eye, I lie down beside her and draw up some kind of wanting. It is during these times that I feel we are not completely apart. And there’s no room for the Bible between us either. There’s no room for the Bible when I feel her palms clutching my back and pulling me to her, when I can feel her wanting something beyond order and the smooth functioning of our household.
But by and large, I feel more connected to the horses I’ve raised, the negroes I’ve owned, and the accounts I’ve tended than to my wife and most of my children. I build a world and they live in it, knowing nothing of its geology. Protected and innocent while I do the work of turning the crank, finding the necessary momentum wherever and however I can. They don’t want to know the details, only the results.
I first laid eyes on Mena in late March of 1796. I remember the year because that’s when Thompson told me his big news. He was doing some final buying for his boys and we’d planned our visits to overlap as usual.
Charleston was in full bloom. You could smell the jasmine even in Auction Square. I had been at the market all morning and was about to leave to meet the old man for lunch when I saw Mena standing in a line along the brick wall that ran down the far side of the yard. She was in a raggedy group from a rogue ship so the prices were low.
Thompson had always warned me to stay away from direct imports, insisting that countryborn were much more manageable than saltwater. And these few did look pretty poorly, scuffling amongst themselves and keeping their backs to us. Mena was the only one facing forward. She stood perfectly still. Tall and thin with her hair cropped close.
Idle curiosity really because I was shopping for men. But then I saw the flat net of muscles across the top of her back and the smooth curve at the shoulder. And she stood evenly on both feet without cocking a hip like so many do.
Then she turned to look at me. You would have thought she felt my eyes on her. She didn’t glance at me and then away like most of them. Mena gazed at me even and steady until I began to wonder what it was she saw.
As the line moved forward towards the block, she took only as many steps as needed to keep her place, trailing her fingers along the wall, coming to a stop when the rest did. All without ever taking her eyes off me. After long enough of that, I had to look away.
I was relieved when I bumped into Edgar, a friend of my brother David, even though he stood there talking at me for a full five minutes without realizing that the smoke from his cigar was drifting into my face and I was not actually listening. I acted as if I saw someone I knew so I could walk away from him.
As soon as there were enough men between us so Edgar could no longer see me, I turned back to the block. Mena was the next one to go and still watching me. She did not quit even after they got her up there. The whole situation gained momentum as the men around me began to comment.
Even the auctioneer noticed and he started in with a familiarity that made my skin crawl. I must have lifted my hand just to put a stop to the whole thing. I don’t know what made me do it and I regretted it instantly. But to say I had not meant to buy Mena makes me seem as if I did not know my own mind.
Edgar stood there, glancing back and forth from her to me, smiling as if he’d discovered some secret.
“I thought you said you came down here to buy a few men. Only men. Must be something else you’re hunting,” he said, letting his voice trail off as one corner of his mouth lifted.
Without even thinking, I told him I planned to lease her out. As soon as I said it, I knew it was a good idea.
After signing for Mena, I went straight to meet Thompson for lunch. He had one restaurant he preferred. Said he wanted gumbo stewed from a roux as dark as the men who cooked and served it.
I was late and he hadn’t been able to wait. He sat in the sun by the window, staring down into an
But by and large, I feel more connected to the horses I’ve raised, the negroes I’ve owned, and the accounts I’ve tended than to my wife and most of my children. I build a world and they live in it, knowing nothing of its geology. Protected and innocent while I do the work of turning the crank, finding the necessary momentum wherever and however I can. They don’t want to know the details, only the results.
I first laid eyes on Mena in late March of 1796. I remember the year because that’s when Thompson told me his big news. He was doing some final buying for his boys and we’d planned our visits to overlap as usual.
Charleston was in full bloom. You could smell the jasmine even in Auction Square. I had been at the market all morning and was about to leave to meet the old man for lunch when I saw Mena standing in a line along the brick wall that ran down the far side of the yard. She was in a raggedy group from a rogue ship so the prices were low.
Thompson had always warned me to stay away from direct imports, insisting that countryborn were much more manageable than saltwater. And these few did look pretty poorly, scuffling amongst themselves and keeping their backs to us. Mena was the only one facing forward. She stood perfectly still. Tall and thin with her hair cropped close.
Idle curiosity really because I was shopping for men. But then I saw the flat net of muscles across the top of her back and the smooth curve at the shoulder. And she stood evenly on both feet without cocking a hip like so many do.
Then she turned to look at me. You would have thought she felt my eyes on her. She didn’t glance at me and then away like most of them. Mena gazed at me even and steady until I began to wonder what it was she saw.
As the line moved forward towards the block, she took only as many steps as needed to keep her place, trailing her fingers along the wall, coming to a stop when the rest did. All without ever taking her eyes off me. After long enough of that, I had to look away.
I was relieved when I bumped into Edgar, a friend of my brother David, even though he stood there talking at me for a full five minutes without realizing that the smoke from his cigar was drifting into my face and I was not actually listening. I acted as if I saw someone I knew so I could walk away from him.
As soon as there were enough men between us so Edgar could no longer see me, I turned back to the block. Mena was the next one to go and still watching me. She did not quit even after they got her up there. The whole situation gained momentum as the men around me began to comment.
Even the auctioneer noticed and he started in with a familiarity that made my skin crawl. I must have lifted my hand just to put a stop to the whole thing. I don’t know what made me do it and I regretted it instantly. But to say I had not meant to buy Mena makes me seem as if I did not know my own mind.
Edgar stood there, glancing back and forth from her to me, smiling as if he’d discovered some secret.
“I thought you said you came down here to buy a few men. Only men. Must be something else you’re hunting,” he said, letting his voice trail off as one corner of his mouth lifted.
Without even thinking, I told him I planned to lease her out. As soon as I said it, I knew it was a good idea.
After signing for Mena, I went straight to meet Thompson for lunch. He had one restaurant he preferred. Said he wanted gumbo stewed from a roux as dark as the men who cooked and served it.
I was late and he hadn’t been able to wait. He sat in the sun by the window, staring down into an
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