MULATTO (Iyila) (Editing)

chapter twenty two ~ To my sis Mira

It rained the morning Collete was scheduled to visit Longworth.
Although it rained heavily, almost until midday, her father still insisted that she continue with the plan. She held her breath as her slave worked on the stays of her corset. But she didn't know how long she could hold herself from crying. She promised not to break down. At least not in the presence of a lowely slave. But as the seconds moved into minutes she couldn't do much else. She could not hold back the tears that had been struggling to fall. They fell simultaneosly, ruining her make up. The slave heared her sniff but she remained quiet and Collete knew the slave lacked the audacity to speak to her.

"Yo ready miss?" her slave said calmly, minutes later. With a nod, Collete moved to the mirror to gaze at her image.

As usual her slave was at her best. However Collete realized that Sarah (which was the name of her slave) had in fact done more than her best. As she looked exceptional beautiful; neither could she vividly see the prints of her father's blow as it was black the previous day. Even her hair was styled differently and the curls were lovier. Still Collete thought she was overdressed to see a fifty eight year old.

Collete was wearing her best dress. The very dress her Aunt Cordelia had sent from London the previous Christmas. Aunt Cordy had said it was trendy and worn amongst only the elite of English society. The fabric alone was so expensive that Collete refused to wear it except on grand occasions. She had been furious when her Father inisted she wore it. She did not have a choice. She stared at herself with the same hate that she had stared at her Father.

How could he make her dress so important for her man who could care less if she looked like a hag or even tardy? She knew he only cared about her father's business with him. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine it a dream. That she was actually not going to marry Longworth and lay with him to bear children.

She tried not to imagine his old, perhaps cold and wrinkled skin on hers. She quickly opened her eyes when the scene of him ontop her flashed in her head.

She wanted to cry but she was too devastated and shocked to. She was startled by the compliments of her slave. She immediately felt irritated and desired to vent her frustration on her slave. She quickly turned to hit the slave but when she saw Sarah fidgeting like a lost child she couldn't imagine touching her.

She saw herself in Sarah. Just like she had been the other day at her father's libary -helpless and fidgeting like a wet chicken. Cowering before her father's presence.This thought made her feel guilty.

How could she hit a powerless person when she already loathed her father for doing so to her?

She stared at Sarah and noticed that the girl was very frightened, even her eyes were moving like a clock hand's. For once she wanted to understand a slave's life.

She wondered how it felt to be continously controlled by a superior person. Just once her father made her do his bidding and she was feeling already dead. But slaves, from the beginning of their lives to the end were controlled by a master. To be told what to wear, how to behave, how to speak, what to believe, who to marry and almost everything!

Immediately, scenes of her brutality towards the slave flashed in her head. She had frequently treated Sarah with nothing but contempt yet the negro had never retaliated nor spared a curse. She wondered if Sarah had so much to tell her if such an opportunity as came. She couldn't imagine the patience negroes had. The ability to endure so much.

Was it because they had nothing? For the first time Collete stared at a negro without contempt but respect. She stared at her fidgeting negro and noticed that Sarah was a beuatiful woman, not more than twenty five. She realized that Sarah had hands, legs, a face, a head and a body just like hers, but their skin was their difference. Collete refused to believe that they were equal but she agreed that negroes were humans.