A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton - Michael R. Phillips [42]
“Then why was she there?”
“She wanted to stay. She was getting paid now to be the master’s housekeeper. And if I’d have stayed, I’d have gotten paid too. She tried to get me to stay and work for Master McSimmons for pay like she was doing. If a black person works for a white now, he’s gotta get paid just like a white person would.”
“So that must mean … that means you’re free too, Mayme.”
“Yes, that’s what I said was exciting,” I said. “I’m not a runaway, Miss Katie. I’m free!”
Katie took in my words with a puzzled expression that gradually changed to worry. At first I didn’t understand it. I thought she’d be happy and excited too. She was starting to see a little more of what it meant, but in a different way than I was seeing it.
There was a long silence. When she next spoke, her voice was soft and I could tell she was nearly in tears.
“Do you want to leave Rosewood, Mayme?” she said.
Now I realized why she had reacted so strange.
“Oh … no, Miss Katie. That’s not why I was saying it. I just wanted you to know, that’s all.”
“But … you’re free. Don’t you want to go somewhere else?”
“No, Miss Katie,” I said. “Where else would I go?”
“You could go back there.”
“This is my home now, with you. I want to be here.”
It was quiet a few seconds.
Then suddenly a new thought struck her and Katie’s face brightened.
“Then we don’t need to pretend you’re my slave anymore,” she said. “You can be just like me.”
“Except that this is your plantation,” I said. “I don’t have anything but …”
I remembered the handkerchief. I jumped out of bed and went and got it where I’d set it on the dresser, and brought it and showed it to her. Then I told her about the eleven cents and all about my ride into Oakwood.
“I bought this,” I said. “It’s the first time I’ve ever bought something in my life.”
“It’s pretty, Mayme,” said Katie.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come right back,” I said.
“It’s all right. I’m glad you could buy it. It makes me happy to know that you’re free. I was just worried at first that you wanted to leave.”
“No, I don’t want to leave, Miss Katie.”
“Maybe I should pay you too. I should have given you one of the gold coins.
“No, Miss Katie!” I laughed. “I don’t work for you. We’re just friends trying to make out the best we can together.”
“Well, if we’re equals now,” Katie went on, “don’t you think it’s best if you called me just plain Katie instead of Miss Katie.”
“We’re not equals, Miss Katie,” I said. “The slaves have been set free, that’s all. But you’re still white and I’m black.”
“What’s being white or black got to do with it?” she said.
“I don’t know, Miss Katie. But it’d seem funny just to call you by your name. I still gotta show you respect.”
“Why should you show me any more respect than I show you?”
“ ’Cause we ain’t the same. And ’cause this is your house.”
“No, we’re not the same. But neither of us is any better than the other.”
“It just sounds respectful to say Miss Katie,” I said.
“But we should show each other the same respect. You don’t want me calling you Miss Mayme, do you?”
I couldn’t help laughing as she said it.
“No,” I said. “That would sound wrong.”
“If you don’t call me just Katie, then,” said Katie, “I’m going to call you Miss Mayme … or maybe even Miss Mary Ann or Miss Jukes.”
We laughed some more.
Neither of us had any idea that in the next room Aleta hadn’t quite gone all the way to sleep after all and was lying awake listening to us.
I don’t know what she thought about all Katie had just said. Katie couldn’t see it as clearly as I could, but she had almost become like a mama to the poor little girl. Aleta hung on her every word and followed her around and did what she said, almost as if she was her mama.
And I think seeing that Katie and I loved each other was maybe starting to get inside her skin.
BEDTIME STORIES
23
AS KATIE AND I LAY THERE IN MY BED, IT GOT quiet for a while.
“I miss our reading and story times, Mayme,” said Katie after a bit.
“Me too,” I said.
“I’m glad we can help Aleta, because this is horrible for her,