MOSANA (THE UNION) - PART XVI
EPISODE 16
At that moment, I would have taken a whipping from anybody. Anybody at all. Madam Russell. Master Wells. Mr. Flounder. Anybody but Flint. Flint knew this, and so I wasn’t surprised that the terror in his eyes mirrored my own.
The problem wasn’t that Flint would hit me hard; the issue was that it would be a black man hitting a black woman. We despised the whites because they treated us less than slaves; they treated us like dogs, with physical, emotional and mental abuse. To have one of us inflict that pain was beyond anything we could take. It raised the emotional abuse to a new level, and Angelia knew it. Which was why she was okay with not whipping me herself or having her father do it.
“Lia, please,” Flint begged. “I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can.” Angelia retorted. “You can, and you will.”
She hesitated before adding, “Or else.”
It was like a hanging hammer the way she said it. I knew all too well what it meant, and I could tell the full extent of that phrase wasn’t lost on Flint either. His countenance changed, and an unreadable mask fell over his face. He looked at me and passed a single message in that look. I understood. Flint could go from an indentured servant to one of us with Angelia’s say-so. I was standing in the way of the only pass to freedom that he had. It was either me or her. And he had made his choice long before I ever found him again in Kansas.
Swallowing my fears, I nodded.
Do it.
Flint took me gently by the elbows and led me past the trees outside the kitchen house. On our way out, I saw Sue shaking by the door. I gave her a weak smile to let her know that I understood it wasn’t her fault and that I didn’t blame her.
Flint walked me out farther to the trees that half bordered the MacGregor property, as if he was trying to shield me from everyone’s view. I almost laughed out loud because those were the same trees where he had told me he was married. And now, he was bringing me here to flog me.
In silence, he tied a rope around my wrists, my arms hugging the tree, and my chest flat against the tree trunk. He didn’t look at me once. Then he went behind me and took the whip from Angelia’s hands.
I closed my eyes and willed my heart to stop racing. It proved abortive.
I felt Angelia come up behind me. In one swift motion, she ripped my dress from my shoulders, leaving my back bare. I felt a slight breeze kiss my back like a cotton swab soaked in methylated spirit before the injection of a syringe.
The first lash of the whip stole my breath.
“Harder,” Angelia commanded.
Flint whipped me again, and I bucked against the tree. By the time the ninth lash landed on my bare skin, I was no longer holding the tree; it was holding me. On the eleventh, I heard a cry. I thought it came from me until I heard Flint behind me.
“Please, Lia, it’s enough.”
Angelia’s voice was merciless. “It’s not enough until I say it is. Again!”
I was crying, but no sounds were coming out. Each lash made it harder to take in air, and I was starting to lose count and consciousness. Just as I was praying for the darkness to take me, I heard Sue’s voice.
“Mistress!”
The whipping stopped.
“What?” the younger woman asked.
“The master summons you.”
“Continue, Flint.” Angelia started to walk back towards the house when Sue added, “And Mr. Joshua, ma’am.”
“Both of us?” Angelia asked suspiciously.
“Yes.”
A moment of silence.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.” It was Sue speaking. “The master asks that you and Mr. Joshua both appear before him immediately,” she continued.
Another moment of silence. Although all the nerve endings in my brain were focused on the pain tearing through my back, I still had enough presence of mind to pick up on the boldness in Sue’s voice.
Well, wherever it came from, it worked on Angelia. She relented and commanded Flint to follow her back to the house. But before he moved an inch with her, he came to stand in front of me and began to work on the knot that held me to the tree.
“What are you doing?” Angelia asked with a sharp tone.
“I’m not leaving her like this,” Flint answered, his own tone leaving no room for argument.
Again, Angelia relented, and it made me wonder, “what was all this confidence going around?”
Once my bonds were loosed, I crumpled to the ground in a heap. Sue rushed to my side to help me stand up, but I put up a weak protest for her to just let me lie there for a while. With my head against the tree, I closed my eyes and let the pain in my back empower my tear ducts. I cried and cried while Sue stood silently beside me like a sentry. In her way, she let me know she was behind the summoning of Angelia and Flint; the reason the whipping had stopped. Later, I would ask her how she got Mr. MacGregor to agree to her request to call them both inside.
After that day, I never spoke to Flint again. Not because I hated him for what he did, but because he still wouldn’t look at me. Whenever he passed me, he acted like I was a phantom and looked right through me. I knew it was guilt that ate him up, and I didn’t know how to tell him it was okay. It wasn’t, but I still wanted to tell him that. To look him in the eye and acknowledge that what happened, happened. That we couldn’t move past it, but we could move on with it. But he never gave us the chance.
It didn’t matter though. Because my days in the MacGregor household were already numbered.
