Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (9 page)

Especially considering the fact that he was a white man – she thought she despised them – all of them.

“That better?” He asked.

“Hush up – doin’ it ain’ I?” She grumbled, hating giving in and hating also the feelings working her innards. She could feel him chuckling, hear it as well. With her face burning she leaned further against him, saying up towards his head, “Nothin’ funny, you hear? Soon as they gone, I’mo be done wit’you. I tol’you I’on like no man – don’ like bein’ this close to one, gimme the willies – don’ like it.”

He exhaled and remained silent, smiling.

“You got nothin’ t’say?” She asked as if daring him to say something more, to chuckle.

“Nope.”

“Good – don’ wan’ you sayin’ nothin’ neither. Don’ want you getting’ no ideas, thankin’ this gone change me, it ain’t – jus’ so you know.”

Broc nodded his head, “So you say.”

“Good – an’ how long where they goin’ i’s gone take t’get there?” She asked, feeling fidgety – nervous – unsettled.

“We should get there before dawn.”

“Good – ‘cause – you hot – why you hot? Makin’ me feel all warm – I’on like feelin’ this warm.” She whispered, getting more and more shaken up by the experience.

“Hmmm, feels like a cool night t’me – you aught’ah be glad for the heat. Bein' that you wet – a bit smelly, why is that?”

“I get down if you want.” She threatened.

“I ask you to get down?” He returned.

“Jus' say and I will.”

“Landsakes Asiza, I just said you wet and smelly, why - is all I ask. Can'yah just answer that?”

“No sa' I can't! I'm free white man! You can't make this here nigga say nothin' I'on wanna say! You make me get on wit' you. I ain't want to – so, wet and smelly – what you get.”

Broc shook his head, wondering if he might have lost his mind – but nothing in his thinking stirred him towards the alternative.

As for Asiza, she was starting to shiver a bit, like he said, it
was
getting cooler at night. She had been a bit chilled once the fighting was done.

Her hair was wet, the skimpy bits of clothing she wore – wet. Her skin, dewy, moist and covered in chill bumps.

His body heat was welcoming. Asiza knew she was in a better place while pressed against the back of his body.

Truth be told, it did feel good to be up against him – to warm her, she was in heaven - she just didn’t want him knowing it.

“I be glad when I go my own way – you go yours.” She fussed softly – snuggling closer, more comfortably. The cool night breeze against her chilled skin had her shivering more as they rode. She gripped him tighter, tried to move closer.

They rode for a while more, all was quiet when he said soft and low, “We goin’ north Asiza – we turn them over – then you and I – headin’ north, where you’ah be safe and free.”

She was surprised that she'd been dozing off when his softly spoken words reached her hearing. It took her a moment to make sense of them. Another quiet moment passed with her considering his words, “I ain’ decide yet where I’m goin’ – wanna fin’ my mama.”

“Your mama’s gone Asiza… it’s just you and me now, you got me – we be all right.”

“Tol’ you, don’ want you. You 'bout one hard-headed man – I mean what I say.”

He patted her small hand that clasped the other over his midriff. “You’ah get use to the idea soon enough, I can wait.”

Asiza exhaled, tired of telling him what was going to be and what was not. She didn’t want to, but she laid the side of her head against his back. Since he was riding, leading – she’d take advantage of this peace and quiet to rest – just this once. She would never admit it in a hundred years, but it felt good to lean against someone strong who was in charge, for just a moment. She was still free – but having this man lead the way so she could close her eyes and rest – it was nice. She still didn’t trust him, not entirely – but he had proven himself – a bit anyway. She wouldn’t think about what all of that meant – not right now. For that moment, she just wanted to rest her burning eyes – just a little bit. It was hard, going from being someone’s slave, to being free and having to think and plan for one’s self – living for today and always worrying about tomorrow.

Free meant, where to live?

Always being on the run.

Free meant – get your own food.

Always having to be the one to hunt for it.

Free meant – standing alone.

Always having to think of what to do next?

Free meant, get your own clothing.

Free meant - deciding how to live.

Free …meant - who to trust?

Also, the most tiring of all – free meant you would have to protect yourself. Deep sleep and rest through the night, no more, not when you Negro and free.

Consequently, it also meant knowing what to do with your life in a world that said – you have no right to be free, and no sense of how to be. Her mind was always filled with thoughts of what next? For now, she was dozing off to sleep – caused by the movement of the horse beneath her, and the feel of the strong large body she leaned against, gathering heat – and feeling safe. Safe enough to doze off and let him lead.

Asiza would never admit it in a hundred years – running to be completely free – wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Especially if you had no clue of what to do, once you were. It was a different world, taken over by those who had also taken their freedom.

She was tired… bone tired.

Days of having to run constantly for your life and being on the go all alone and fear of being found while resting had caught up to her. If that weren't enough, nights of bad dreams woke her. Going through bouts of stress, tears and frustration - spending many quiet moments asking the Lord, why? Having to fight and face death thinking each time, this would be it. Pretending to be brave when in truth it was hatred and anger that fueled her and also… drained her.

Killing took a lot out of one.

All of it, every bit of it seemed to come down on her at once. Soon as she gave herself a moment to truly rest, all that she’d been juggling in the air, came down heavily upon her. Her body was not her own. Or was it her mind? All of a sudden, she seemed to be trapped there.

Something took hold of her and wouldn’t let go. She felt time was passing while she was more asleep than awake. It was an indescribable feeling of a heavy burden - some kind of sluggishness that felt like she’d been drugged. Asiza felt as if she were outside of herself. Sitting way up high in a tree, looking at herself, watching herself sleep and waiting. Her hearing registered bits of what was happening around her, gave her pieces of scenes that her brain recorded. Yet, it all seemed to come to her as if in a dream. In her dream, she kept saying to herself, yelling at herself.

