The Book of Night Women (36 page)

—Me . . . me not ’fraid of you.

—Then you is a friggin’ fool. You want me to give you something to ’fraid of? You think ’cause you make woman bleed to death, you is bad? You think me kill Circe sake o’ you?

—What you talkin’ ’bout? Everybody done know the bitch try to kill me!

—You, you, you. Circe couldn’t kill flea! That be her damn problem from the first day. All mouth and no act. Circe never try to kill you, she couldn’t even stay in her hut, sake of the Johnny-jumper blood you shed in it. You, on the other hand, was a different story. Me know that from the day me walk in there and see you with the cutlass.

Lilith stun.

—From the day me see what you do that boy, me look ’pon Circe and know that me rope in the wrong nigger. Beside, the bitch was goin’ be a turncoat nigger—you hear her youself. No, better she did gone and gone quick.

—Circe never try to kill me?

—Circe was goin’ frig up the struggle with her mouth. You know how long we waitin’? How long we plottin’? We planning this since 1796, five year after Saint-Domingue free itself. Before even that!

—Circe never try to kill me?

—Wise up, woman! Circe was goin’ tell the massa ’bout you and the whole o’ we. Me take one look ’pon you blood-up face and know which woman me did want.

—And you make it look...

—All the better for the struggle.

Callisto mouth stiff but her eye wide open.

—You is a wicked bitch! Lilith say. A wicked, wicked bitch. She was me mama! She never set no Sasabonsam ’pon me. Is was you. Is was always you!

—You need to know which side you on—

—You not on nobody side! Your side goin’ to hell. You worse than she ever be, you dutty stinkin’ bitch! Me hate you.

—Look ’pon me good. No hate you can bring that me can’t handle. You think you bad? You know who the pussycloth you taking step with?

—You don’t know ’bout—

—Trust me, fool, there be nothing about you that I don’t know. You know why I make them hang that other girl, Francine, when me know full well that is you set the fire? Homer say.

—Is . . . is not me—

—Quit the damn foolishness, idiot! The girl was running errand for the mistress. The mistress tell me that herself, how she wish she had one slave as sensible as Homer ’cause that idiot Francine don’t know herb from weed. She tell me that some morning she send Francine out but all she can do is pick fruit and don’t know nothing ’bout bush. Poor girl, think she be somebody ’cause she ride carriage like Gorgon. The mistress send her to me so that me can teach her what to pick and how to brew it. Time o’ the fire, she just left Montpelier with some herb tea for the mistress’ nerves, so me know is not she do no burning. Me give her the tea meself! You think is arsehole me push out of when me born? Look yah, girl, you better start acting right or you goin’ drop down dead before me even touch you.

—You could have tell on me. Why make them kill that girl if... if is me do it?

—Because that was the best she could do for the struggle. She not cut out for nothing else. But you, you different. Me always know, but me sure now, after you kill four white people just like that.

—Me never mean to—Jesus Christ, you think me did mean to?

—All the better. Don’t come talk to me ’bout Circe when inside you blacker than pitch. You can’t even control it. That be why we goin’ use it. You hear ’bout Saint-Domingue, Lilith? That be the all-negro republic. Nigger want freedom and they take it. Nigger want land and they take it. Nigger want blood and they take that too.

—Nowhere no name so.

—Me learn you to read so read, you fool. Saint-Domingue nigger no better, no worse than we. No, no. They better, they grab the whip and whip the backra. All my life white man boot in my back. Well, time it done, don’t make—

—You don’t know what you talking—

—I say, no more white man boot goin’ be in my back again, you hear me? Me ever tell you ’bout me pickneys? You want to know what happen to them?

—No.

—The boy, he get send to Bermuda, then Turks and Caicos to dig for salt. The boy never strong, so they kill him. Work him to death. Want to hear what nigger from Clarendon say ’bout me daughter? Didn’t even reach sixteen birthday before she make me a grandmother. Then she make the pickney a goddamn orphan two weeks later. Who reckon a girl could live after two hundred fifty lash, eh? A whole week she live, my girl. A whole w . . . But not even she strong enough to withstand whipping one week after a baby. Nigger say she didn’t even have blood left to bleed.

—Homer.

—How far, Lilith? How far backra must ram up you pussyhole before you see that he fuckin’ you?

