Free Men by Katy Simpson Smith

Author:Katy Simpson Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-11-17T16:00:00+00:00

March 12–17, 1788

Winna

MY MASTER’S SPANISH wife is stretched beneath an open bedroom window, her fat feet propped on the sill so when the wind comes it goes straight down her skirts. I wait in the door until she decides to see me. My husband, who was not of my picking, has been gone more than a week. Someone finally thought to fetch me. She raises a hand, fidgets her fingers. I come over, stepping around the noisy spot where the floor is weak, and sit on the stool that puts my head about at a level with her raised ankles. She plops them on my lap.

I’m the good kind of slave, the kind that doesn’t talk too much or think. I start digging in, my thumb fiddling against the rough ball of her foot. I pull her skin hard enough so it won’t tickle. The bottom of her toes have caps on them, husks or horns that come to a fine edge. When she’s off on her topic and not paying attention, I run my fingers along them because she can’t feel. This time it’s my husband.

“José’s already had a letter from the Creeks; not there.”

“Mm.”

“Out nine hundred dollars, José. He’s a strong man, yes? Which one is he?”

I think of some way to describe him. I don’t think she’d know what a handsome black man is. “Six foot,” I say, “and then some.”

“Scars?”

“Not that you’d know to notice.”

“It does not matter to me, him missing. But José, of course.”

“Me neither.”

“He was a fool to lose the horse. Came right back to where it should. So we know, without a horse, either he is dead or run off. The trail is not that dangerous, so my guess is he went shoo. He say nothing to his wife?”

“He’s not much for talking.”

“Of course.” She frowns, then giggles and jerks a foot away.

I say sorry and lift it up again.

“You ever do this for him?”

I stop, my fingers laced between her toes.

“No, I think not. I wonder why a man run off and leave his lady, and here you go. You don’t serve him well.”

“I served him two babies.” I move up to her ankles, ringed in fine black hair.

“But love, no, that’s not in the bed.”

I cannot tell a white woman, however swarthy, that I do not love my husband, even if it isn’t true. “We get along fine,” I say.

“Mm, yes,” and she closes her eyes, dropping her fat round head to one shoulder. “You want to ask about José, but you are shy.”

I am not shy. I am very practical. I started off in the fields and I worked my way to the kitchen. And then into the house and up the stairs until I got here. The Spanish lady blabbers, but she doesn’t whip, not much. I don’t mind hearing about another country, or even my own country, because whoever it belongs to now surely won’t keep it long. This woman, her head lolling around her neck like an orange about to drop, can name her kings as fast as she can name her husbands.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.