Douglass’ Women by Jewell Parker Rhodes Read Free Book Online Page B

shook my head. “What’s it supposed to mean?”
    “Give me a penny and I’ll ask.”
    “I’m not giving you any more money. Go on. Get.”
    “Can’t blame me if you don’t like the message.”
    “Get.”
    He clicked, his horse trotted, pulling his cart. Pans clanging, Penny-man whistling. He grinned his toothy-self and winked.
    I sat on the porch step. Mind whirling, I was sorry I’d asked anything.
    “Little things.”
    “Mam, what’s that mean? What it mean?” I felt empty. Buried my head in my lap. Damn Freddy. Damn the whole blessed world.
    Little things
. “Oh, Mam,” I moaned. “Oh, Mam.” I needed her good sense. But I surely didn’t understand her words.
    I wanted to be a child again. Wanted her comfort. Wanted her circling her hand on my back, whispering “It’s all right.”
    Little things
. Like a hand comforting.
    That’s what she meant—
    Memories rose and I could see Pa courting, loving Mam long after their babies. I could see his hand resting softly on Mam’s shoulder. See Pa smiling at her, holding her yarn. See Pa bringing a fish, already cleaned, ready to be fried. Pa, handing Mam a glass of water while she worked in the garden. Watching her drink, then bringing another glass. Pa rubbing Mam’s toes. Making her laugh. During fall and spring, he’d bring her the first red leaf or the first flower. Winter, he’d drape a shawl about her shoulders.
    Little things
.
    Wiping my face, I went inside the house, pulled my wedding dress from beneath my bed. Once Freddy brung me flowers. But other than him being inside me, there’d been no little things and I doubted there ever would be.
    Two weeks, I’d heard not a word from Freddy. Two weeks, I’d sewed my hopes and dreams into my wedding dress. Cotton, lace, satin ribbons and rows of even stitches were signs of my love.
    Now I didn’t have any hope or dreams left.
    Little things
.
    The dress was hateful. I snatched it up, shook it, tore the sleeves, ripped the ribbons. Shredded the lace threads. Hateful, hateful dress.
    Two weeks had passed and I still didn’t know if Bailey made it to New York, if he was walking the streets alive, or dead in some pauper’s grave or, sold, beingmarched south to Mississippi. My heart was chained.
    If he was dead, I think I would’ve felt it. The sun would’ve dimmed; the sky would’ve been less blue. Him dead, I could take. But what scared me was him alive, not sending for me.
    This my sore. Bailey free and me chained here. All I had to do was look in the mirror to know why Freddy left me.
    This isn’t how I dreamt it. I needed to leave today. Now. Soon as I started showing Miz Baldwin going to fire me.
    I sucked air, letting myself think for the first time, what my body knew to be true. Bailey’s seed in me. And I’m chained to a man who doesn’t want me—who’d never do little things,
anything
, to show his love.
    I wiped my tears. Life goes on. I will, too. I’d better ’cause a baby’s on the way and Murrays always take care of their own. Married or not, my family would accept me and mine.
    I exhaled. Roads were hard but I could walk.
    Next time I see Mam, I’ll ask: “What’s the best thing Pa ever did?” She’ll think I’m silly, maybe a child to feel sorry for. But she’ll sit me down and tell me stories, memories to pass on to my child. While my memories, what
didn’t
happen for me, be weighing me down.

     
    Two weeks more, two weeks more. Every day I say I’m leaving; every day, I wait one day more. No word from Freddy. I didn’t expect it but deep inside I kept a thin sliver of hope. More fool me.
    New life was swimming in me like the bones were swimming in the sea. My girl—it must be a girl, I wanted a girl—be raised by the sea. She’d learn gardening, how to make preserves, and how to turn a fine seam. Mam would help me and I would help Mam in her dying days. Mam would love my baby like she loved me.
    At the kitchen table, a steel bowl between my knees, I was