Imaginings: Debt

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Debt/ Town

We’s cried together as the sun lit the mornin’sky.

***

“Now I’ain’t sure if’en they’ll want help,” Mama said. The sun was up when we got to town. There was so many White folk movin' round , goin’ about they’s day most ain’t interested in two colored gurl. “But we’ll see.”

I’s nodded as we walk through town. Mama told me on the long walk that we be goin’ to the general store to have a talk with Mr. Washington. He owns the only store for miles around. It was located on the other side of town. White and Colored alike come to his store to shop for goods.

There were all kinds of things goin’ on in town, things I ain’t never seen be ‘for. Men and women in fancy clothes walked the streets, while men sold remedies out of horse-driven carts. Colored women in lose fitting clothes waved at men passin’ by from the window of a house. “Come taste my wares,” they’d yelled. I asked Mama what they’s selling but she ain’t say. My stomach rumbled at the smell of chicken fryin’in the air as a horse tried nibblin' at my hair. Mama shooed it away and kept me walkin'.

There’s so much that caught my eyes, all so excitin’ to see, but we ain't stop walkin' too look see. But this a'here ain’t my first time in town.

I’s come with Mama and Papa back when I's was no bigger than Cory, my little sister. Papa ain’t wurk for near two weeks and Mama full with child.

***

Papa ain't want me to come.

“ Sadie, should’ve left the gurl home!” Papa said, when we's stopped again. I's was tried of walkin'.

“We’s ain’t got no one to sees after her.” Mama took my hand. “When we's in town, do what Papa say Syreet, be a big girl now.” She wiped my tears and we's walk on.

"What a cute pickaninny," Mr. Washington say pattin' my head. I's jerk away and went to Mama, she held but ain't sayin' nothin'. Papa say white folk do as they's please, best kept your mouth.

I clung to Mama’s knee, watchin’ while they’s ask Mr. Washington for credit. I ain’t like his eyes, like they’s ain’t got no light in them. Don’t remember all that Mr. Washington said to Papa that day, but I’s remember Papa smilin a lot.

I’s was cold, tried, and hungry when we's walkin’ back home, but proud cause Papa said I's a big girl now that I knows how to act in town.

That was the year Mama loss my first baby sister.

Debt/ Mama

I ain’t say nothing, just plucked that chicken rememberin' what happen’ that day Mama took me to the general store.

We ain’t have nothin' on the shelves that mornin' and nothin' in our stomachs for better part of a week. Mama woke that mornin' determined to change that. She woke me early. “Wake up Syreet,” she whispered in my ear so not to wake my little sister and baby brother sleepin’ next to me.

“Mama,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She put her finger to her lips. “Don’t wake the chilren, get up and get dressed.”

I nodded and moved slowly out the bed. I quickly got dressed and followed Mama out the room. It was dark in the house but she had a candle lit on the table. Her head was down when I walk in the room. I ain’t seen Papa, but I’s heard him snorin’ from the back. I walked over, thinkin’ I heard Mama cryin’. But when I’s come up beside her she raised her head. “Syreeta.” Her eyes glazin' in the candle light.

“Mama, you okay?”

She kissed my face. “Let’s take a look at you,” she said, smilin’. It wasn’t a smile that reached her sad brown eyes. But Mama was always sad. She stood. “Here wash your face and rinse your mouth, I brought in some water.”

That was my job to fetch water for the house. I known then that whatever was goin’ on it was important. “Yes ma’am.” I did like she told me, then she sat me down to comb my hair.

“Where we going Mama,” I asked, needing to know somethin', but she shush me.

“Got to go to town, do some business.” She whispered, “We needs to look presentable not like we’s poor.”

Everyone knows we’s poor, Papa don’t wurk and when he does it ain’t for long. He ain’t wurk in weeks. Mama havin’ to go out and wash clothes for white folks, but they ain’t paid her.

When she done, Mama looks at me. “You’ll do.” She said and kissed my face again.

It was still dark when we walked out the house. The air was full with the scent of honeysuckle and cow dung. Mama grabbed my hand and we started the long walk up the road to town.

The road was dark, and quiet for the most part. Mama seemed caught up in her thoughts. An owl hooted, then went silent as it caught wind of its prey. The sounds of night creatures welcomed our path of silence. I picked up a stick and was breakin’ up any ant hills along the way as I walked behind Mama.

She cased a long shadow in the moon light. Mama was tall, but not like a man, with soft dark skin mournful eyes and beautiful broad features. She plaited her thick hair in cornrows; and wore her old flower dress that shirted the top of her thick worn booths.

The sun was a peekin’ it’s head from the horizon when Mama decided to stop just out of town. “Go pee Syreeta,” she told me, as she headin’ for a tree herself.

“But I’s ain’t got to go,” I told Mama.

“You know we’s can’t go in town.” She was makin' sure I peed be’foe hand. Mama said, “Ain’t no tellin’ how long we’s be standin' around out there waitin' for Mrs. Washington to let us in, best go now.”

She waved her hand for me to go, so I’s went behind a tree too. When I come out, Mama waitin’ there for me. “Syreeta we’s need to talk,” she said. It look' did like her eyes got sadder.

“Okay.”

We sat down on a stump and Mama took my hand. “Baby, I’s known you understand things, you got eyes you see.” I nodded, and she smiled. “I suspect better than your Papa and me with all you learnin’.

