The year is 1809, on a plantation in southern Mississippi is where the tale of Sty and Polly takes place. He's a house slave and the illegitimate child of a plantation owner. She's a field slave brought in by shackles and wishful thinking. Together...
"C'mon tell me I's ain't gonna tell nobody!" I promised as I followed him towards the window inside of the attic as he gazed out. "Is it anybody that I know?"
He puckered his lips like he was about to say something, but decided against it which meant it was someone that I knew.
"I'll tell you some other time right now we should be working."
"You know everybody in the quarter thinks we together."
He laughed, a rarity. "Well, I guess it's nice we can keep them guessing."
The women down at my old quarter seemed sure I was with him while the ones in the new quarter all assumed I was with Mike when the truth was simply I was with neither of these men.
Their purpose of being around me hadn't yet been revealed.
But I too was looking forward to knowing.
As soon as I got back downstairs, I started to clean. The big house was really big, so it required a lot of work to keep it looking nice. But it didn't require everyday cleaning which was what we had to do for these folks.
We had to clean in repetition because things got messy whenever they came around and sometimes they purposely made it that way just so they could see us clean.
They'd spill food whenever they ate, walk through the house with muddy shoes, and all sorts of weird things.
The oldest one he got a kick out of being a handful and doing things like that which only made it more understandable as to why he hadn't gotten married yet his younger brother had.
One day a slave girl by the name of Flora and I were called upstairs to tend to Miss Elaine Williamson herself. She didn't need us to help her get dressed she was an able body woman. But she sat there like her arms and legs were gone as we brushed through her hair. "I want some of those twirling things you nigger girls wear in your head."
"Braids?" Flora said.
"Yes! Isn't that what I said?" she snapped at the slight chance one of us was correcting her.
So we added braids and ribbons up into her styled hair. And secretly laughed together at the strands of dull gray that spread throughout her head while doing that.
We had done so much for these folks that even if they ever decided to pay us for all the years we put into 'working' for them then it wouldn't still be enough. The torture they put us through went beyond any of their paper money.
No, it can not fix it nor make it at all better.
Calling it just working was an exaggeration, but for the sake of the story so I don't confuse anyone I'll continue to. Even though I know what working looked like.
Workers were brought in amongst us sometimes.
They were foul men in every sense of the word that was no different than them—indentured servants they worked while we slaved and they'd made it clear to us that they weren't like us. Some of the slave girls who could no longer take the neglect would try wooing these men in hopes of getting rewarded what they had.
These were weak women in my eyes.
"Sty, how long do you think we got being here I's mean do you think there's someplace better for the negro?" I spoke while looking out of the attic at the dancing slave girls huddled around the group of indentured servants.
"Why do you ask?"
"Cuz I's tired of this place I's wanna leave." I angered. "There's gotta be someplace better out there beyond these plantation grounds."
His response "you aren't thinking about running away... are you, Polly?"
"If I's am then would it be such a bad thing?" I sunk into the rocking chair like a feather falling from the sky.
"What about your mother?"
"She'll do fine without me I's ain't been nothing but trouble to her since I's got here."
"Hey, don't speak like that." He kneeled before me "we got each ot—"
I jumped up from my seat before he could complete his sentence. "No, we don't! I'm out there and you up in the big house doing Lord's knows what and why you never say anything to your spoilt siblings? I'm tired of 'em."
Folding my arms over my bosom before falling back into the rocking chair.
"We can make fun up in here, I thought the writing was f—"
"Well, it ain't!" I hissed. "What's the point of writing if it ain't doing anything for us? The only thing it's gon get us is dead if anybody finds out."
He handed me ink and some paper. "You want freedom so much then write about it? Manifest it and it shall come true."
My facial features all twisted into a frown when I snatched the pen from him and wrote with fiery passion 'Freedom, I's don't know much about that, but I's want it more than anything else. Yep! To be as free as the birds in the noon and not prejudged for the skin color that they've assumed should be used and abused.'
He read it after. "That's great, how do you feel now?"
I rolled my eyes and stood. "Hungry."
Dinner was waiting out in the dining area when I made my way downstairs. Licking my mouth, I turned away and rushed out of the back door. Anna stood on the porch along with a random lady. "How come that White child eating dirt?" she asked in shock as Lily filled her rosy cheeks with dirt.
"Her mother is a slave."
"And the father?" She added curiously before ordering me to bring over the toddler with a snap of the fingers. I brought Lily over with her face covered in dirt and snot bubbles "my she looks just like my little one. You sure her mother is a slave?"
Anna nodded. "Positive."
Lily's mother wasn't just a slave but Anna's sister as well. Funny that she failed to mention this child was her niece. I wanted to say it but kept on quiet.
"She has red hair just like your daddy." I couldn't resist myself didn't care about the repercussions afterward either.
"There you are!" Olivia's mother gasped then got Lily from my arms.
"This lady here was interested in Lily so I's brought her over."
"Interested?" She asked in a shocked tone. "Lily ain't no slave to be sold she just like you folks, look at her."
The lady wanted Lily as her own and I'm guessing they made an agreement—Olivia's mother sold the child off for a better chance at life.
She boasted about it in the quarters that her grandchild was picked and would live the life she'd hope her and Olivia would. When she told a pregnant Olivia this news she ain't say much just repeated the poor child's name to herself as if she tried remembering—who was Lily.
Curtis was heartbroken and even more once Olivia gave birth to another baby girl that didn't look quite like his beloved Lily. This child had his everything—they named her Rose.
It only made me wonder when I'd become a mother.
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