Family (6 page)

ALWAYS WAS LEFT
with Plum, still slaves on the land. The land where the Master of the Land was destroyin the land … and the slaves and his pitiful little wife. I returned in time to see them buryin Ole Mistress. She died from sugar diabetes, high blood pressure, heart trouble, and somethin they now call hypertension.

The farm had fallen down so quick, in such a short time, til I hadn’t realized how far down they had gone til I saw the funeral for Ole Mistress. It
was a shabby one. Not at all like the one she musta dreamed of.

Young Master had the coffin built right in the yard, front of the house by the slave carpenters. Didn’t get no fancy one from the town and didn’t send out no notices. Them people was maybe not comin anyway. Cause they was worried.

Sons talkin bout a war to preserve their way of life so they could keep destroyin the lives of slaves. Well, that’s what it was. Most of their land had done given out, just used up. And slaves was runnin off … and gettin away! Some masters was in debt. Deep debt. The rumors and wars was turnin things all up and round.

I don’t really know it all cause I wasn’t in their business so much, I just noticed all that in a glance at life. With the farm doin so poorly, all slaves what wasn’t more raggedy, was dirty and mos let to stay that way. Food was low. Young Mistress was grievin, tired and exhausted tryin to keep up a tradition of superiority. Takes money to do that and money was surely low and slow. I blive it was round 1844 or so.

The Young Master was dyin from his dis-ease,
really body-old. His long yellow fingernails only plucked at the few pretty, thin slaves he had round there on that ole farm. Some of em even his daughters.

When he wanted favors from a slave now, since the slave knew he couldn’t complain on em, they made him pay some little somethin, some little favor in return for a feel. Shame to be said, but a small coin here, a small pretty thing there, counts! Specially when you ain’t got nothin. Them slaves wasn’t happy bout it, but when you ain’t got nothin … and don’t see nothin comin … See? A starvin man will eat dirty bread.

Someway Always had missed the disease. Too tired. Too busy. Not wantin none of them ole men left on the farm. I reckon she had some of her ancestors’ blood runnin through her mind. She was raggedy, but she was clean and still pretty in a thin kind of way. Plum was bout five years old now. My daughters stayed close to each other, workin most times.

Plum was a bit kinda sickly. Delicate. Nothin Always nor Miz Elliz could put a finger on, but somethin was there. The child had no appetite,
didn’t eat hardly nothin. So she was extra dear to Always cause the link with her family was only gonna be as strong as Plum was. Sometime love is a hard thing to make in them kinda circumstances my children lived in, but they made a love and it held them together and probly kept em from goin crazy. I know Plum loved Always so much, she didn’t even-not always tell her when she was in pain. Just go off in some corner of that old chicken house, hide her face in her arms and suck her thumb til she could feel better. Such a little tyke … all alone. My heart yearned to be in that chicken house with her … to hold her, comfort her, make her well. I couldn’t. Then the time showed up to sell some of the last slaves, to keep the big house goin.

One of the men who showed up, Doak Butler, didn’t live too far away. Maybe eighteen miles or so. In his life his mama and papa had only had two slaves. The man slave died from overwork.

One woman, old but still livin, took care his sick brother, Jason. The brother was sick cause he had got struck down one day, sawin trees. Got
hit. Had just ruined his spine, wasted his legs. His mind was mostly alright but he couldn’t talk clear, couldn’t walk.

This young man, Doak, was getting married. He wanted to make a showin and needed a slave for his young wife-to-be. To show he was some kind of class gentry. He already had a little land. He, this man, looked upon my daughter, Always. And he was pleased. I liked to died, again. And … he couldn’t afford my little Plum. Ohhh! Tear my heart up, life. Just tear my heart up! You done always done it! Just keep on, keep on … til I can’t even stand death.

Doak was gettin married to what he considered a genteel lady name Wanda Sue, but called “Sue.” In truth she was a hard-workin young woman, Christian upbringin, shy, reserved, delicate constitution as the times called for, about to be what came early in those days, a old maid. She did believe she was superior to the darker race cause it had been bred in her, but she was not cruel. She was a virgin and willin to do her duty by her husband and give him sons as her father and
mother told her to do. She wasn’t so glad to get Doak but she was glad to get a husband and her own home.

