American Poet.

- 8 -

•

Every day we were reminded that their big day was approaching us.

Mike was still in the process of healing, yet they had him working anyway and would even throw threats his way if he displayed any signs of stopping.

I warned him never to do something so idiotic again especially not for me.

On the flip side, Curtis never looked my way again. It was like I was now invisible to him. But that didn't stop him from being hateful to others around him except Olivia.

She never saw him as anything but a big mouth slave boy as she explained to us repeatedly in the kitchen. He wasn't Jack who I'm guessing was her one true love because the day that man visited the plantation she got all dolled up for him.

Unlike the rest of the slaves whose mouth would rotten or yellow due to lack of dental care. Olivia somehow always had nice pearly teeth that she put on full display the day Jack Creer visited to discuss his sister's wedding arrangements.

She wore a beautiful pink gown and her curly hair was left braided into a sophisticated updo.

When their buggy finally did drive up.

A younger White woman was the first to get out as Jack held her hand while they went inside the big house. Olivia's hazel eyes followed the couple as they vanished inside.

Queenie and I went over to the window to listen in on their conversation.

Jack introduced the woman—Mary as his wife. 

Mary was a tall, thin woman as pale as wintertime. She wore a silken blue gown that contrasted with her brunette hair and smiled whenever spoken to.

I observed and imitated playfully the way she held her pinky finger out as she sipped on a cup of tea.

Queenie laughed as we both danced around arm and arm outside of the window until Olivia stepped up and peeked into the window.

"That's Mary his wife," I said, "why he wed with her if he sposed to love you so much as you say?"

Her expression fell like it really dropped as she moved away as if what she saw through the window was a contagious virus.

She stormed off after.

Queenie and I laughed but little did we know it was no laughing matter. Indeed, Olivia had been terrible to us all, but after she saw what she did with Jack it was like her whole world shattered into millions of tiny pieces.

No one not even her own mother could convince her to get up from the old bed in their slave quarter that they stayed in.

When this news got out one of the white overseers was sent to see to her.

"Olivia, you better get your black ass up now, girl, I ain't gon say it again!" He demanded.

"Please, Olivia!" Her mom cried.

Once she didn't listen, he ordered us all out and we heard the sound of a whip going and Olivia whimpers then yelling, but there was nothing we could do.

The door opened and out she ran with blood all over the dress she wore and her hair a mess. She fell to the ground underneath a tree as he followed zipping up his pants "that oughta teach you a lesson."

He walked off as rain started falling.

We gathered around her, tried to help but her mother shooed us all away. "Getaway! Go."

Sty told me he saw the entire thing from the window and that Olivia should have never put her freedom into someone else's hands.

The truth was she thought Jack was her only chance of an escape when he proved to be no different than her father who I supposed was incapable of loving her—she snapped.