I see Aibileen in our usual pew, left side, fourth from the front, right by the window fan. Were prime members and we deserve a prime spot. Shes got her hair smoothed back, a little roll of pencil curls around her neck. Shes wearing a blue dress with big white buttons that Ive never seen before. Aibileen has white lady clothes out the wazoo. White ladies love giving her their old stuff. As usual, she looks plump and respectable, but for all her prim and proper, Aibileen can still tell a dirty joke thatll make you tinkle in your pants.
I walk up the aisle, see Aibileen frown at something, creasing her forehead. For a second I can see the fifteen-odd years between us. But then she smiles and her face goes young and fat again.
Lord, I say as soon as Im settled in.
I know. Somebody got to tell her. Aibileen fans her face with her hanky. It was Kiki Browns morning for cleaning and the whole church is gaudied up with her lemon smell-good she makes and tries to sell for twenty-five cents a bottle. We have a sign-up sheet for cleaning the church.
Ask me, Kiki Brown ought to sign a little less and the men ought to sign a lot more. Far as I know, no man has signed that sheet once.
Besides the smell, the church looks pretty good. Kiki shined the pews to where you could pick your teeth looking at them. The Christmas trees already up, next to the altar, full of tinsel and a shiny gold star on top. Three windows of the church have stained glass the birth of Christ, Lazarus raised from the dead, and the teaching of those fool Pharisees. The other seven are filled with regular clear panes. Were still raising money for those.
How Bennys asthma? Aibileen asks.
Had a little spell yesterday. Leroy dropping him and the rest a the kids by in a while. Lets hope the lemon dont kill him.
Leroy. Aibileen shakes her head and laughs. Tell him I said he better behave[93]. Or I put him on my prayer list.
I wish you would. Oh Lord, hide the food.
Hoity-toity Bertrina Bessemer waddles toward us. She leans over the pew in front of us, smiling with a big, tacky blue-bird hat on. Bertrina, shes the one who called Aibileen a fool for all those years.
Minny, Bertrina says, I sure was glad to hear about your new job.
Thank you, Bertrina.
And Aibileen, I thank you for putting me on your prayer list. My angina sure is better now. I call you this weekend and we catch up.
Aibileen smiles, nods. Bertrina waddles off to her pew.
Maybe you ought a be a little pickier who you pray for, I say.
Aw, I aint mad at her no more, says Aibileen. And look a there, she done lost some weight.
She telling everybody she lost forty pounds, I say.
Lord a mercy.
Only got two hundred more to go.
Aibileen tries not to smile, acts like shes waving away the lemon smell.
So what you want me to come early for? I ask. You miss me or something?
Naw, its no big deal. Just something somebody said.
What?
Aibileen takes a breath, looks around for anybody listening. Were like royalty here. Folks are always hemming in on us.
You know that Miss Skeeter? she asks.
I told you I did the other day.
She quiets her voice, says, Well, remember how I slipped up and told her about Treelore writing colored things down?
I remember. She want a sue you for that?
No, no. She nice. But she had the gall to ask if me and some a my maid friends might want a put down on paper what its like to tend for white people. Say she writing a book.
Say what?
Aibileen nods, raises her eyebrows. Mm-hmm.
Phhh. Well, you tell her its a real Fourth of July picnic. Its what we dream a doing all weekend, get back in they houses to polish they silver, I say.
I told her, let the regular old history books tell it. White people been representing colored opinions since the beginning a time.
Thats right. You tell her.
I did. I tell her she crazy, Aibileen says. I ask her, what if we told the truth? How we too scared to ask for minimum wage. How nobody gets paid they Social Security. How it feel when your own boss be calling you Aibileen shakes her head. Im glad she doesnt say it.
How we love they kids when they little she says and I see Aibileens lip tremble a little. And then they turn out just like they mamas.
I look down and see Aibileens gripping her black pocketbook like its the only thing she has left in this world. Aibileen, she moves on to another job when the babies get too old and stop being color-blind[94]. We dont talk about it.
Even if she is changing all the names a the help and the white ladies, she sniff.
She crazy if she think we do something dangerous as that. For her.
We dont want a bring all that mess up. Aibileen wipes her nose with a hankie. Tell people the truth.
No, we dont, I say, but I stop. Its something about that word truth.
Ive been trying to tell white women the truth about working for them since I was fourteen years old.
We dont want a change nothing around here, Aibileen says and were both quiet, thinking about all the things we dont want to change. But then Aibileen narrows her eyes at me, asks, What? You dont think its a crazy idea?