IN THE BED OF A STRANGER

1932

In the Bed of a Stranger

     There I was lying in my bed just expecting the worst and wishing that the sun wouldn't rise. Oh yes, introductions I'm sorry, my name was Wilhamina Johnson, and at the beginning of this story I had just turn 14 years old. Times were different then. It was the year 1853 and my world was just a fraction of what it is today. I am 93 years old now and I forget a lot about my life but I can never shake away those years, for they changed my life completely. I remember those days so clearly, like it was yesterday. I was mad at my parents Lois and Fred for they had given my hand in marriage to a man I didn't even know. I was still very much a child and boys still had cooties to me; well except Thomas Price, my dear friend and cousin. I couldn't comprehend why they would give me away to some stranger simply because he was giving my dad a lot of cows. I always thought I was more important than cows but I guess I wasn't. My father owned a small farm but he had dreams of one day having a big business. My mother was also sad for me but she didn't have a say in the matter, for women in my family had to shut up when the men were talking. My mother was trying to be strong for me but I could hear her cry and plead to my father. I could hear my father hit my mom from any room in the house, he was a very abusive man and if I didn't like him before, I did much less after he told me I was to be married to Mr. Theodore Witten, a plantation owner and one of the "Sugar Kings" of the area. He swore to me that he did it out of the immense love he had for me, but I didn't buy it. I asked him to wait until I was a woman but he slapped me and told me I was already one and a very disrespectful child. It was typical of my dad to call me a child and a woman in the same sentence, he used whichever fit his selfish purposes. I just stayed planted there, quietly rubbing my face because that man could hit pretty hard. I had much worse beatings after I left his house but for now I had no frame of comparison. That night, the night before Mr. Witten was coming for me, my mother entered my room with something in her hand and eyes full of tears. She cradled me in her arms and rubbed my head like she used to do when I was younger. I can still hear her words. "My sweet baby I would take your place in a second if I could." That night my mother explained to me what she knew about sexual intercourse and she introduced me to opium. I know it sounds bad but believe me it became my friend for many years. Now the only opium in my blood is from poppy seeds. I was very attentive to my mother's instructions that night. She said that this man would have the right to touch me in my private parts and do with my body what he pleased; that I just needed to breathe and try to relax my muscles. "Try to think of something beautiful," she told me. She thought of the waves in the ocean, her favorite place in the whole wide world. I decided to think of her arms, where I always felt safe. "It will hurt some but I'll give you a medicine to feel better." My mother handed me a little glass flask with opium inside or as she called it medicine. She told me to keep it secret because it was illegal but it would take my pain away and make me able to not feel anything. She was very specific in telling me how to measure the dosage with the flask cap so I wouldn't overdose. Anybody now could look at my mother that night and judge her as evil but I know better, I knew she did it out of pure love and I thank her for it every day. She told me to respect Mr. Witten and try not to speak at all unless asked a question and even then keep my answers short and passive. She had heard of Mr. Witten's temper and it was rumored that he beat his previous wife to death. My mother tried to tell that to my dad but he called it malicious slander. That night I figured that my dad was feeling guilty because he spent the night drinking, and permitted my mom to sleep with me. Is hard for me not to cry even now when I remember how my dear mother held me so tight in her arms. I can still hear her sweet voice singing lullabies to calm my nerves. I also remember praying all night so the good Lord would take me away from the world, but that didn't happen.

     When daylight came, my mother helped me pack my one small suitcase and then she gave me another one of her saving tips; cooking grease. She told me to put it on every night just in case Mr. Witten wanted me to fulfill my wifely duties. I listened to every single word my mom said and recorded them in my head. I remember her telling me that she would go visit me even if my father beat her every day, and bless her heart she did visit me often. I remember getting all dressed up nicely with a new dress, my father had bought for me, and new shiny shoes. I was sitting on the front porch with mother when I saw a big fancy coach approaching. I had never seen a carriage like that; it was very impressive. I also saw many cows being delivered to my father's pen as well as two slaves. I remember thinking that was what my life was worth, a dozen cows. My father came out to receive Mr. Witten and made the transaction. Mr. Witten came out of the carriage and for the first time I saw the man who was to be my husband. Mr. Witten was a light colored man with grayish hair and very dark blue eyes. His face was covered with a thick beard and mustache. He was about 50 years old back then and for me that was very old, after all my own father was just 42 years old. Mr. Witten was a very tall and heavy man. He looked frightening and not very nice. He came up the porch stairs and shook my father's hand. My father called me to his side and my mom helped me up but not before hugging me and giving me a kiss on the head. She couldn't hold back her tears so she ran inside the house. I remember my father apologizing for her actions and calling her "This damn woman." I hated my dad for many things and that was one of them. I still remember how Mr. Witten inspected my teeth like you do a horse and asked my dad if I was clean or had many lice. It was humiliating for me, so when he finished his perusal I lowered my head. We only ever had one slave, Jim, and he helped my father in the farm so I rarely ever saw him. Now looking back at that day I can see he was inspecting me just as he would a slave. At last my father handed me over to him and he just waved. The last words I heard from him weren't even directed at me, "Thank you very much Mr. Witten and don't worry she'll give you no trouble." I remember sitting in the carriage with my head lowered and my legs close together, tightly in my pocket I was holding on to my little glass flask. All the way to the courthouse Mr. Witten kept looking at me and I was feeling very scared. I wanted to go home and play with my dolls but that wasn't about to happen. In the courthouse Mr. Witten made me sign the marriage papers but I didn't know how to write so I wrote an x where the clerk pointed. And that was it; I was now Mrs. Wilhamina Witten.