“Harper and Row,” I say, “wants to publish it.”
Everyone is quiet. Even the flies stop buzzing.
“You kidding me,” says Minny.
“I spoke to her this afternoon.”
Aibileen lets out a whoop like I’ve never heard come out of her before. “Law, I can’t believe it!” she hol ers, and then we are hugging,
Aibileen and me, then Minny and Aibileen. Minny looks in my general direction.
“Sit down, y’al !” Aibileen says. “Tel me what she say? What a we do now? Law, I ain’t even got no coffee ready!”
We sit and they both stare at me, leaning forward. Aibileen’s eyes are big. I’ve been waiting at home with the news for four hours. Missus
Stein told me, clearly, this is a very smal deal. Keep our expectations between low and nonexistent. I feel obligated to communicate this to Aibileen
so she doesn’t end up disappointed. I’ve hardly even figured out how I should feel about it myself.
“Listen, she said not to get too excited. That the number of copies they’re going to put out is going to be very, very smal .”
I wait for Aibileen to frown, but she giggles. She tries to hide it with her hand.
“Probably only a few thousand copies.”
Aibileen presses her hand harder against her lips.
“Pathetic…Missus Stein cal ed it.”
Aibileen’s face is turning darker. She giggles again into her knuckles. Clearly she’s not getting this.
“And she said it’s one of the smal est advances she’s ever seen…” I am trying to be serious but I can’t because Aibileen is clearly about to
burst. Tears are coming up in her eyes.
“How…smal ?” she asks behind her hand.
“Eight hundred dol ars,” I say. “Divided thirteen ways.”
Aibileen splits open in laughter. I can’t help but laugh with her. But it makes no sense. A few thousand copies and $61.50 a person?
Tears run down Aibileen’s face and final y she just lays her head on the table. “I don’t know why I’m laughing. It just seem so funny al a
sudden.”
Minny rol s her eyes at us. “I knew y’al crazy. Both a you.”
I do my best to tel them the details. I hadn’t acted much better on the phone with Missus Stein. She’d sounded so matter-of-fact, almost
uninterested. And what did I do? Did I remain businesslike and ask pertinent questions? Did I thank her for taking on such a risky topic? No,
instead of laughing, I started blubbering into the phone, crying like a kid getting a polio shot.
“Calm down, Miss Phelan,” she’d said, “this is hardly going to be a best sel er,” but I just kept crying while she fed me the details. “We’re only
offering a four-hundred-dol ar advance and then another four hundred dol ars when it’s finished…are you…listening?”
“Ye-yes ma’am.”
“And there’s definitely some editing you have to do. The Sarah section is in the best shape,” she’d said, and I tel Aibileen this through her
fits and snorts.
Aibileen sniffs, wipes her eyes, smiles. We final y calm down, drinking coffee that Minny had to get up and put on for us.
“She real y likes Gertrude, too,” I say to Minny. I pick up the paper and read the quote I’d written so I wouldn’t forget it. “‘Gertrude is every
Southern white woman’s nightmare. I adore her.’”
For a second, Minny actual y looks me in the eye. Her face softens into a childlike smile. “She say that? Bout me?”
Aibileen laughs. “It’s like she know you from five hundred miles away.”
“She said it’l be at least six months until it comes out. Sometime in August.”
Aibileen is stil smiling, completely undeterred by anything I’ve said. And honestly, I’m grateful for this. I knew she’d be excited, but I was
afraid she’d be a little disappointed, too. Seeing her makes me realize, I’m not disappointed at al . I’m just happy.
We sit and talk another few minutes, drinking coffee and tea, until I look at my watch. “I told Daddy I’d be home in an hour.” Daddy is at home
with Mother. I took a risk and left him Aibileen’s number just in case, tel ing him I was going to visit a friend named Sarah.
They both walk me to the door, which is new for Minny. I tel Aibileen I’l cal her as soon as I get Missus Stein’s notes in the mail.
“So six months from now, we’l final y know what’s gone happen,” Minny says, “good, bad, or nothing.”