‘Asiza! Wake up! Gotta go! Wake up! Gotta go! They gone catch you! They gone get you! Wake up Asiza – wake up!

Wha’s wrong wit’you girl… wake up… wake – up!’

No matter how she tried, her eyes would not open enough to fully wake her up. She even dreamed that she might be dead, that she was already in the afterlife and just didn’t know it. Even in her sleep, in her dreams, she was afraid – because she couldn’t wake up. She was panicking, crying in her sleep. She thought that she had maybe sat up only to slump back down – with the sleep pulling on her so, holding onto her so, she couldn’t break free. She cried, whimpered and cried some more, dreaming,
‘I’m dead Lawd, don’ died.’

But the Lord seemed to cradle her, soothe her, caress her, bathe her hot body and tell her,
‘Not alone anymore Asiza, no not ever again alone… you res’ – I take care of you. Ah, my sweet, precious Asiza… I take care of you.’

Surely it was the Lord’s voice saying those things to her. Surely in her death it was the Lord’s tender lips touching her brow – the way her mama’s lips once did. The Lord made her feel that wonderful sensation of being…loved. The way her mama loved her, loved them all.

“Mama… what I'mo do mama – what I'mo do? I kill'em mama, I kill'em all – 'cause they gone hurt me.” She whimpered, feeling sorry for herself, because now – she couldn’t wake up, couldn’t get up.

An answer came to her, but it was not from her mama, but from the Lord again, who said so softly, so gently –
‘Your mama gone now – but you got me… shhhh, you got me. Nobody gone hurt you ‘Seeza... not anymore, shhh – not anymore, you got me.’

Asiza sat up with her eyes wide open, looking around. She felt a tad bit drunk, but she was awake. She saw, and smelled, the burning tallow of the candle at the same time. It sat across the dark room she seemed to be in.

Her mind was a complete wash – drawing nothing but a blank. All she could do was sit still and look around her, trying to figure out what was happening. There were thin strips of light shining down from above, as if through cracks in the ceiling – with dust fairies and specks dancing before her.

It was a strange, dark and dusty room.

Her neck felt floppy and weak when she turned her head this way and that – looking at everything, still dazed and lost.

She finally looked down to see that she was sitting in the middle of a big tick mattress that lay on a floor.

Covering her legs was a threadbare sheet and also different, against her skin, a thin chemise that was soft, clean and delicate. It seemed months ago that she’d worn one of these, not since her days at Clover Grove.  

She noticed something else, reaching up, she felt her thick hair. It was clean and parted down the center with two long braids hanging down over her breasts to her waist, stopping just before her lap. She held the ends of both in each hand, gently stroking them, trying to get her brain to think, to remember. She didn’t get it, because not only was her hair clean, but her skin was too. She felt as if she’d had a bath but didn’t remember giving herself one. For that matter, nor had she a clue as to where she was. “Lawd… what done happen, where I’m at?” She asked softly, as if he would answer her. He didn’t, not right away.

She had to pee.

Looking around the room, she spotted a chamber pot. Crawling to it, she saw it was empty, so squatted on it and started peeing. Done… she saw a bucket of fresh water and a cup nearby. She crawled to it, brought it back to the chamber pot. Sitting on it she used the cup – dipping it in the bucket of fresh cool water and then poured it on her privates to clean herself – using her other hand to make sure and wash herself good. Once – twice, three times – front and back the way her mama had taught her and her sisters to be clean.

Next, kneeling by the bucket of fresh water, she splashed and washed her face, her finger tips going into her ears and behind them. She cupped water, sucked it into her mouth, squishing it about through her teeth and then leaned over the chamber pot and spit into it. She did that a few times as well.

Coming away… there were folded cloths stacked on a small bench. She took one and dried her face, her hands and her private place. Her stomach growled.

Above – a trap door opened, flooding the dark room with light. Covering her eyes, squinting against the brightness of it, Asiza tried to look through her fingers to see who was coming. While she hadn't a clue as to what was going on, not for a moment did she feel fear. That was due to it being the big man descending and carrying something.

“Ah, you awake. Hungry?”

Her stomach growled again, no way to deny that she was.

“I use that pot.” She said, “Need dumpin’.”

“Get back on that bed, I’ah see to it.”

Like a child, she scrambled back to the bed obediently.

In that small room, he looked huge. He couldn’t stand his full height, he had to keep his head and neck bent. Once he made it to the edge of the mattress, he dropped to his knees and in his hand was a plate of food. A biscuit, a corn cob, a potato, dandelion greens and half of a rabbit, her mouth watered. “Get all of that eaten.” He softly instructed. She accepted it and went to eating with no hesitation. “Where we at?” She asked, her mouth full.

“Farmhouse – under a hay barn – runaways come here and hide until the farmer takes’em the rest of the journey to a boat dock – the boat take’em up north – to be free.” He spoke gently, watching her eat - sitting with his legs crossed while she devoured all that was on the plate.

“Where they at? That boy, his girl an' baby?”

“On their way to being free.” He answered simply.

He reached over to feel her forehead – she reared back, her eyes wide. “What’you doin’?” She asked, getting some of her old self back.

“Checkin’ you – see if you okay.”

“Jus’fine
thank
you.”

Broc exhaled, “So - you – are. Lord, you the stubbornness woman I ever met. How long is it gone be before you accept me?”

“Em…” She grunted, and asked instead, “How long we been here?” She discarded his query about him.

“Four days.” He answered simply.

“Em – you didle me?”

Broc’s head rolled back, and he barked with laughter. A moment later, after he calmed himself, he answered, “No ma’am, I have not didled you in the least. You have my word as a gentleman.”