I smiled too. “I like school,” I’s tell her.

“I know baby,” she stopped smilin’. “That’s what I’s want to talk about. You know Papa ain’t found wurk and I don’t know if’ven I get paid. We’s goin’ to town to see Mr. Washington.”

I knew he's the own the general store; we were goin’ get some food. My mouth watered, I’s was hunger from the walk.

“I’s goin’ ask to see if’ven he’ll give us some credit.”

I’s nodded.

“You understand if’ven Mr. Washington don’t give us credit I’s don’t know what we’ll do come winter. I suspect your Papa could go huntin’ but he gon’ need buck-shot for the rifle. Then there’s meal and sugar, beans… ” She was wonderin’ off in thought.

“ Mama I’s understand, you go’ ask Mr. Washington for credit for the winter.”

She turned to look at me strange like, “No baby, you don’t understand.”

Tears swim in her eyes now. “I’m a'ask, but I’s don’t suspect they’ll give us what we’s need. Your Papa….” She stopped, decidin’ not to say what she plan to say about Papa. “ Times a’ hard all around Syreeta,” she continued. “We’s need you to help.”

“I’ll help Mama,” I’s told her quick. “I’ll look after the chilren, I’s always do.”

“And you’ve don’ a fine job, but… the family needs you to wurk Syreet.”

“Wurk! I’s got to leave school!”

I ain’t want to leave school. Mama and Papa, they were slaves; they couldn’t learn ‘causin’ they Master said they couldn’t. But I’s free! I’s can learn just like white folks!

I started crying.

Mama nodded, tears a river down her face too. “I’s know baby, lawd knows I know. I ain’t never been schooled. I’s proud to have my child read to me, teach me words and all. But times a’ hard Syreeta.We need you helpin'.”

She reached over and held me. “I’s sorry baby.”

We’s cried together as the sun lit the mornin’sky.

Debt/ No More Fire

I stood next to the chicken coop by the house keepin’ out of the way of all the runnin’ around the men was doin’. I held the mule and mare tight to keep them calm, they be mighty scared of the fire. I was too I guess for a while, but it looks as though they got it under control. It wasn’t nothin’ now but a spit that they were stomping out with they feet.

The men were all tuckered out now that it was over, some rested on the ground while others lean up against the barn. They all were full of black soot from the fire, looking like those black face men in Mrs. Hill’s magazines Mama brought home for us to read. The women folk come down from the road, now that the fire was gone, handing their men water and towels to clean up. Some just started at the ruin woods shock shaking they’s head at its bleakness.

I was looking at the once rich woods too thinking all those trees were gone cause of Ole Pete and me. Lawd, how them birds and all gon’ live, I thought. I looked away from the burnt woods and saw Billy goin’ in the barn with Ole Pete. I suspected they was wantin’ to check on things in there to make sure it weren’t a fire blazing inside.

The sun was going down and the folks started leaving for home. It’s been a long hard day for them and me. I knew Ole Pete would be hungry after everything, so I had to clean up and get dinner on the table. I got the mule tied down and was tying the mare when I saw Ole Pete shaking hands with some men before they were heading back home. I guess he was thanking each of them for all their help.

I gather up a chicken out the coop to cook and wrung its neck. Then I sat down on the steps of the house and began plucking it’s feathers when I notice Papa a cross the way. He was talking to Ole Pete and they was starin’ at me.

Copyright © 2013 Glynis Rankin

Trifecta Challenge: Week Ninety-Three/ Drown

Trifecta: Week Ninety-Three
Welcome Trifectans to another Trifecta Week. This week I'm killing two birds with one stone by adding the prompt word to my Web Serial Debt. If you would like to catch up on Debt please follow the link
I hope you will enjoy Drown.

GRACE (noun)

a : a charming or attractive trait or characteristic

b : a pleasing appearance or effect : charm grace

of youth — John Buchan>

c : ease and suppleness of movement or bearing
Debt/ Drown

They was up near the road, the women. I didn’t know most of them, excepting Mrs. White and Mary Washington. Mama say they ‘run they mouths,’ whatever that means.

I was watchin' the men folk wurk, throwing water on the fire. Every time that water hit it’ll howl something furious. The heat getting the better of Ole Pete, I’s seen he'd done took off his shirt. The sweat was rolling down his back like he'd gone a swimmin', thick muscles straining against the heavy buckets of water.

I heard the women call Ole Pete good-looking; some said he got grace. I ain't know what they meant, cause them men were wurkin’ hard again that fire, besides I ain’t noticed much, but Billy and all that water.

I couldn't help but remembering what he'd told me in the kitchen. How Ole Pete found him on the river bed chained with a thick rope round his neck. He'd say, " Ole Pete said I's been beat bad and near drown when he found me."

"You known who done it?" I'd wanted to ask but Billy hung his head talking to his feet. "I don't rightly know what happen." He shook his head. "Alls I know is that I had to get that there rope from around my neck."

He was quiet so long I thought he weren't goin' never say nothin' again, but then he looked up at me, his brown eyes drowning in tears. “I’s remember saying, I rather drown than hung."

I’d seen the scars clear around his neck and wrist, but I's ain't said nothing. Moma always told me that ain't no reason to talk about a bird singing in the tree, we’s all hears it.