“It might be nothing,” I say, wondering if anyone wil even buy the book.
“Wel , I’m counting on good,” Aibileen says.
Minny crosses her arms over her chest. “I better count on bad then. Somebody got to.”
Minny doesn’t look worried about book sales. She looks worried about what wil happen when the women of Jackson read what we’ve
written about them.
AIBILEEN
CHAPTER 29
THE HEAT done seeped into everything. For a week now it’s been a hundred degrees and ninety-nine percent humidity. Get any wetter, we be
swimming. Can’t get my sheets to dry on the line, my front door won’t close it done swel up so much. Sho nuff couldn’t get a meringue to whip. Even
my church wig starting to frizz.
This morning, I can’t even get my stockings on. My legs is too swol en. I figure I just do it when I get to Miss Leefolt’s, in the air-condition. It
must be record heat, cause I been tending to white folks for forty-one years and this the first time in history I ever went to work without no stockings on.
But Miss Leefolt’s house be hotter than my own. “Aibileen, go on and get the tea brewed and…salad plates…wipe them down now…” She
ain’t even come in the kitchen today. She in the living room and she done pul a chair next to the wal vent, so what’s left a the air-condition blowing up her slip. That’s al she got on, her ful slip and her earrings. I wait on white ladies who walk right out the bedroom wearing nothing but they
personality, but Miss Leefolt don’t do like that.
Ever once in a while, that air-condition motor go phheeewww. Like it just giving up. Miss Leefolt cal the repairman twice now and he say he
coming, but I bet he ain’t. Too hot.
“And don’t forget…that silver thingamajig—cornichon server, it’s in the…”
But she give up before she finish, like it’s too hot to even tel me what to do. And you know that be hot. Seem like everbody in town got the
heat-crazies. Go out on the street and it feel real stil , eerie, like right before a tornado hit. Or maybe it’s just me, jittery cause a the book. It’s coming out on Friday.
“You think we ought a cancel bridge club?” I ask her from the kitchen. Bridge club changed to Mondays now and the ladies gone be here in
twenty minutes.
“No. Everything’s…already done,” she say, but I know she ain’t thinking straight.
“I’l try to whip the cream again. Then I got to go in the garage. Get my stockings on.”
“Oh don’t worry about it, Aibileen. It’s too hot for stockings.” Miss Leefolt final y get up from that wal vent, drag herself on in the kitchen,
flapping a Chow-Chow Chinese Restaurant fan. “Oh God, it must be fifteen degrees hotter in the kitchen than it is in the dining room!”
“Oven a be off in a minute. Kids gone out back to play.”
Miss Leefolt look out the window at the kids playing in the sprinkler. Mae Mobley down to just her underpants, Ross—I cal him Li’l Man—he
in his diaper. He ain’t even a year old yet and already he walking like a big boy. He never even crawled.
“I don’t see how they can stand it out there,” Miss Leefolt say.
Mae Mobley love playing with her little brother, looking after him like she his mama. But Mae Mobley don’t get to stay home
with us al day no
more. My Baby Girl go to the Broadmoore Baptist Pre-School ever morning. Today be Labor Day, though, a holiday for the rest a the world, so no
class today. I’m glad too. I don’t know how many days I got left with her.
“Look at them out there,” Miss Leefolt say and I come over to the window where she standing. The sprinkler be blooming up into the
treetops, making them rainbows. Mae Mobley got Li’l Man by the hands and they standing under the sprinkles with they eyes closed like they being
baptized.
“They are real y something special,” she say, sighing, like she just now figuring this out.
“They sure is,” I say and I spec we bout shared us a moment, me and Miss Leefolt, looking out the window at the kids we both love. It makes
me wonder if things done changed just a little. It is 1964 after al . Downtown, they letting Negroes set at the Woolworth counter.
I get a real heartsick feeling then, wondering if I gone too far. Cause after the book come out, if folks find out it was us, I probably never get
to see these kids again. What if I don’t even get to tel Mae Mobley goodbye, and that she a fine girl, one last time? And Li’l Man? Who gone tel
him the story a the Green Martian Luther King?
