Chapter 5

The Invention of Wings

Handful
My life with Miss Sarah got off on a bad left foot.
When I got to her room that first morning, the door hung open and Miss
Sarah was sitting in the cold, staring at the blank wall. I stuck my head in
and said, “Miss Sarah, you want me to come in there?”
She had thick little hands with stubby fingers and they went up to her
mouth and spread open like a lady’s fan. Her eyes were pale and spoke
plainer than her mouth. They said, I don’t want you here. Her mouth said,
“. . . . . . Yes, come in. . . . . . I’m pleased to have you for my waiting maid.”
Then she slumped in her chair and went back to what she was doing before.
Nothing.
A ten-year-old yard slave who hadn’t done nothing but chores for AuntSister never got inside the house much. And never to the top floors. What
such a room! She had a bed big as a horse buggy, a dressing table with a
looking glass, a desk for holding books and more books, and lots of padded
chairs. The chimney place had a fire screen embroidered with pink flowers I
knew came from mauma’s needle. Up on the mantel were two white vases,
pure porcelain.
I looked everything over, then stood there, wondering what to do. I said,
“Sure is cold.”
Miss Sarah didn’t answer, so I said louder, “SURE IS COLD.”
This snapped her from her wall-staring. “. . . . . . You could lay a fire, I
guess.”
I’d seen it done, but seeing ain’t doing. I didn’t know to check the flue,
and here came all this smoke swarming out like chimney bats.
Miss Sarah started throwing open windows. It must’ve looked like the
house was burning cause out in the yard Tomfry yelled, “Fire, fire.”
Then everybody took it up.
I grabbed the basin of water in the dressing room used for freshening up
and hurled it on the fire, which didn’t do nothing but cause the smoke to
double up. Miss Sarah fanned it out the windows, looking like a ghost

through all the black clouds. There was a jib door in her room that opened
to the piazza, and I ran to get it open, wanting to shout to Tomfry we didn’t
have a fire, but before I could yank it free, I heard missus flying round the
house hollering for everybody to get out and take an armload.
After the smoke thinned to a few floating cobwebs, I followed Miss
Sarah to the yard. Old Snow and Sabe had already bridled up the horses and
pulled the carriages to the back in case the whole yard went down with the
house. Tomfry had Prince and Eli toting buckets from the cistern. Some
neighbor men had showed up with more buckets. Folks feared a fire worse
than the devil. They kept a slave sitting all day up in the steeple on St.
Michael’s, watching the rooftops for fire, and I worried he’d see all this
smoke, ring the church bell, and the whole brigade show up.
I ran to mauma who was bunched with the rest of ’em. The stuff they
thought worth saving was heaped in piles by their feet. China bowls, tea
caddies, record books, clothes, portraits, Bibles, brooches, and pearls. Even
a marble bust was sitting out there. Missus had her gold-tip cane in one
hand and a silver cigar holder in the other.
Miss Sarah was trying to cut through the frantics to tell Tomfry and the
men there wasn’t a fire to throw their water on, but by the time she dragged
the words out of her mouth, the men had gone back to hauling water.
When it got worked out what’d happened, missus went into a fury.
“Hetty, you incompetent fool!”
Nobody moved, not even the neighbor men. Mauma moved over and
tucked me behind her, but missus jerked me out front. She brought the goldtip cane down on the back of my head, worst blow I ever got. It drove me to
my knees.
Mauma screamed. So did Miss Sarah. But missus, she raised her arm
like she’d go at me again. I can’t describe proper what came next. The work
yard, the people in it, the walls shutting us in, all that fell away. The ground
rolled out from under me and the sky billowed off like a tent caught in the
wind. I was in a space to myself, somewhere time can’t cross. A voice
called steady in my head, Get up from there. Get up from there and look her
in the face. Dare her to strike you. Dare her.
I got on my feet and poked my face at her. My eyes said, Hit me, I dare
you.
Missus let her arm drop and stepped back.

Then the yard was round me again and I reached up and felt my head. A
lump was there the size of a quail egg. Mauma reached over and touched it
with her fingertip.
The rest of that God-forsook day every woman and girl slave was made
to drag clothes, linens, rugs, and curtains from every room upstairs out to
the piazza for airing-out. Everyone but mauma and Binah showered me
with looks of despising. Miss Sarah came up there wanting to help and
started hauling with the rest of us. Every time I turned round, she was
looking at me like she’d never seen me before in her life.

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