Family (7 page)

Always lifted the crushed flower bud in her hand, said, “I don’t have no food to give you today, but I’ll give you some love, little bird,” and dropped the young petals down to the free bird. “Take good care yoself.” Then she turned, picked up her rags, left her home of sixteen years. Sobs now findin their way out, tears droppin all over that shack’s dirt floor, runnin through whatever there is of me, leavin pain everywhere I am, into the still, hot air, lingerin in the dust that floated in the rays of hot sunlight. The bird turned his head sideways, so to see better, and watched her go through the door for the last time, out into the world. And she didn’t know a bit more bout where she was goin than that bird did! Left, not to seek a future, but to bow down to whatever future was comin to her. And I feel now as if I
could KILL whoever thought of all this, such a horror mess, again and again. But I done felt this many times, again and again.

As Always walked toward her future down that time-worn path to the buggy waitin to carry her away, she wondered if Brother Sun and Peach were alive or dead. She did not know Sun had tried to buy her through Loretta, but that Loretta never told anyone because she did not want Always to go. She, Loretta, wanted to go. And Always was a kinda insurance that Sun would be where she, Loretta, could somehow reach him, and if he never sent for her, then Always had no right to get away. This … and still Loretta had kindness in her heart for many other things. But, I guess all these things led somehow back to herself.

I watched all these things. I knew things, and then again, I didn’t know things. This bein here and not bein here all at the same time was a hard thing to be. I couldn’t help nobody or nothin! It is surely a hard thing to be. And not know why … or even how. I only knew I couldn’t help my babies. None.

ALWAYS REACHED THAT
buggy-wagon standin in front of the Big House, lookin for Plum. Plum was not there. Truth is, Plum was stealin time playin in round that ole broke-down chicken house she and Always set in sometimes to be alone together.

They told Always Plum was not goin with her and Doak, seein the look on her face, took her arm to push her up on the wagon bed. Always struggled away, cryin for Plum. Plum heard her
and came runnin on her weak, little thin legs fast as them legs could carry her. An instant’s look and everything was clear to even my little five-year-old Plum. She started screamin too. The yard was empty of slaves cept for those who were sposed to be out there, like the horse-handler and the buggy-man.

Young Mistress was standin in the window watchin through the curtains. Always raised such a fuss, long with my little Plum, that the mistress moved way from the window. My children cried and screamed and reached out for each other, both held back by unfeelin arms. Ahhhh, my children, my children.

Loretta continued watchin from her window, thinkin how far Always would be away when she, herself, laughed in Sun’s face for leavin her behind so long. Virginia watched, then decided to run outside and help em with the black bitch.

It was when Virginia ran out the front door and all hands holdin Always turned their eyes to her, that Plum pulled away and ran around and under the wagon. Pullin herself up on a bar that fit under the seat and crossed from each wheel, Plum lay
there with the stirred dust and old dirt flyin round her, into her nose and mouth as she breathed heavy and as quiet as she could. I don’t know what they call it, but she lay stuck in that place til they finally brought Always down, tied her hands behind her and chained one of her feet to the sideboard … and drove away.

Oh Lord, I could not reach my child Plum.

As they drove along, she began to slide and somethin that damn man did drivin cause the rod to move and press into my baby child. She was too stunned and afraid to scream, thinkin too, she would be taken away from her sister, her family. She never did cry out then. She didn’t feel the pain after awhile. When it gradually took over her whole little body and she couldn’t hold it in anymore, her voice was weak and small and the wagon made so much noise they couldn’t hear her crys and moans.

But … I did. I felt them too. Ohhhh, I felt them moans and her pain as she slid and the bar tore into my little child’s arms and legs as she tried to hold tight to it … for life. Then her dear, sweet little body was held stuck as she bled to
death all those long eighteen miles to where her new home would be in a grove, in the ground, in a grave. But, she did not die right away. She was unconscious, near death, when the wagon stopped and the new master got out and pulled Always, on her back, to the ground. God … why ain’t you helpin them? Helpin me? What good is what you have let me do, if I can’t do nothin for nobody? But who can know Your reasons?

It was broad daylight, round bout leven or twelve o’clock. Hot! Hot! Mosquitos squitin, flys flyin, birds flyin and screamin. Always screamin, bein pulled by the feet, she could see into the thickets, through the bushes on the damp, gravelly ground to the stream that all of a sudden looked like it was made of cracked glass. She had been hungry and very thirsty and thought maybe he was going to get some water. But … no, now she felt the damp dirt stickin to her, the gravel diggin into her skin as he drug her across it. She smelled the dirt, the clay, indeed, it was in her nose, her mouth, her eyes. Tied arms bled. Tied arms could not fight. She could not understand what and why he had to do this, this way. She
had been goin to wait to see how it all turned out before she would hate him, but now … she hated him now. The pimply rough skin, the broken ragged fingernails, his rough hands and ways, he had hidden at the Big House. The handsome face with glittery, small eyes the color of the sky, now was ugly, ugly and hateful. She hated him NOW!

Then the sound came. A laugh of happy madness, possession. He was laughin! Stretchin her legs open wide and lookin and laughin as he dug his fingers into the tender flesh. She was beautiful … and she was his, his slave, his body to do with as he liked, at any time, in any place, and none to say nay.