I already been through al this with myself, twenty times over. But today it’s just starting to feel so real. I touch the window pane like I be
touching them. If she find out…oh, I’m gone miss these kids.
I look over and see Miss Leefolt’s eyes done wandered down to my bare legs. I think she curious, you know. I bet she ain’t never seen bare
black legs up close before. But then, I see she frowning. She look up at Mae Mobley, give her that same hateful frown. Baby Girl done smeared
mud and grass al across her front. Now she decorating her brother with it like he a pig in a sty and I see that old disgust Miss Leefolt got for her
own daughter. Not for Li’l Man, just Mae Mobley. Saved up special for her.
“She’s ruining the yard!” Miss Leefolt say.
“I go get em. I take care—”
“And I can’t have you serving us like that, with your—your legs showing!”
“I tole you—”
“Hil y’s going to be here in five minutes and she’s messed up everything!” she screech. I guess Mae Mobley hear her through the window
cause she look over at us, frozen. Smile fades. After a second, she start wiping the mud off her face real slow.
I put a apron on cause I got to hose them kids off. Then I’m on go in the garage, get my stockings on. Book coming out in four days. Ain’t a
minute too soon.
WE BEEN LIVING IN ANTICIPATION. Me, Minny, Miss Skeeter, al the maids with stories in the book. Feel like we been waiting for some invisible pot a water to boil for the past seven months. After bout the third month a waiting, we just stopped talking about it. Got us too excited.
But for the past two weeks, I’ve had a secret joy and a secret dread both rattling inside a me that make waxing floors go even slower and
washing underwear a uphil race. Ironing pleats turns into a eternity, but what can you do. We al pretty sure nothing’s gone be said about it right at first. Just like Miss Stein told Miss Skeeter, this book ain’t gone be no best-sel er and to keep our “expectations low.” Miss Skeeter say maybe
don’t spec nothing at al , that most Southern peoples is “repressed.” If they feel something, they might not say a word. Just hold they breath and wait
for it to pass, like gas.
Minny say, “I hope she hold her breath til she explode al over Hinds County.” She mean Miss Hil y. I wish Minny was wishing for change in
the direction a kindness, but Minny is Minny, al the time.
“YOU WANT YOU A SNACK, Baby Girl?” I ask when she get home from school on Thursday. Oh, she a big girl! Already four years old. She tal for her age—
most folks think she five or six. Skinny as her mama is, Mae Mobley stil chubby. And her hair ain’t looking too good. She decide to give herself a
haircut with her construction paper scissors and you know how that turn out. Miss Leefolt had to take her down to the grown-up beauty parlor but
they couldn’t do a whole lot with it. It stil be short on one side with almost nothing in front.
I fix her a little something low-calorie to eat cause that’s al Miss Leefolt let me give her. Crackers and tunafish or Jel -O without no whip
cream.
“What you learn today?” I ask even though she ain’t in real school, just the pretend kind. Other day, when I ask her, she say, “Pilgrims. They
came over and nothing would grow so they ate the Indians.”
Now I knew them Pilgrims didn’t eat no Indians. But that ain’t the point. Point is, we got to watch what get up in these kids’ heads. Ever
week, she stil get her Aibileen lesson, her secret story. When Li’l Man get big enough to listen, I’m on tel him too. I mean, if I stil got a job here. But I don’t think it’s gone be the same with Li’l Man. He love me, but he wild, like a animal. Come and hug on my knees so hard then off he shoots to
look after something else. But even if I don’t get to do this for him, I don’t feel too bad. What I know is, I got it started and that baby boy, even though he can’t talk a word yet, he listen to everthing Mae Mobley say.
Today when I ask what she learn, Mae Mobley just say, “Nothing,” and stick her lip out.
“How you like your teacher?” I ask her.
“She’s pretty,” she say.
“Good,” I say. “You pretty too.”
“How come you’re colored, Aibileen?”
Now I’ve gotten this question a few times from my other white kids. I used to just laugh, but I want to get this right with her. “Cause God made
me colored,” I say. “And there ain’t another reason in the world.”