As far as genteel ancestors, hers was like most of everybodies’. A female ancestor had been sent to America as a white bondswoman and served her seven years in hard work. Course, whatever she had done to get them seven years, poverty had done made her do it. She got to America and times was just as hard here, but more opportunity to work in a clean, growin land. And course she knew she would be free someday. In her years here, need turned to opportunity and a good solid marriage with a hard-workin man. Their family grew, always workin hard. They had a few slaves, worked them hard. Then some kinda trouble hit em hard and they lost a lot, long with the right to choose a better, more prosperous husband for Sue. She was now, like I said, goin to marry Doak and he was gettin a slave for her to show he was quality folks. And, like I said, he saw Always.

Doak also saw Loretta. For Loretta, the times was harder and men were few. But, bein like she was, she kept herself a distance from all what she
thought to be beneath her, like poor white trash. It never seem to touch her that her family was gettin poorer and the farm in debt. Course, she wasn’t trash. She was well bred, got to give her mama that. She wanted her girls to be ladies, and one was.

Loretta was also lookin more to hear from Sun. Not from lovin him as a man, I don’t think, but just to hope he found a way to get wealthy and send for her, pay her back and get her away from the empty country life she was livin. She dreamed of having beautiful things again and bein a beautiful woman too. Just like life, everybody dreamin.

Virginia saw him … and felt she had fallen in love as far as her hard little narrow heart would let her. She peeped through windows, peeped behind curtains, looked round corners, and found a hundred excuses to come through the front parlor when her mama and Doak was talkin business. Young Mistress had taken over tryin to run the farm, tryin to stay on top of hard times and life.

When he told Young Mistress he wanted a maid-servant for his future bride, “I am to be wed in the very short future. I wanted to buy … 
purchase the nigga woman in time to train her a bit fore my bride comes in to home.”

Mistress looked him over very carefully. She had two daughters, marriageable age. No suitor in sight cept some Reverend who had been writing Loretta for too long a time not to asaid somethin besides Praise Jesus, as Loretta reported he said. And this here man may not be rich but he was landed and had money enough to buy a slave, where THEY had to sell one!

She bowed her head, folded the money, and placin it discreetly in a drawer, said, “Well suh! I surely hope everything goes well for you all. We may be havin a weddin someday soon ourselves. My two lovely daughters, you know.”

He bowed his head and smiled as a southern gentleman would. “Yes mam, I seen em. They be right lovely beautiful young ladies.”

Young Mistress stood as she said, “They have so many suitors, they just haven’t decided which to choose. But if I had known such a handsome and worthy gentleman was just down the road from us, we would have included you in some of our functions here at SwallowLand.”

Doak perked up. Thought, “Oh! I am a gentleman! It showed, did it?” He brightened, thinkin of Loretta momentarily. “Yes mam!”

Young Mistress called a house slave, old Dora, and sent her for Always, and ordered lemonade for Doak. All the slaves knew somebody was goin that day. They’d been goin so reglar. One or two when different kinds of white men try to look them over.

The mood, the atmosphere of the slave quarters was sad and gray and blue. Deep sighs, hand clasps, tender touches, tired walks off a space or so, then a return to sit and handle old belongins what wasn’t nothin but just dear to someone who ain’t had nothin else.

The house what wasn’t never their home was now home in a different way. The real old ones, or sick ones was only a little better off, cause sometime they would be gotten rid of. They was only takin up space and food sorely needed now and they couldn’t work as hard for their upkeep. Slave dealers can do a whoppin lot to a old slave to spruce him up for a week or so. Til they gray hair start showin again and the shiny grease wears off.

These old ones loved each other, most of em, as family. And you know it don’t feel good, not knowin where you goin and who you goin to and if you can make a new family feelin without the time to give it. And this old work may be hard, but the beatins was fewer now, cept for that Virginia when she had stole some liquor and drinked it and come out afta em to “play.” So … all of em was nervous and scared. Even the animals acted like they felt it. Even some of them slaves went to hug a cow or a mule good-by, cause they had tended it or worked with it all its life.