At that moment, I would have taken a whipping from anybody. Anybody at all. Madam Russell. Master Wells. Mr. Flounder. Anybody but Flint. Flint knew this, and so I wasn’t surprised that the terror in his eyes mirrored my own.
The problem wasn’t that Flint would hit me hard; the issue was that it would be a black man hitting a black woman. We despised the whites because they treated us less than slaves; they treated us like dogs, with physical, emotional and mental abuse. To have one of us inflict that pain was beyond anything we could take. It raised the emotional abuse to a new level, and Angelia knew it. Which was why she was okay with not whipping me herself or having her father do it.
“Lia, please,” Flint begged. “I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can.” Angelia retorted. “You can, and you will.”
She hesitated before adding, “Or else.”
It was like a hanging hammer the way she said it. I knew all too well what it meant, and I could tell the full extent of that phrase wasn’t lost on Flint either. His countenance changed, and an unreadable mask fell over his face. He looked at me and passed a single message in that look. I understood. Flint could go from an indentured servant to one of us with Angelia’s say-so. I was standing in the way of the only pass to freedom that he had. It was either me or her. And he had made his choice long before I ever found him again in Kansas.
Swallowing my fears, I nodded.
Do it.
Flint took me gently by the elbows and led me past the trees outside the kitchen house. On our way out, I saw Sue shaking by the door. I gave her a weak smile to let her know that I understood it wasn’t her fault and that I didn’t blame her.
Flint walked me out farther to the trees that half bordered the MacGregor property, as if he was trying to shield me from everyone’s view. I almost laughed out loud because those were the same trees where he had told me he was married. And now, he was bringing me here to flog me.
In silence, he tied a rope around my wrists, my arms hugging the tree, and my chest flat against the tree trunk. He didn’t look at me once. Then he went behind me and took the whip from Angelia’s hands.
I closed my eyes and willed my heart to stop racing. It proved abortive.
I felt Angelia come up behind me. In one swift motion, she ripped my dress from my shoulders, leaving my back bare. I felt a slight breeze kiss my back like a cotton swab soaked in methylated spirit before the injection of a syringe.
The first lash of the whip stole my breath.
“Harder,” Angelia commanded.
Flint whipped me again, and I bucked against the tree. By the time the ninth lash landed on my bare skin, I was no longer holding the tree; it was holding me. On the eleventh, I heard a cry. I thought it came from me until I heard Flint behind me.
“Please, Lia, it’s enough.”
Angelia’s voice was merciless. “It’s not enough until I say it is. Again!”
I was crying, but no sounds were coming out. Each lash made it harder to take in air, and I was starting to lose count and consciousness. Just as I was praying for the darkness to take me, I heard Sue’s voice.
“Mistress!”
The whipping stopped.
“What?” the younger woman asked.
“The master summons you.”
“Continue, Flint.” Angelia started to walk back towards the house when Sue added, “And Mr. Joshua, ma’am.”
“Both of us?” Angelia asked suspiciously.
“Yes.”
A moment of silence.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.” It was Sue speaking. “The master asks that you and Mr. Joshua both appear before him immediately,” she continued.
Another moment of silence. Although all the nerve endings in my brain were focused on the pain tearing through my back, I still had enough presence of mind to pick up on the boldness in Sue’s voice.
Where had that confidence come from?
Well, wherever it came from, it worked on Angelia. She relented and commanded Flint to follow her back to the house. But before he moved an inch with her, he came to stand in front of me and began to work on the knot that held me to the tree.
“What are you doing?” Angelia asked with a sharp tone.
“I’m not leaving her like this,” Flint answered, his own tone leaving no room for argument.
Again, Angelia relented, and it made me wonder, “what was all this confidence going around?”
Flint finished untying me, his hands lingering on mine a second too long. I understood; it was his way of telling me he was sorry. He still couldn’t look at me.
Once my bonds were loosed, I crumpled to the ground in a heap. Sue rushed to my side to help me stand up, but I put up a weak protest for her to just let me lie there for a while. With my head against the tree, I closed my eyes and let the pain in my back empower my tear ducts. I cried and cried while Sue stood silently beside me like a sentry. In her way, she let me know she was behind the summoning of Angelia and Flint; the reason the whipping had stopped. Later, I would ask her how she got Mr. MacGregor to agree to her request to call them both inside.
After that day, I never spoke to Flint again. Not because I hated him for what he did, but because he still wouldn’t look at me. Whenever he passed me, he acted like I was a phantom and looked right through me. I knew it was guilt that ate him up, and I didn’t know how to tell him it was okay. It wasn’t, but I still wanted to tell him that. To look him in the eye and acknowledge that what happened, happened. That we couldn’t move past it, but we could move on with it. But he never gave us the chance.
It didn’t matter though. Because my days in the MacGregor household were already numbered.
______________________
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