MOSANA (THE UNION) - PART XIV
EPISODE 14
Of course, he’d be married. It had been ten bloody years. I should have been married, if I hadn’t been hung up over a man that had moved on without me!
Stupid, stupid, stupid girl! What did you expect, that he’d wait for you? That he’d hold all those words you said to each other and nurse sweet hope in his heart that you’d meet again? Ha! I was such a fool. He was a man after all. He had needs.
Well, damn him and his needs to hell and back!
I brought the knife down violently and missed my forefinger by a hairsbreadth.
“Lil’ girl. You tryin’ ta get yo’self killed?”
I ignored Sue and kept chopping the onions like they had been convicted of murder and sentenced to death by beheading. Plus, it was an excuse to let my tears run free. Let Sue think I was reacting to the onions.
I hated the fact that I was crying. It made me feel weak. It was a strange yet familiar feeling. And that was because it reminded me of my father. The last time I felt this weak and helpless was under his tyranny. And it brought back all the old feelings of loathing.
I’m married, Mosana. It echoed like a broken record, tuned backwards.
I had spent the night thinking that my trip to the South was a waste. I had come to find Flint, but I wasn’t prepared for this. It had already been a week and I hadn’t yet written one letter to the Society. I had nothing to report on, as it didn’t seem like the MacGregors were into anything fishy when it came to bounty hunting. They were regular slaveowners who worked their slaves like every other slaveowner in the South. Still, I had to write to let them know I was okay, and to ask news of Andrea and Fiona in Wilmington. I knew that once I mentioned the station in Wilmington, they would be able to tell me if they had arrived safely or not. Not to mention Mel and Meg and how they were faring…
But Flint’s news had numbed me, and I wandered about my duties with no energy, paying no attention to the activities of the people around me as I usually did. I answered when called, spoke when spoken to, performed my duties without question and through it all, kept my head bowed.
Life in the MacGregor household was busy, but quiet. I woke up at the crack of dawn, and joined Sue in the kitchen, along with 3 other slaves assigned to the kitchen, all women except for one man, Matt. He was responsible to chopping the firewood and any heavy lifting. Life was easy; at least, as easy as it could be for any slave in 1855. I didn’t have much contact with the MacGregors, except for when it was my turn to serve them in the house. I hated it when I had to do this, because I had to watch Flint eat with them at the dining table, with Mr. MacGregor and his daughter, Angelia. I also had to stand in the corner and wait till they had all eaten, so that I could take the plates away as soon as they were done. It was only then I could have my own dinner.
He didn’t let me serve him though. As soon as I had finished with Mr. MacGregor and Angelia, he would take the dishes and serving spoon from me to serve himself. Once, I heard Angelia openly protest against it.
“Let the girl do it,” she said.
Did she just call me “girl”? One look at Angelia told me that I had more years on her than I would care to admit.
Flint spoke back. “I can do it, Angelia.”
“But that’s what she’s here for. Let the slave work, Joshua.”
“It’s okay, ‘Lia.”
Pain shot through my heart as I heard him shorten her name. He was the one that started calling me “Mo” back in the Russell Manor. I used to joke that he was the only one that could call me that back then.
Guess he’s shortening another woman’s name now, my brain commented snidely.
I looked at him, trying to see if he even knew how much I was hurting. Angelia caught me looking, and I had to lower my eyes.
Flint tried to talk to me after the night he told me he was married, but I always had somewhere to be. I didn’t think there was anything to talk about. As the days passed, I tried to make my peace with it. I didn’t hate him for taking an opportunity when he saw it, but that didn’t mean it hurt less. I watched him with her, and it seemed he was okay with the arrangement. He didn’t look like anyone forced him into the situation he was in.