—Tell her, Homer. Tell her.

—Shut up, Callisto. Who goin’ get kill next, eh? Who goin’ dead? Me? You? Enough, you hear me, eeeeenough. Nigger from Saint-Domingue better than we, them woman have sense and them man have balls. Them don’t take nothing from no devil no more. Our time now.

—How you can do anything? This is nigger life. What you one can do?

—Chile, is not me one. Not me one at all. Anyway, me done talk. Don’t think you not in this, woman, because I know ’bout you. And if you don’t want me to start talking ’bout that fire again, you better get your nigger backside to the cave next time me call meeting.

—What you need me for? You say things planning nigh five year now.

—Because you still don’t seem to know what in you. But me know. Callisto know, even Gorgon know—that be why she ’fraid of you these days. Don’t act like you don’t see.

Homer turn to leave, but then turn back to Lilith.

—Robert Quinn still out there beating and killing niggers. He go to Spanish Town to buy two fresh nigger only yesterday. You remember that, she say.

Them leave her. Lilith set about preparing the lunch. Massa Robert goin’ come back for a lunch and a smile, she tell herself. She goin’ get some beef and some potato and make a soup that the Irishman like. The pot set to boil and Homer voice come back to the kitchen.
Robert Quinn out there beating and killing niggers
, she say. Lilith try to blow the word out of her head. Lilith grab potato from the sack and cuss when her hand get stuck. The more she pull, the more her hand stuck until she scream, Goddamn raas cloth! And pull so hard that the sack tear and potato fall out and run across the floor. One roll to a dark corner of the room. Roll right up to where the woman foot be.

Lilith still at first. Is the first time she seeing the tall dark woman in the day and she know for sure now that is not Hippolyta. Lilith frighten a little, but angry more.

—Who you want me to kill now? Who you want me to kill now, bitch? Maybe me should kill meself ? You find that agreeable? Eh?
Eh?
Lilith grab a plate off the kitchen counter and throw at the dark woman in the corner. She disappear before the glass fly into the wall and shatter up into pieces. Lilith try to cry but fear and rage well up in her and she shudder so bad that she near have a fit.

Lilith brushing the shatter plate into a piece of paper. She sit down on the floor and feel the heaviness come down on her. Mayhaps more spirit was goin’ visit her before the day done. Mayhaps a burnin’ pickney and a burnin’ young’un and a burnin’ Matraca, and the three burn down into one that wait for the john crow to take it.

She can now tell what sorta mood Robert Quinn in just by the hop and drag of him foot when he come home. Maybe she shouldn’t be so happy to see him and maybe she should punch her chest where her heart be so that it stop jump every time he step through the parlor. He pull off him shirt and rub him porcelain belly. Maybe he be white man first and Robert Quinn second. What can a white man be in the colonies but the enemy of all negro flesh? From they takes us from the Africa; who they don’t kill by the work, they kill by the whip. How can a white man smile mean any good? What it mean when he turn you over in bed so that him face meet your face? That he want to see your pleasure and your loving and your tears or that he can’t stand to see the scars on you back that he cause? What it mean when he hold you gentle-like and whisper word that not be word and can’t eat unless you eat too and promise to teach you to ride? What it mean when lass turn into luv, then lovey, then Lilith?

Robert Quinn step into the kitchen and the whole house hear the crunch.—What the . . . , he say and pick up piece of the plate, piece that have pattern on it.

—What’s the meaning of this? he say. Lilith jump up from the floor real quick. She rub her hands and start to step back the more he step forward.

—Lilith, what’s this?

—Me never mean to do it on purpose, sah, me never mean to do it on purpose. Lilith still stepping back, Robert Quinn still stepping forward.

—Don’t . . . Out with it at once. At once!

—Lawd o’ massy, sah. I broke a plate, sah.

—You did what? Lilith jump. Robert Quinn back her into a wall. You . . . fuckin’ . . . have ye got butter sticks fer fingers!

—No, massa, me sorry, massa. Don’t kill me now, massa! Don’t kill me and go buy new me in Spanish Town!

Robert Quinn stop. A new Quinn come over him face, one she never see before. He look away from her.

—The brown or the blue one? The brown or the blue, damn you!

—The brown one, Lilith say.

