Julia says, and something about the way she says "you two" makes my cheeks tingle, like she's linking Amos to me, condescendingly, like no matter how hard we try bridge the gap, there will always be a small separation between us and her. And I'm not the only one to notice. Out of the corner of my eye, I take in the blinking of his eyes and the subtle bow of his head. "I would be called Rose if I could choose. Nothing confusing or complicated. It was my Grandmother's name."

"My Grandfather was name Ammar," Amos tells us, "If I was name Ammar, I knows he'd like that."

Julia smiles pityingly and for a moment no-body speaks. No-one has anything to say. I, too, have experienced dreadful things but I don't want to talk about them because I don't want to cry and I don't want to have to remember.

Amos walks with me back to the cabins when the sun sets, casting a blue and pink light across the sky.

It is a hot evening and I lie on my back in bed, listening to Mama's heavy breathing. I have left the window ajar but it creaks so loudly when the winds blows that I decide to get up and shut it.

The door of the cabin opens and Beckey arrives and sits on the end of my bed. It sags under her great weight and I try to suppress a laugh, unsuccessfully.

"Hey, hey, don't laugh at me," she says, re-locating herself on the small wooden chair.

Mama sits on the edge of her mattress.

"Well?" she says.

Beckey parks her large hands on her even larger hips and looks at both of us in turn. "Tomorrow's a big day," she announces, "We're doin' a round."

"What's that?" I ask.

"A round," she says, "is a trip to town. We go every couple a months and it's a very important day. You gotta do exactly what I tells you, all the time."

"Sure," I say, "Beckey, I can't wait!"

"No," she says, "I don't thinks you understan'. Lots a us'll go. There gone be hundreds a people there. Masters an' slaves. We gotta not cause no suspicions, alright?"

"I un'erstan's," I say.

Beckey shakes her head.

"I come wake you t'morrow," she says. I study her nervous expression, but somehow I don't feel her anxiety. She turns to leave but stops at the door. "Cass, yous ever been to town 'fore?" she asks.

"Couple a times," I say. "With Master Walter."

"An' what's it like?"

I frown, recalling the day I walked for miles and miles and tripped and fell and was almost trampled and I remember all the yelling and the business and the noise and the dirt. "It ain't fun."

"Well," says May, "Tomorrow's ain't gone be no differen'."

"Yes, 'tis." I say, "Master Ramier is...different t'other Masters, right?"

May turns her back to me, and I suppose she is staring out over the fields.

"Sometime," she says.

I lie down slowly. I am only relieved to have a change.

I dream that I am running through the streets in beautiful boots with my blond hair flying out behind me and money jangling in my pocket.

And Amos' secret settles behind my lips to fall asleep with me.