Because of his position with the MacGregors, Flint was our overseer. Which helped me make sense of our first encounter. He was the one that was called upon when we were first bought, which meant that he was in charge of us all. On any other day, I would have been thrilled at a black overseer, but because that black overseer was Flint, it didn’t make me any happier. It means I saw him everywhere and act like we had never met before. We had agreed to keep that tiny fact between us. He didn’t seem domineering or order me around, but then he didn’t seem domineering to anyone on the plantation either. Whenever he had tasks for me to do; which didn’t happen often because I followed a strict routine, he always asked me, instead of commanding me.
It shouldn’t have, but it pissed me off, because it felt like he was trying to make up for marrying someone else. Well, I didn’t need him to patronize me, or try to fix it. What’s done was done.
Now that I had found Flint, my initial fervor for wanting to return to the South was gone. It was a selfish thing to feel, because I knew the Society still needed help, but I couldn’t help feeling that way. Still, I didn’t want to opt out because they needed me. Needed us. I thought about Meg and Mel, and knew that if I gave up now, they would lose their liver too. So I stayed. Although when it came to bounty hunter gossip, the MacGregor house was drier than parched corn.
I was able to write to the Society during my first weeks in the MacGregor’s household. Because Mr. MacGregor didn’t think his slaves were capable of anything, I was able to post it like a real letter in the marketplace when I followed Sue to get groceries. In my letter, I reported that I couldn’t get anything out of the MacGregors because they were up to nothing. I asked if I could leave (escape, that is. It would have been easy to do) since there was nothing to report on. I wanted to know if they had a more interesting settlement they wanted me to penetrate. I also asked about Fiona, Andrea and her baby at the Wilmington station, and also asked them to communicate to Meg and Mel that I had found their brother.
The reply came two days later. The letter included a response from Meg and Mel wishing they could visit. I could almost hear Mel sob through the words she wrote. The Society also confirmed that Andrea and Fiona were safe in Wilmington, and while I was happy and relieved to hear this, that wasn’t what caught my attention.
The letter ended with a warning in code to all station masters, conductors and undercover spies:
Something was about to go down in Missouri.
Of course, he’d be married. It had been ten bloody years. I should have been married, if I hadn’t been hung up over a man that had moved on without me!
Stupid, stupid, stupid girl! What did you expect, that he’d wait for you? That he’d hold all those words you said to each other and nurse sweet hope in his heart that you’d meet again? Ha! I was such a fool. He was a man after all. He had needs.
Well, damn him and his needs to hell and back!
I brought the knife down violently and missed my forefinger by a hairsbreadth.
“Lil’ girl. You tryin’ ta get yo’self killed?”
I ignored Sue and kept chopping the onions like they had been convicted of murder and sentenced to death by beheading. Plus, it was an excuse to let my tears run free. Let Sue think I was reacting to the onions.
I hated the fact that I was crying. It made me feel weak. It was a strange yet familiar feeling. And that was because it reminded me of my father. The last time I felt this weak and helpless was under his tyranny. And it brought back all the old feelings of loathing.
I’m married, Mosana. It echoed like a broken record, tuned backwards.
I had spent the night thinking that my trip to the South was a waste. I had come to find Flint, but I wasn’t prepared for this. It had already been a week and I hadn’t yet written one letter to the Society. I had nothing to report on, as it didn’t seem like the MacGregors were into anything fishy when it came to bounty hunting. They were regular slaveowners who worked their slaves like every other slaveowner in the South. Still, I had to write to let them know I was okay, and to ask news of Andrea and Fiona in Wilmington. I knew that once I mentioned the station in Wilmington, they would be able to tell me if they had arrived safely or not. Not to mention Mel and Meg and how they were faring…
But Flint’s news had numbed me, and I wandered about my duties with no energy, paying no attention to the activities of the people around me as I usually did. I answered when called, spoke when spoken to, performed my duties without question and through it all, kept my head bowed.
