Separation

Theme/title: Seperation

Words: 826

I walk in ta the girl’s room, sheets in my hands an’ frizzy hair back in a bun. Really, I should call the girl Mistress or somethin’  in my head, but I ain’t never seen her so she ain’t much of a mistress. After all, she just the Master’s daughter an’ she gettin’ married soon so we ain’t need ta worry too much her as she’s always with  her beau someplace else. Reckon I’d get whooped somethin’ nasty though if I said that in front of Cook though. Cook is a right bitch the way she treats the girls who ain’t git paid like her. Thinks she’s some kinda queen or some angel that knows better than the rest of us all.

 Lawd, why did ya make people like her? We’d all be much happier without her gripin’ all tha time. I know we supposed ta turn the other cheek an’ all, but it’s damn hard. It ain’t fair ta make us suffer in our own quarters. We git enough of that when we out workin’.

I strip the bed. Quick an’ easy, ‘cause I done this so many times before. My hands find a book under the sheets. This ain’t no surprise, as it’s always here. Figure it’s the girl’s diary or somethin’ secret like that. Don’t think she realises what a stupid place it is ta put it. I mean, what does she do at night under all them pretty down covers? Sleep on it? Seems like the rest of her beddin’ is kinda useless if she’s gonna put some great lump of a book under her.

It’s when I’m puzzlin’ over that, when some white girl bursts in, slammin’ the door behind her. Somethin’ in slammin’ that door calms her for a moment, so I haven’t quite understood what’s goin’ except for that’s she’s in the middle of feelin’ somethin’ big. Anger, sadness, fear, I don’t know.

Then she notices me. Her mouth opens, as if she wasn’t expectin’ that somebody actually has ta make her bed. I stare at her, as if she’s in the way of me doin’ my job. She ain’t really, but most don’t like ta think about the maids so it’s nice ta have an excuse ta do somethin’ like this.

The girl understands quicker than I woulda thought an’ she starts ta apologise. But then her eyes land on the book I’m holdin’ an’ she shuts up real quick. Shit. Imma get in trouble now. This is probably her room an’ her book. She probably the daughter of the Master. The girl’s makin’ this face now, as if she can’t quite decide if she should be mortified, scandalised or furious that I got her book in my hands. An’ there’s somethin’ else as well, as if she’s just goin’ through motions, as if there’s somethin’ bigger that’s botherin’ her.

“I makin’ the bed, Miss.” I say, puttin’ the book down the dresser real quick, like she caught me doin’ somethin’ bad. Which she didn’t, but I’m startin’ ta feel real uncomfortable. Judgin’ by her face, the white girl is too. Too much that’s unsaid is flowin’ through us.

“Oh yes. Continue on then. Don’t mind me then.” She manages ta get out, not movin’ from her place just inside the door. She don’t know where ta look now, as it ain’t proper for someone like her ta look at a maid directly. ‘Breeds unwanted familiarity’ as Master would put it.

I scrutinise her in those moments, an’ her eyes met mine for just a moment before they flick away. I realise they’re red, an’ wet. She came in here ta cry then. I know she said ta do my job, but I’m just starin’ at her now wonderin’ what’s goin’ on.

“Get on with it girl. Need I ask twice?” There’s nasty tone in her voice now, an’ I know that if I don’t get out soon she’s goin’ ta take out whatever is happenin’ ta her on me. She wants out, she wants somethin’ ta transfer her pain onta, so she can stop feelin’ for a moment.

“Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss.” I mutter, just wantin’ ta get out of here now. I duck my head, an’ start spreadin’ the sheets. She collapses herself on her chair an’ hides her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake, an’ I know she’s cryin’ now, lettin’ it all out. I say nothin’, pretend I ain’t noticin’ what goin’ on.

Once I’ve plumped the cushions, laid the blankets an’ rearranged the flowers on her bedside table, I make a hasty exit. She’s still on her chair when I step out inta the hallway, an’ I don’t think she realises I’ve gone.

 At the same time I leave the room, the front door clicks shut. A tailored suit retreats in the window an' a ring lies on the door mat an’ I can tell then that I ain’t the only one ta have left the girl on her own.