He took her. Like the savage he and his kind accused her of bein. The hot sun shone through the tree leaves into her face. She never blinked her eyes. I felt twisted, grieved, memory, pain … worse than death. See … I couldn’t help her. She looked through the leaves to the sky and wondered, between the pain,
why
she could not die.
When
could she die? Time trudged on slow, slow feet, til it was over.

When he was finished, spent, he moved off from her, lookin at her with smilin eyes, proud and satisfied. How can a man be satisfied with what he takes, somethin not given to him? I don’t know. He moved off from her, fixed himself up, then took handfuls of water and threw them between her legs. Jerked her up. Then, tried to kiss her! Kiss her! She struggled and he laughed. Then half-drug and carried her back to the wagon, left her in a heap.

They had both seen the puddle of blood under the wagon, and when he had her safely on the wagon, he stooped down and pulled at the bloody rag hangin there … what was left of my baby. He held it up to Always and said, seriously, “Was this that cute little nigga-gal, your sister?”

Always looked, the scream started and stopped in the same instant. There was no sound for this new pain added to so many others. Her heart just cried for this child she loved, silently. “Please Master, can we put her in the wagon? I’ll clean it up. I’ll bury her. That’s my sister.”

Doak held the bloody body bundle away from him, said, “Hell, you don’t know if that’s your sister nor not. Even live. Who knows what a slave does when they makin babies!?”

Always did cry a little sound then. Said, “Master, sir, that’s my sister. I knows it. Can I have her, please?”

Doak pulled straw and whatsomever together on the wagon bed and put the body on it. “You sure betta clean this wagon up, sure nuff, cause blood is hard to come out and it looks ugly. Wonder what your old Mistress is goin to say bout this slave bein gone and dyin.”

From her own bloody body and clothes, Always said, “I’ll clean it up good, Master.” Then he got in the wagon and finished them few miles home. Her new home.

Always bowed her head, and heaved them sobs inside her body that millions of people what was slaves to other human people have heaved down through all these centuries I feel in this huge space round me. All kinds of people. All kinds.

ALWAYS HAD
, from her first walkin and seein times, loved trees and flowers, sunshine and birds and things. Now, lookin at the yard and shabby fence of her new home, she felt nothin but a weary emptiness. The trees looked mean and broodin. The yard was like a empty, dead desert full of death. There was no comfort in the huge trees full of birds. They looked stiff, unreal and unfriendly, like the whole place had been lost and was just
standin there to become her grave, not her home. She looked at the land where it stretched out, tryin to see the end of life.

Doak was proud of his nigger-slave and now he looked at his land and felt himself to be almost rich gentry. He grinned, stretched out his arm, pointin, wavin at his land. “This here is all mine! Thirty-five acres! Good soil! And we gonna fix this house up too! I got a new wife comin! Your Mistress!”

Always looked at the land through pain and hooded eyes and hate. Doak said on, “Right now it don’t show up so good, just two men and,” his voice hardened, “one of them a useless cripple.”

He looked at Always thoughtfully. “But with a wife, and you, a sturdy slave with a lotta good years and strong suckers in you, we gonna one day stretch out to far as you can see!”

Always looked down to her sister Plum, dead. What did she care where land reached to. She hated that Plum had to be buried in this bastard’s land, but it would only have been a little better back at SwallowLand where she had come from.

New thoughts was new things to my Always, but now she had some. She raised her eyes, again, to the land. A place, a secret place, she would find to bury her little sister, the end of her family. And that secret piece of land she would make hers. She’d steal it!

And she thought, “I won’t work these fields. They can kill me, but I won’t work these fields. I want to die anyway. I hate this man, I hate his wife, I hate his land and I will hate his children and all they children too.” Then, a even newer thought struck her. “I will live. I will live to destroy them like they’s destroyed me and my mama and my family.” She looked at the land again. “I’m gonna destroy you too.” The gust of power from the hate left her as sudden as it had come. She felt her emptiness, her bein without any power … and she bowed her gritty, bloody head over toward her bloody baby sister and cried all over again, inside her soul, not with her eyes.

The wagon pulled into the yard, the man, Doak called out “Poon!”, and soon a older black woman came limpin down the backsteps through the yard
to the wagon. She was lookin at Always, to see was this new thing come to make life harder or better.

Poon was bout thirty-five years old, lookin fifty. Nineteen children born and sold to buy most of the land the Butlers had. Scars showed for the minutes she hadn’t been useful or been tryin to fight off her Masters. Lines, deep lines, from the times she had given birth to her babies, alone. Her babies?! No, just babies. No, was
her
babies. With no help. Hemorrangin, goin back to work in the kitchen, or the field, cause there was nobody else to do the work. There wasn’t one soft line in her gray old face with the droopin, sad, dark round eyes filled with sad memories and questions. Where was them babies?

She did not dislike Always; she did not like her either. Just almost nothin left in her for feelins. But she was glad there was another woman here now to bear some of the burden and strain of her life.

She was a dark, ashy brown color. Head wrapped in a flour cloth rag, dress many times patched and soiled with many days wearin without
a wash. She was barefoot. Body bent … from old pain. Her soul was bent from old pain. But … there was somethin. Her eyes were not broken, only sad. Or was it hate in em? Always did not know, or care. She was too full of her own hate and pain.