Quinn sigh.—Oh, good, good, he say. He rest him hands on her shoulder. —Didn’t mean to give you such a fright, lassie. But, those Wedgwood plates are the last of my mother’s in me possession. Would break my heart if I were to lose one. Robert Quinn kiss her on the forehead.

—Fix us some supper, lovey, he say.

 

 

Word was that Miss Isobel
was grumbling about how Lilith take up with Robert Quinn. She’d been grumbling about it for a good while now. She don’t like it one bit. That be exactly what she say when she summon Lilith to her room two day later.

—I don’t like it one bit, Lilith, she say.—I suppose you’re his chère amie now?

—Ma’am?

—Stop play fool to catch wise. You forget that I grow up here too. Me know what kinda tomfoolery you niggers up to.

Lilith hear Miss Isobel chat like nigger all the time, but never on purpose.—There’s nothing under the sun that you tar babies can fool me with. Can’t catch Harry catch him shirt, eh?

Lilith look at Miss Isobel, perplex.

—Or should I say massa?

—Mistress?

—Oh, please, Lilith. Perhaps it’s better that the times are such as they are, I daresay we almost sisters in our purpose. But you’re Quinn’s woman now. See what happens when a nigger remembers her place? See how virtue is rewarded? Mind you, virtue is a land I have no wish to visit. Tell me, since ’tis only through trick of fate that we’re not sisters, does he fill you?

—Sorry, mistress, me don’t understand—

—Oh, come now, Lilith. You niggerwomen are so lucky, having as you do
le petit mort
without having to marry first.

Lilith still perplex.

—Oh, for heaven’s sake, imbecile, does the Irishman please you with his loving? Does he have a real brute between his legs? Do your toes curl? Do you take him in the mouth?

—Mistress!

—Please save me the outrage, Lilith. You and I are colonial creatures, different though you certainly are. For your information, I do not fool myself as other women do. As for you and I, we’re cut from a more blunt cloth. At least I am so. Now I insist that you tell me. I shall not go into marriage with Mr. Wilson without fair warning of the male sex.

This perplex Lilith more. Homer never lie and Homer say Miss Isobel and Massa Humphrey be fuckin’ up to the day before Coulibre burn down. Maybe this be another white woman game. Say one thing but mean another. Black woman game too.

—Is he enough for you, I said. I mean, you niggers with your bottomless cunts. He must be rather, ahem, mighty for you not to swallow him up.

—Nigger cho-cho not bigger than white woman cho-cho, mistress, I don’t reckon.

—Who was speaking of size? But you darkies have your ways of bewitching our men. I have already accepted that when I marry, I will have to share whatever hangs below his belt. How can a lady compete with your bestial ways?

—I don’t know what that—

—Trouble not yourself, Lilith. I daresay, though, I’m glad I’m a Creole girl. A little of your black magic has rubbed off on me as well. Me Obeah him, you know.

Lilith never know one set of word could stun her twice. For one instant she think a third woman was in the room, another woman talking to her that sound black. But it was Miss Isobel opening her white lips so that a black voice come out. Then there be what she saying, thing that nigger even in them deepest blackness don’t talk ’bout in daylight.

—Me say me Obeah him, Miss Isobel say again.

—Miss Isobel, you not to be messing with them things.

—And why not? Seems to work fine for you niggers. Works fine and dandy. I told you, Lilith, that’s why you can fool people like the massa but you can’t fool me. I know all about your ways.

—So you go to Obeah woman, Miss Isobel?

—I am already wise to their ways. I should have collected it in a jar when we women have our times of the month, and mixed it in his soup. Not that I would ever do such a thing. Not that it would work. Somebody—

—Who, ma’am?

—I fail to see how that’s your business. Someone suggested I sweat him. Can you believe it? Of course, I knew all about it and only pretended shock, but certainly I was not about to wear food in my . . . my regions and then have it cooked. So much for Obeah. Black magic indeed. Anyway, Lilith, I must insist that you come and attend to me at once.

—Yes’m, Lilith say.

—I will arrange it today.

—Yes’m, Lilith say.

Not even two evening pass before Robert Quinn see red. That happen the very next morning. Lilith didn’t hear or see, but Homer did. Homer laughing when Lilith come into the kitchen. Lilith was still plenty afraid of Homer but wasn’t about to act that way. She walk up right beside her.