Oh no. Not Robert. He is he ?
Franny shake her head. They dont know. He up at the hospital. I heard he blind.
God, no. I close my eyes. Louvenia, she is the purest, kindest person they is. She raised Robert after her own daughter died.
Poor Louvenia. I dont know why the bad have to happen to the goodest ones, Franny say.
That afternoon, I work like a crazy woman, chopping onions and celery, mixing up my dressing, ricing sweet potatoes, stringing the beans, polishing silver. I heard folks is heading to Louvenia Browns tonight at five-thirty to pray for Robert, but by the time I lift that twenty-pound turkey in the brine, I cant barely raise my arms.
I dont finish cooking till six oclock that night, two hours later than usual. I know I aint gone have the strength to go knock on Louvenias door. Ill have to do it tomorrow after Im done cleaning up the turkey. I waddle myself from the bus stop, hardly able to keep my eyes open. I turn the corner on Gessum. A big white Cadillacs parked in front a my house. And there be Miss Skeeter in a red dress and red shoes, setting on my front steps like a bullhorn.
I walk real slow through my yard, wondering what its gone be now. Miss Skeeter stand up, holding her pocketbook tight like it might get snatched. White peoples dont come round my neighborhood less they toting the help to and fro, and that is just fine with me. I spend all day long tending to white peoples. I dont need em looking in on me at home.
I hope you dont mind me coming by, she say. I just I didnt know where else we could talk.
I set down on the step and ever knob on my spine hurt. Baby Girl so nervous around her Granmama, she wet all over me and I smell like it.
The streets full a folks walking to sweet Louvenias to pray for Robert, kids playing ball in the street. Everbody looking over at us thinking I must be getting fired or something.
Yes maam, I sigh. What can I do for you?
I have an idea. Something I want to write about. But I need your help.
I let all my breath out. I like Miss Skeeter, but come on. Sure, a phone call would a been nice. She never would a just shown up on some white ladys step without calling[72]. But no, she done plopped herself down like she got ever right to barge in on me at home.
I want to interview you. About what its like to work as a maid.
A red ball roll a few feet in my yard. The little Jones boy run across the street to get it. When he see Miss Skeeter, he stop dead. Then he run and snatch it up. He turn and dash off like he scared she gone get him.
I want to interview you. About what its like to work as a maid.
A red ball roll a few feet in my yard. The little Jones boy run across the street to get it. When he see Miss Skeeter, he stop dead. Then he run and snatch it up. He turn and dash off like he scared she gone get him.
Like the Miss Myrna column? I say, flat as a pan. Bout cleaning?
Not like Miss Myrna. Im talking about a book, she say and her eyes is big. She excited. Stories about what its like to work for a white family. What its like to work for, say Elizabeth.
I turn and look at her. This what she been trying to ask me the past two weeks in Miss Leefolt kitchen. You think Miss Leefolt gone agree to that? Me telling stories about her?
Miss Skeeters eyes drop down some. Well, no. I was thinking we wouldnt tell her. Ill have to make sure the other maids will agree to keep it secret, too.
I scrunch up my forehead, just starting to get what shes asking. Other maids?
I was hoping to get four or five. To really show what its like to be a maid in Jackson.
I look around. We out here in the wide open. Dont she know how dangerous this could be, talking about this while the whole world can see us? Exactly what kind a stories you think you gone hear?
What you get paid, how they treat you, the bathrooms, the babies, all the things youve seen, good and bad.
She looks excited, like this is some kind a game. For a second, I think I might be more mad than I am tired.
Miss Skeeter, I whisper, do that not sound kind a dangerous to you?
Not if were careful
Shhh, please. Do you know what would happen to me if Miss Leefolt find out I talked behind her back?
We wont tell her, or anyone. She lowers her voice some, but not enough. These will be private interviews.
I just stare at her. Is she crazy? Did you hear about the colored boy this morning? One they beat with a tire iron for accidentally using the white bathroom?
She just look at me, blink a little. I know things are unstable but this is
And my cousin Shinelle in Cauter County? They burn up her car cause she went down to the voting station.
No ones ever written a book like this, she say, finally whispering, finally starting to understand, I guess. Wed be breaking new ground.[73] Its a brand-new perspective.
I spot a flock a maids in they uniforms walking by my house. They look over, see me setting with a white woman on my front step. I grit my teeth, already know my phone gone be ringing tonight.
Miss Skeeter, and I say it slow, try to make it count, I do this with you, I might as well burn my own house down.