Whiplash (6 page)

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Lily,” I said without any hesitation.

“Comment joli.”

“What?” I asked when I didn’t understand what he’d said.

“How lovely,” he translated.  “Lily…
comment joli.
”

It felt so good to hear my name on someone’s lips – my
real
name, the one given to me, in love, by my mama. I wanted him to say it over and over again until the end of forever.

“And yours?  What is your name?”

“Beau,” he told me in his raspy, deep voice.

I craned my neck to look up at him, and kept my eyes fixed on his until his lips came down closer to mine.  He kissed me once softly and my eyes fluttered closed.  I felt the pain that Caesar caused start to melt away, and I placed my hand behind his head to pull him down to kiss me again.

When he did, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and hugged him to my body tight while I laid down beneath him.  His kiss grew with passion, yet remained so reverent and tender and as he lifted my dress and began to make love to me, I welcomed his touch. He was careful and loving, never once breaking the kiss or taking his eyes off of me.  For the first time in my whole life, my body was given rather than taken.  He used his body to claim mine, and I knew in that moment that even though Julian owned me, I belonged to Beau.  Afterwards,
we parted ways and I wasn’t even halfway back to the barn before I longed for his touch again.

It had been hours since I’d left to go down to the pond.  I steeled my nerves in preparation to face Vivian, and was even ready to explain myself for being gone for so long.  I thought she’d believe me if I told her I passed out on the banks. I’d already blacked out once after the events that took place that morning, so falling into another sleep wasn’t completely out of the question.  But when I got back inside the barn, not only did I not find Vivian there, I saw that my sugarcane had already been stripped, stacked, and bundled – all of it.  I looked to the other girls for an explanation, but they were all frowning at me with contempt; all except one, that is – Number 9. 

Just then the barn door opened, and Vivian walked through it with Julian right behind her.

“Well well, my lovelies.  Haven’t we been a busy bunch today?” Julian’s eyes were set straight on me, and his tone was rich with mockery; as was Vivian’s grin.  “I’d say our girls here must have worked especially hard today.  Everyone’s load is already cleaned and ready for press. I must say I’m
very
impressed.  Aren’t you, Vivian?”

“Yes, it’s quite impressive, indeed.  I’ll go and prepare for tonight, Sir.  Girls, I will see you all at supper.” 

“Very well, then.  I will escort them to the pavilion, and you can come collect them when you’re ready.”

Under the pavilion that night I sat next to Number 9, and for the first time since we’d arrived at the plantation, I talked to someone as a friend.

“Thank you,” I said to her in between bites of sweet corn. 

“It’s no trouble, Number 10.  We’re all in this together, and I know how much Miss Vivian hates you.  I just didn’t want to see you get into any more trouble.”  She placed her hand over mine and smiled at me gently.

“Yes, she does… but I rest at night knowing the feeling is mutual.”

“My name is Hannah, by the way.  I’d like it if you called me that.”

Hannah was a petite Mulatto girl, very pretty and demure.  I remembered picking her up at a slave auction just before we crossed the Mississippi River.  She had a pleasant disposition even then, and I admired her indomitable spirit.

“Well Hannah, I’m very pleased to meet you,” I told her sincerely. 

I thought about whether or not I should tell her my name.  Only three people had ever called me by it, and two of them were gone.  I trusted Beau, and giving him my name was like giving him a special part of me that no one else could get. Still, Hannah had helped me recover earlier in the afternoon,
and
she’d saved me from bearing the brunt of Vivian’s wrath.

“I’m Lily.  I’d like it if you used my name, too.”

Vivian came into view a few seconds later, carrying a lantern.

She called us to attention before we were lined up in order and escorted out of the pavilion.  We rounded the curve where the barn sat, and continued on until we turned left onto a dirt path that cut alongside the east side of the pond.  The lantern Vivian was holding gave off just enough light for us to see our way. 

