The mans made it halfway up the walk by the time I look up. I catch a sliver of a white shirt, the variety of which Im used to ironing every day, and the leg of a pair of khaki pants like I hang up in Mister Johnnys closet. I choke on a yelp. My knife clatters in the sink.
Miss Celia! I dash into her bedroom. Mister Johnny home!
Miss Celia jumps out of bed faster than Ive seen her move before. I turn around in an idiot circle. Where am I going? Which way do I go? What happened to my getaway plan? And then I snap into decision the guest bathroom!
I slip in and keep the door cracked. I crouch up on the toilet seat so he cant see my feet under the door. Its dark in here and hot. I feel like my heads on fire. Sweat drips off my chin and splats on the floor. I feel sick by the thick smell of gardenia soaps by the sink.
I hear footsteps. I hold my breath.
The footsteps stop. My heart is thumping like a cat in a clothes dryer. What if Miss Celia pretends she doesnt know me so she wont get in trouble? Acts like Im a burglar? Oh, I hate her! I hate that stupid woman!
I listen, but all I can hear is my own panting. The thud-thud in my chest. My ankles hurt and creak, holding up my body like this.
My eyes grow sharper in the dark. After a minute, I see myself in the mirror over the sink. Crouched like a fool on top of a white ladys toilet.
I listen, but all I can hear is my own panting. The thud-thud in my chest. My ankles hurt and creak, holding up my body like this.
My eyes grow sharper in the dark. After a minute, I see myself in the mirror over the sink. Crouched like a fool on top of a white ladys toilet.
Look at me. Look what its come to for Minny Jackson to make a damn living[39].
Miss Skeeter
Chapter 5
I drive my mamas Cadillac fast on the gravel road, headed home. Patsy Cline cant even be heard on the radio anymore, for all the rocks banging the side of the car. Mother would be furious, but I just drive faster. I cant stop thinking about what Hilly said to me today at bridge club.
Hilly and Elizabeth and I have been best friends since Power Elementary. My favorite photograph is of the three of us sitting in the football stands in junior high, all jammed together, shoulder to shoulder. What makes the picture, though, is that the stands are completely empty around us. We sat close because we were close.
At Ole Miss[40],Hilly and I roomed together for two years before she left to get married and I stayed on to graduate. I rolled thirteen curlers in her hair every night at the Chi Omega house. But today, she threatened to throw me out of the League. Not that I care so much about the League, but I was hurt by how easily my friend would be willing to cast me aside.
I turn up the lane that leads to Longleaf, my familys cotton plantation. The gravel quiets to smooth, yellow dust and I slow down before Mother sees how fast Im driving. I pull up to the house and get out. Mother is rocking on the front porch.
Come sit, darling, she says, waving me toward a rocking chair beside her. Pascagoulas just waxed the floors. Let them dry awhile.
Alright, Mama. I kiss her powdery cheek. But I dont sit. I lean on the porch railing, look out on the three mossy oak trees in the front yard. Even though its only five minutes outside of town, most people consider this the country out here. Surrounding our yard lie ten thousand acres of Daddys cotton fields, the plants green and strong, tall as my waist. A few colored men sit under a distant shed, staring into the heat. Everyone is waiting for the same thing, for the cotton bolls to open.
I think about how things are different between Hilly and me, since I came home from school. But who is the different person, her or me?
Did I tell you? Mother says. Fanny Peatrow got engaged.
Good for Fanny.
Not even a month after she got that teller job at the Farmers Bank.
Thats great, Mother.
I know, she says, and I turn to see one of those lightbulb-popping looks of hers. Why dont you go down to the bank and apply for a teller job?
I dont want to be a bank teller, Mama.
Mother sighs, narrows her eyes at the spaniel, Shelby, licking his nether parts. I eye the front door, tempted to ruin the clean floors anyway. Weve had this conversation so many times.
Four years my daughter goes off to college and what does she come home with? she asks.
A diploma?
A pretty piece of paper, Mother says.
I told you. I didnt meet anybody I wanted to marry, I say.
Mother rises from her chair, comes close so Ill look her in her smooth, pretty face. Shes wearing a navy-blue dress, narrow along her slim bones. As usual her lipstick is just so, but when she steps into the bright afternoon sun, I see dark stains, deep and dried, on the front of her clothes. I squint my eyes, trying to see if the stains are really there. Mama? Are you feeling bad?
If youd just show a little gumption, Eugenia
Your dress is all dirty on the front.
Mother crosses her arms. Now, I talked to Fannys mother and she said Fanny was practically swimming in opportunities once she got that job.