“Miss Taylor says kids that are colored can’t go to my school cause they’re not smart enough.”
I come round the counter then. Lift her chin up and smooth back her funny-looking hair. “You think I’m dumb?”
“No,” she whispers hard, like she means it so much. She look sorry she said it.
“What that tel you about Miss Taylor, then?”
She blink, like she listening good.
“Means Miss Taylor ain’t right al the time,” I say.
She hug me around my neck, say, “You’re righter than Miss Taylor.” I tear up then. My cup is spil ing over. Those is new words to me.
AT FOUR O’CLOCK THAT AFTERNOON, I walk as fast as I can from the bus stop to the Church a the Lamb. I wait inside, watch out the window. After ten minutes a trying to breathe and drumming my fingers on the sil , I see the car pul up. White lady gets out and I squint my eyes. This lady looks like one a
them hippies I seen on Miss Leefolt’s tee-vee. She got on a short white dress and sandals. Her hair’s long without no spray on it. The weight of it’s
worked out the curl and frizz. I laugh into my hand, wishing I could run out there and give her a hug. I ain’t been able to see Miss Skeeter in person in six months, since we finished Miss Stein’s edits and turned in the final copy.
Miss Skeeter pul a big brown box out the back seat, then carries it up to the church door, like she dropping off old clothes. She stop a
second and look at the door, but then she get in her car and drive away. I’m sad she had to do it this way but we don’t want a blow it fore it even
starts.
Soon as she gone, I run out and tote the box inside and grab out a copy and I just stare. I don’t even try not to cry. Be the prettiest book I ever
seen. The cover is a pale blue, color a the sky. And a big white bird—a peace dove—spreads its wings from end to end. The title Help is written across the front in black letters, in a bold fashion. The only thing that bothers me is the who-it-be-by part. It say by Anonymous. I w
ish Miss Skeeter could a put her name on it, but it was just too much of a risk.
Tomorrow, I’m on take early copies to al the women whose stories we put in. Miss Skeeter gone carry a copy up to the State Pen to Yule
May. In a way, she’s the reason the other maids even agreed to help. But I hear Yule May probably won’t get the box. Them prisoners don’t get but
one out a ten things sent to em cause the lady guards take it for theyselves. Miss Skeeter say she gone deliver copies ten more times to make
sure.
I carry that big box home and take out one copy and put the box under my bed. Then I run over to Minny’s house. Minny six months pregnant
but you can’t even tel yet. When I get there, she setting at the kitchen table drinking a glass a milk. Leroy asleep in the back and Benny and Sugar
and Kindra is shel ing peanuts in the backyard. The kitchen’s quiet. I smile, hand Minny her copy.
She eye it. “I guess the dove bird looks okay.”
“Miss Skeeter say the peace dove be the sign for better times to come. Say folks is wearing em on they clothes out in California.”
“I don’t care bout no peoples in California,” Minny say, staring at that cover. “Al I care about is what the folks in Jackson, Mississippi, got to
say about it.”
“Copies gone show up in the bookstores and the libraries tomorrow.
Twenty-five hundred in Mississippi, other half al over the United States.” That’s a lot more than what Miss Stein told us before, but since the
freedom rides started and them civil rights workers disappeared in that station wagon here in Mississippi, she say folks is paying more attention to
our state.
“How many copies going to the white Jackson library?” Minny ask. “Zero?”
I shake my head with a smile. “Three copies. Miss Skeeter told me on the phone this morning.”
Even Minny look stunned. Just two months ago the white library started letting colored people in. I been in twice myself.
Minny open the book and she start reading it right there. Kids come in and she tel them what to do and how to do it without even looking up.
Eyes don’t even stop moving across the page. I already done read it many a time, working on it over the past year. But Minny always said she don’t
want a read it til it come out in the hardboard. Say she don’t want a spoil it.
I set there with Minny awhile. Time to time she grin. Few times she laugh. And more an once she growl. I don’t ask what for. I leave her to it and head home. After I write al my prayers, I go to bed with that book setting on the pil ow next to me.
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