“How much more walking you think we got?” asked Hannah, her teeth chattering loud enough to be heard.  In the short time since supper, the wind had shifted and turned icy.  Late December in southern Louisiana wasn’t ever warm, but it was bitingly cold that night.  As a matter of fact, my thinly-shod feet almost slipped on the thin sheet of ice forming on the stairs of the manor’s porch.

The manor was a great big house set across the pond from the barn.  When we’d first arrived at the plantation, the building wasn’t yet tall enough to be seen over the cane stalks.  We’d always heard lots of commotion and carrying-on back off in that field, but of course none of us were so inclined to go find out what exactly was happening back there.  All we knew was that from sun-up to sundown the sounds of construction echoed over the compound from back there.  By the time mid-autumn came around, a shell of a building could be seen peeking up over the fields.  In early December, the carpenter slaves finished building it – by late December, it was furnished and made ready for me and the other girls. 

Ivory concrete encased the grand monstrosity known as Maison Devereaux.  Several columns stood in front of the structure, giving it a stately appearance. There were two stories to the house, and the entire top floor was fronted by a balcony, creating an equally large porch for the bottom level.  I counted twelve windows on the face of it, and I just knew the inside would be grand in size and beauty.  It took only a few steps onto the porch and through the front door to discover that I hadn’t been at all wrong.

Upon entering the manor, we were led through a narrow corridor before stepping out into a foyer.  It was completely quiet in there, save for Julian’s lazy whistling coming from the top of the staircase.  He took a moment to look over each of us before descending the staircase slowly.

“Good evening,” he called to us when he’d almost reached the bottom step.  “Welcome to your new home.”

Several gasps and whispers could be heard bouncing off the high ceilings of the palatial house.  Julian looked down on all of us with pride, and clapped his hands together to silence us so we could listen to what he had to say.

“You’ve all earned your position here.  I plan on running a classy establishment; one with superior women and select clientele.   If you ladies hold up your end of the bargain, your life will be something you couldn’t ever have dreamed of.”

Oohs and aahs came from nearly every girl.  The only one not impressed with the situation was me.  Julian avoided eye contact with me, making great effort to look anywhere except for where I was standing.  I was angry with him for distancing himself from me.  Before earlier that afternoon, I hadn’t been anywhere near Julian since that day at his cottage.  I’d changed so much since then, and even blamed him for what Caesar had done.

He took the final step down the stairs, hooked a sharp left, and walked over toward a dimly lit room fronted by mid-level swinging doors.  I swiveled my head smoothly to the right, watching his every move. He
had
to know I was looking at him. However, he held on to his aloofness with minimal convincingness. 

His boots scuffed the floor as he came to a halt right in front of the two swinging wooden panels.  He lowered his chin, and turned his head to the right just enough to be detected.  His eyes were downcast on the floor, but I could still feel them on me - kind of like he was looking at me without even seeing me.  He let out a breath and then disappeared through the doors, into the shadowy room.

Vivian brusquely cleared her throat, redirecting my attention to her.  She was standing at the front of the group, holding a set of keys.

“Well
ladies
– if y’all are ready, we’ve got just enough time for a brief tour before it’s time for bed.”  I looked around at the other girls and some of them seemed excited, even eager to begin the tour.  I suppose it wasn’t all that odd.  The barn we’d been living in was no suitable place for anyone, let alone a woman. But still, we weren’t
guests
at the manor.  We were the goods.

The foyer was lit up by a massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead
. 
It had three tiers; each flanked by tiny lanterns, and must have been six feet across.  The delicately etched pieces of fine glass shimmered from its own luminescence and it was
beautiful
.  The room on the right into which Julian disappeared was a cocktail lounge.
 
Directly across from that, to the left of the foyer, was the parlor. 

The parlor was mostly just a fancy sitting room.  There were lots of plush couches scattered about.  There were baskets of yarn and cloth set in several places on the floor.  Embedded into the wall over the fireplace was a shelf – and it was filled end-to-end with books.  I hadn’t held a book in my hands in nearly ten years.  The sight of them brought back memories of Mama’s naked, lifeless body - I shook them off.

