I could see Mothers pink slippers pass by the door. I tried to ignore them. I couldnt believe Missus Stein was already calling my bluff. The first interviewee is eager to tell her story.
Miss Phelan, Elaine Stein said, and I knew it wasnt a question, this Negro actually agreed to talk to you candidly? About working for a white family? Because that seems like a hell of a risk in a place like Jackson, Mississippi.
I sat blinking. I felt the first fingers of worry that Aibileen might not be as easy to convince as Id thought. Little did I know what she would say to me on her front steps the next week.
I watched them try to integrate your bus station on the news, Missus Stein continued. They jammed fifty-five Negroes in a jail cell built for four.
I pursed my lips. She has agreed. Yes, she has.
Well. That is impressive. But after her, you really think other maids will talk to you? What if the employers find out?
The interviews would be conducted secretly. Since, as you know, things are a little dangerous down here right now. The truth was, I had very little idea how dangerous things were. Id spent the past four years locked away in the padded room of college, reading Keats[75] and Eudora Welty[76] and worrying over term papers.
A little dangerous? She laughed. The marches in Birmingham, Martin Luther King[77]. Dogs attacking colored children. Darling, its the hottest topic in the nation. But, Im sorry, this will never work. Not as an article, because no Southern newspaper would publish it. And certainly not as a book. A book of interviews would never sell.
Oh, I heard myself say. I closed my eyes, feeling all the excitement drain out of me. I heard myself say again, Oh.
I called because, frankly, its a good idea. But theres no possible way to take it to print.
But what if My eyes started darting around the pantry, looking for something to bring back her interest. Maybe I should talk about it as an article, maybe a magazine, but she said no
Eugenia, who are you talking to in there? Mothers voice cut though the crack. She inched the door open and I yanked it closed again. I covered the receiver, hissed, Im talking to Hilly, Mother
In the pantry? Youre like a teenager again
I mean Missus Stein let out a sharp tsk. I suppose I could read what you get. God knows, the book business could use some rattling.
Youd do that? Oh Missus Stein
Im not saying Im considering it. But do the interview and Ill let you know if its worth pursuing.
I stuttered a few unintelligible sounds, finally coming out with, Thank you. Missus Stein, I cant tell you how much I appreciate your help.
Dont thank me yet. Call Ruth, my secretary, if you need to get in touch. And she hung up.
I lug an old satchel to bridge club at Elizabeths on Wednesday. It is red. It is ugly. And for today, at least, it is a prop.
Its the only bag in Mothers house I could find large enough to carry the Miss Myrna letters. The leather is cracked and flaking, the thick shoulder strap leaves a brown mark on my blouse where the leather stain is rubbing off. It was my Grandmother Claires gardening bag. She used to carry her garden tools around the yard in it and the bottom is still lined with sunflower seeds. It matches absolutely nothing I own and I dont care.
Two weeks, Hilly says to me, holding up two fingers. Hes coming. She smiles and I smile back. Ill be right back, I say and I slip into the kitchen, carrying my satchel with me.
Aibileen is standing at the sink. Afternoon, she says quietly. It was a week ago that I visited her at her house.
I stand there a minute, watching her stir the iced tea, feeling the discomfort in her posture, her dread that I might be about to ask for her help on the book again. I pull a few housekeeping letters out and, seeing this, Aibileens shoulders relax a little. As I read her a question about mold stains, she pours a little tea in a glass, tastes it. She spoons more sugar in the pitcher.
Oh, fore I forget, I got the answer on that water ring question. Minny say just rub you a little mayonnaise on it. Aibileen squeezes half a lemon in the tea. Then go on and throw that no-good husband out the door. She stirs, tastes. Minny dont take too well to husbands[78].
Thanks, Ill put that down, I say. As casually as I can, I pull an envelope from my bag. And here. Ive been meaning to give you this.
Aibileen stiffens back into her cautious pose, the one she had when I walked in. What you got there? she says without reaching for it.
For your help, I say quietly. Ive put away five dollars for every article. Its up to thirty-five dollars now.
Aibileens eyes move quickly back to her tea. No thank you, maam.
Please take it, youve earned it.
I hear chairs scraping on wood in the dining room, Elizabeths voice.
Please, Miss Skeeter. Miss Leefolt have a fit if she find you giving me cash, Aibileen whispers.
She doesnt have to know.
Aibileen looks up at me. The whites of her eyes are yellowed, tired. I know what shes thinking.
I already told you, Im sorry, I cant help you with that book, Miss Skeeter.