Life in the MacGregor household was busy, but quiet. I woke up at the crack of dawn, and joined Sue in the kitchen, along with 3 other slaves assigned to the kitchen, all women except for one man, Matt. He was responsible to chopping the firewood and any heavy lifting. Life was easy; at least, as easy as it could be for any slave in 1855. I didn’t have much contact with the MacGregors, except for when it was my turn to serve them in the house. I hated it when I had to do this, because I had to watch Flint eat with them at the dining table, with Mr. MacGregor and his daughter, Angelia. I also had to stand in the corner and wait till they had all eaten, so that I could take the plates away as soon as they were done. It was only then I could have my own dinner.
He didn’t let me serve him though. As soon as I had finished with Mr. MacGregor and Angelia, he would take the dishes and serving spoon from me to serve himself. Once, I heard Angelia openly protest against it.
“Let the girl do it,” she said.
Did she just call me “girl”? One look at Angelia told me that I had more years on her than I would care to admit.
Flint spoke back. “I can do it, Angelia.”
“But that’s what she’s here for. Let the slave work, Joshua.”
“It’s okay, ‘Lia.”
Pain shot through my heart as I heard him shorten her name. He was the one that started calling me “Mo” back in the Russell Manor. I used to joke that he was the only one that could call me that back then.
Guess he’s shortening another woman’s name now, my brain commented snidely.
I looked at him, trying to see if he even knew how much I was hurting. Angelia caught me looking, and I had to lower my eyes.
Flint tried to talk to me after the night he told me he was married, but I always had somewhere to be. I didn’t think there was anything to talk about. As the days passed, I tried to make my peace with it. I didn’t hate him for taking an opportunity when he saw it, but that didn’t mean it hurt less. I watched him with her, and it seemed he was okay with the arrangement. He didn’t look like anyone forced him into the situation he was in.
Because of his position with the MacGregors, Flint was our overseer. Which helped me make sense of our first encounter. He was the one that was called upon when we were first bought, which meant that he was in charge of us all. On any other day, I would have been thrilled at a black overseer, but because that black overseer was Flint, it didn’t make me any happier. It means I saw him everywhere and act like we had never met before. We had agreed to keep that tiny fact between us. He didn’t seem domineering or order me around, but then he didn’t seem domineering to anyone on the plantation either. Whenever he had tasks for me to do; which didn’t happen often because I followed a strict routine, he always asked me, instead of commanding me.
It shouldn’t have, but it pissed me off, because it felt like he was trying to make up for marrying someone else. Well, I didn’t need him to patronize me, or try to fix it. What’s done was done.
Now that I had found Flint, my initial fervor for wanting to return to the South was gone. It was a selfish thing to feel, because I knew the Society still needed help, but I couldn’t help feeling that way. Still, I didn’t want to opt out because they needed me. Needed us. I thought about Meg and Mel, and knew that if I gave up now, they would lose their liver too. So I stayed. Although when it came to bounty hunter gossip, the MacGregor house was drier than parched corn.
I was able to write to the Society during my first weeks in the MacGregor’s household. Because Mr. MacGregor didn’t think his slaves were capable of anything, I was able to post it like a real letter in the marketplace when I followed Sue to get groceries. In my letter, I reported that I couldn’t get anything out of the MacGregors because they were up to nothing. I asked if I could leave (escape, that is. It would have been easy to do) since there was nothing to report on. I wanted to know if they had a more interesting settlement they wanted me to penetrate. I also asked about Fiona, Andrea and her baby at the Wilmington station, and also asked them to communicate to Meg and Mel that I had found their brother.
The reply came two days later. The letter included a response from Meg and Mel wishing they could visit. I could almost hear Mel sob through the words she wrote. The Society also confirmed that Andrea and Fiona were safe in Wilmington, and while I was happy and relieved to hear this, that wasn’t what caught my attention.
The letter ended with a warning in code to all station masters, conductors and undercover spies:
Something was about to go down in Missouri.
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No author's note today...
See you next Sunday!
xoxo,
Ava.
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