But … Always was called. Folks not off workin on jobs hustled into their broken-down shacks … gladly. Always looked round for Plum, but Plum was off somewhere, probly pullin weeds or some small job. So Always dried her hands, smoothed her apron, straightened her back, took a scared swallow, and went to the big house to the Mistress. She was newly sixteen years old with the heart and backbone of a woman, but no new wisdom to help her face this life. To get her ready for whatever might come.

She finally stood before Young Mistress, who
was writing on a sheet of one of the papers scattered on her little desk and did not look up at first.

The Mistress was not soft-hearted, but she was not truly hard-hearted. She was doing what she had to do for her own survival. She was human and she felt a few pangs of sorrow for this girl she had known since she was a baby. She spoke in a hushed voice, avoidin Always’s eyes. “You have been sold to Mr. Doak Butler. He’s gonna be takin you with him today. Get yourself ready. Just leave your job as it is.”

Then Mistress forgot her small sorrow and wondered who else she would get to do the good job that Always did, not always playin but really workin hard.

Always’s face just sorta turned to wood or stone as all kinds of thoughts scrambled through her mind. But she said a automatic “Yes’m.”

Young Mistress gave Always her attention again, cause she really did need that money. “Go on, hurry now, the gentleman is waitin.”

Always asked gently, “Scuse me, mam, want I go find Plum?”

The Mistress thinked on the fact that Plum and
Always was sisters. Underneath her upbringin she did feel sad again for a minute. She said, “No, we will take care of that.” Then, she thought a minute, and said quickly, “You have been in this house … You been born here. Your pappy and your mammy was raised here … died here. At any rate, this has always been your home. You have been well fed and cared for. You are young and strong. You have been taught to do all kinds of work that will help you get along in the world and please your new owners. You are … not … pretty, but that is not necessary in your life and I don’t think you need to be very smart to do the work you will do. Simply do what you are told to do, as well as you possibly can, as we have tried to teach you. Are you a virgin?” She knew she had no sons, but slaves were savages no matter how meek they looked. She also thought of her husband and disease.

Always nodded.

The Mistress continued. “Good! Now, I have told your new owner you are very good in the kitchen and laundry and you sew … some.”

Always still thought of Plum. “And I takes care
of my little sister, Plum, mam. I can get her ready.”

Young Mistress stood and said firmly, “I told you, we will take care of that.”

Always thought she meant they would get ole Miz Elliz to get Plum ready. After all, they knew Plum was sickly, and all she had. Surely they would not separate them. She left.

As she went down the steps to the path runnin through the tall trees to the slave quarters, she hated the Master and Mistress with a full heart. But it was a useless hate, like a raindrop hatin a tornado, just worthless and useless to itself even. When she got to her shack she stood on the dirt floor in a blur of tears … and fear. Useless.

She had shared that shack with two others, but they were not there now. One sold last month, one in the field somewhere. She stopped dead still, heavin her breath, hands at her side, feelin the thump, hearin the beat, of her heart. She looked round the shack … her home. Now, now, there was things she loved in it.

She finally went and rolled her few nothins in a old rag. Her main piece was a head scarf she had
made out of scraps left over from sewin for Loretta and Virginia and some of the slave things at Christmas. It only took a minute to get her things.

Then, she moved in the dead silence to the square cut out in the wall for air. There she had stood many times lookin out toward where freedom might be. Where Sun might be. Where peace might be. The day was already hot with the late morning sun, when the heat thickens, grows heavy, and everything is caught in it. Through her tears and the hole-window, everything looked like it was burnt in the minute, like time was standin still. Trees, bushes, vines could be seen through that hole back of the shack. A bush with flower buds grew up and through the crooked-cut window-hole, comin between some of the loose boards of the wall.

Always’s eyes filled with tears. Silent hard tears that did not roll nor move. She put out her arm and her hand sought a leaf, a little flower bud and pressed it to her nose. The smell was free. It moved gently from her nose down through her whole body—she felt hollow. Then … then her tears
moved, flowed, and the trees and bushes, buds, seemed to wave and drown like in a dream. Everything ran together. A bird my baby threw crumbs to, from her own crumbs, flew up and landed in that budded bush. He chirped for his crumbs. There was none.