“These books are here for your enjoyment.  There’s no reason to be afraid, ladies.  It’s already a known fact that all of you can, indeed, read.  It’s part of the reason you all were chosen.”  Vivian stared only at me while she said that.  It was like she knew what I’d been thinking about, but I dismissed the thought as far-fetched and ridiculous. She allowed us to spread out in the room and look at everything it had to offer.  I went straight to the book shelf and pulled a few books to hold onto for later.

After about fifteen minutes, Vivian called out, “Now don’t dawdle. We’ve still got the rest of the downstairs to view before I take you up to your rooms.”

After seeing the kitchen, dining room, and sunroom we were led up the main stairwell and onto a landing that opened up into a wide corridor.  Numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 were directed to the right; 6, 7, 8, Hannah, and myself were sent to the left.  We each found a door with our number on it, and a collective gasp whooshed throughout the house as we each opened ours.  I knew my room would be nice – that is, a big step above my stall out in the old barn.  Still, I wasn’t fully prepared for what awaited me on the other side of the Number 10 door.

The first thing I took in was the sweet, smooth smell of lavender.  It filled the air in my room and made me feel a little bit more at ease.  The room was lit up by a crystal chandelier, equally as impressive as the one downstairs, albeit much smaller. I took a deep breath and assessed the rest of my new living quarters.  A great, big bed took up about a third of the room.  The mattress sat at least three feet off the ground, and the entire thing was canopied by sheer, red fabric.  I’d never slept on something made especially for sleeping, and I was excited at the thought of that.

In another corner of the room was a cherrywood chifferobe.  Next to it was a matching chest of drawers, and mounted on the wall between the two was a mirror tall enough to see my whole body in.   A high, round table with two chairs and a plush high back chair sat in the third corner of the room.  The fourth corner was empty, but there were two doors on the adjacent walls over there.  One, I could see through the cracked door, led to a washroom. The other was fully closed and had slats built into the door panel.  I went to open it, and found it absolutely filled with dresses of all kinds – all red.  All along the floor of the closet were dainty little shoes of varying styles and height – also all red.

Rushing over to check the chest of drawers, I found rows and rows of fine lace brassieres and slips, all neatly folded and separated by color.  Hanging up in the chifferobe were exquisite corsets made of satin and lace, and few attached drawers contained matching garters and hosiery.  I made sure not to disturb anything as I closed all the doors and drawers of the furniture, then I made my way to the washroom.

The lavender aroma was strongest in there, and I sourced it as coming from a small crock sitting on a porcelain basin.  It was filled with oil and crushed flowers, and was being warmed from underneath by a small candle.  Ten or twelve other small candles were on top of the basin as well, bathing the room with a warm, golden glow.  Soft, cloud-like bubbles threatened to spill over the sides of a gleaming white clawfoot tub.  Next to the tub was a leather-clad footstool and a small vanity stand that had lavender bubbling oil and a sponge sitting atop it.

“Go on now, Number 10,”  Vivian coaxed from behind me.  Her silent entry into my domicile startled me, and I almost lost my footing whilst spinning around to see her.  She chuckled to herself and then smiled warmly at me.  I was a bit taken aback by her kind, likeable attitude, so I didn’t return the gesture.  Instead I just stood there and waited for her to clarify. 

“Get yourself cleaned up and dressed in one of your robes.  Meet back downstairs in the parlor in half an hour.  There’s a clock on the wall that says nine thirty now.  When the little arm gets to the ten, and the long –

“I can tell time, Miss Vivian.  I understand.”  I didn’t say it to be rude or ungrateful.  I guess I just wanted her to know that she didn’t have to coddle me – that I would be fine on my own to bathe myself and read the time.  Of course, she misread my intent and bit back at me with her signature brand of passive aggression.