heels like other missuses. Too late to hide what I’m doing. She could call in Marse and have me whupped for thieving right this minute.
Take this, she whisper, holding up a jar of peaches.
I shake my head. It get broke, I tell her.
She set it down, unlock the sugar cupboard, start a scooping. Where do you plan to run?
Now here’s where I reckon I should seal up my mouth, but Missus, she already done got the noose round my neck. Mexico, I reckon, I says, real soft, or the Arizona Territory.
I’m coming, she say. Like she was talking about a party.
My face is stony. Missus Brown—
That’s not my real name, she remark. I’m only called Brown the same way you are, because of him. She jerk her head upstairs, where Marse’s lying on his’n couch with his’n bottle.
Missus, you talking crazy. You can’t come nowhere along of me.
Well I can’t stay with him, she mutter, still a-scooping the sugar. If I stay in this house another month—
Listen, I start.
I’ll pick up this knife and put an end to it, she say. Her hand be on the handle, skin on bone.
What this man done to her? I look in her brown eyes. You slow me down, I says, I gotta move fast. I be a stray buck, contraband.
She smiling now, strange. But I know how to sign for him, you see, I’ve practiced. I can sign a travel pass for you with my husband’s name! We’ll go in the carriage, and if patrollers stop us, I’ll say I’m going to visit my family.
I wants to shake her real hard. You think Marse won’t lep up, soon’s he find his bed empty, ride over to Stern’s plantation and put the alarm out?
She chewing on her lip.
They come for us with dogs. They come with irons.
Damn you, she say, eyes shining wet, I can’t— She turn round, she gone into the house.
On my own in the kitchen I gets a-thinking. She ain’t bad, for a white woman. I wouldn’t much mind her coming along. Like she say, take the carriage, show a pass, get farther faster that way. If it wasn’t impossible, it be a good plan.
My mind a-hopping about like a fly. If she could sneak out in the night without Marse knowing. If he sleep long, sleep all night and all day—but no, we’uns need more of a head start than that.
Halfway through the afternoon Missus come in again. Her eyes red but she got a hold of herself.
About supper, I says, before she speak a word.
I don’t give a damn about supper.
I takes a breath, I says, You don’t care for okra, do you? I don’t say Missus.
She shrug.
Okra. It not your favorite.
Well, no. My favorite would be sweet potato, she say, the way you fix it with molasses.
I be sure to fix some sweet potato tonight, just for you.
Do, if you like, say Missus, like some girl.
You be eating that sweet potato instead of that okra.
She look at me again, hard.
Since you don’t care for okra. Specially not the way I’s fixing it tonight.
She don’t say nothing.
I can’t be sure. I don’t know how much to tell her. Marse gonna like it, though. Eat hims fill, bet you he does.
She take a step over to me. What’s in the okra?
Never you mind, I tell her. I’s the cook. Yeah?
I suppose.
So leave the cooking to me.
When she gone I get the rest of supper all fixed and then I make the okra. My heart a going boom-boom. I’s never made it till now but I know how, my pappy teach me. I done pick the stuff in the woods months back, it be always in my charm bag round my neck. There come a moment I feel bad, but I says to myself, Marse mean to leave you with this dealer tomorrow, buy some calves. I taste the okra, just touch it to my tongue to be sure, then stir in more sugar. Marse, he like hims fixings sweet.
I bring in the supper like always. While they eating I wait outside. I think I hear talking, dishes and lids, plates and glasses. After while I don’t hear nothing. Not a word, not a holler. That’s worse. I wait.
This the moment. This’s it. I feels like some blind man. This the time my life split like a peach, and
Take this, she whisper, holding up a jar of peaches.
I shake my head. It get broke, I tell her.
She set it down, unlock the sugar cupboard, start a scooping. Where do you plan to run?
Now here’s where I reckon I should seal up my mouth, but Missus, she already done got the noose round my neck. Mexico, I reckon, I says, real soft, or the Arizona Territory.
I’m coming, she say. Like she was talking about a party.
My face is stony. Missus Brown—
That’s not my real name, she remark. I’m only called Brown the same way you are, because of him. She jerk her head upstairs, where Marse’s lying on his’n couch with his’n bottle.
Missus, you talking crazy. You can’t come nowhere along of me.
Well I can’t stay with him, she mutter, still a-scooping the sugar. If I stay in this house another month—
Listen, I start.
I’ll pick up this knife and put an end to it, she say. Her hand be on the handle, skin on bone.
What this man done to her? I look in her brown eyes. You slow me down, I says, I gotta move fast. I be a stray buck, contraband.
She smiling now, strange. But I know how to sign for him, you see, I’ve practiced. I can sign a travel pass for you with my husband’s name! We’ll go in the carriage, and if patrollers stop us, I’ll say I’m going to visit my family.
I wants to shake her real hard. You think Marse won’t lep up, soon’s he find his bed empty, ride over to Stern’s plantation and put the alarm out?
She chewing on her lip.
They come for us with dogs. They come with irons.
Damn you, she say, eyes shining wet, I can’t— She turn round, she gone into the house.
On my own in the kitchen I gets a-thinking. She ain’t bad, for a white woman. I wouldn’t much mind her coming along. Like she say, take the carriage, show a pass, get farther faster that way. If it wasn’t impossible, it be a good plan.
My mind a-hopping about like a fly. If she could sneak out in the night without Marse knowing. If he sleep long, sleep all night and all day—but no, we’uns need more of a head start than that.
Halfway through the afternoon Missus come in again. Her eyes red but she got a hold of herself.
About supper, I says, before she speak a word.
I don’t give a damn about supper.
I takes a breath, I says, You don’t care for okra, do you? I don’t say Missus.
She shrug.
Okra. It not your favorite.
Well, no. My favorite would be sweet potato, she say, the way you fix it with molasses.
I be sure to fix some sweet potato tonight, just for you.
Do, if you like, say Missus, like some girl.
You be eating that sweet potato instead of that okra.
She look at me again, hard.
Since you don’t care for okra. Specially not the way I’s fixing it tonight.
She don’t say nothing.
I can’t be sure. I don’t know how much to tell her. Marse gonna like it, though. Eat hims fill, bet you he does.
She take a step over to me. What’s in the okra?
Never you mind, I tell her. I’s the cook. Yeah?
I suppose.
So leave the cooking to me.
When she gone I get the rest of supper all fixed and then I make the okra. My heart a going boom-boom. I’s never made it till now but I know how, my pappy teach me. I done pick the stuff in the woods months back, it be always in my charm bag round my neck. There come a moment I feel bad, but I says to myself, Marse mean to leave you with this dealer tomorrow, buy some calves. I taste the okra, just touch it to my tongue to be sure, then stir in more sugar. Marse, he like hims fixings sweet.
I bring in the supper like always. While they eating I wait outside. I think I hear talking, dishes and lids, plates and glasses. After while I don’t hear nothing. Not a word, not a holler. That’s worse. I wait.
This the moment. This’s it. I feels like some blind man. This the time my life split like a peach, and
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