by Londyn Skye
On this morning, however, unbeknownst to Lily, she had an audience, who had walked in just seconds after she began playing. Her uninvited guest stood there quietly, listening intently as she flawlessly played her music piece. As she swayed gracefully to the rhythm with her eyes closed, Lily never once felt a presence in the room. She was far too lost inside the recesses of her mind, reliving the highlights of the nine years she had spent with her mother.
After the song had helped restore peace to Lily’s mind, she wiped away the tears on her face. Still none the wiser to the fact that she was not alone, she carefully replaced the lid to the piano keys and got up to continue her household duties.
“My fatha’ know you playin’ my motha’s piano?”
The deep, southern accent startled Lily as she rose from the piano bench. She was instantly paralyzed with fear, unable to turn and look at the man whose voice she instantly recognized, even though she had not seen him in years.
“Answa’ me, girl!” he snapped.
“Naw sa’ Masa’ James,” Lily finally responded, her heart pounding.
After six years away, James had returned home from medical school, entering through the back door, hoping to surprise his father with his arrival. Instead, he had become Lily’s uninvited audience member, catching her in a role she knew full well she was not purchased for. “Then who gave you permission to play it?” James asked, coldly glaring at her.
Lily began trembling. “No-nobody. But I beg you not to tell yo’ fatha’,” she added, tears forming in her eyes. She had seen Jesse Adams’ wrath before when other slaves had stepped out of line, and she was not eager to become one of his latest victims.
“Who taught you to play that way?” James asked, ignoring her plea.
Lily still had her eyes locked on the piano. “No-nobody.”
“You ’spect me to believe that? You think I’m some kind ‘a fool?!”
“Naw sa’!” Lily answered with urgency.
“Then I’m gonna ask you one more time. Who taught you to play that way?”
Lily finally turned around and gazed at James with unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “Masa’, I’m tellin’ you the truth, ain’t nobody taught me to play.”
The sincerity in her eyes and her voice forced James’s better judgment to believe her.
“But I beg you not to tell yo’ fatha’ … please,” Lily added again, as a tear finally made its way down her cheek.
James motioned his head toward the piano. “Play,” he demanded.
Lily looked confused.
“I said play,” he demanded again.
Unsure of what his goal was, Lily sat back down at the piano bench. She lifted the key cover and looked at James, asking permission with her eyes before touching the keys again.
“Go on,” James insisted.
Without another moment wasted, Lily began playing the song she was most familiar with. James instantly recognized it as one that his mother had forced him and his brothers to play as children. Unlike their mother, however, they were not musically inclined enough to master the classical piece. Ironically, though, the way Lily played the song made James wonder if his mother had ever truly mastered it. She now seemed like a beginner in comparison to Lily. He recalled his mother always playing so slowly and cautiously. But Lily’s hands were gracefully dancing, her fingers effortlessly floating from key to key, like that of an accomplished performer. She was playing the song so smoothly it was as if the piano was playing itself. Lily never opened her eyes throughout the entire piece, and never saw James walk closer to her, his eyes unblinking. He was scrutinizing her every keystroke as the wheels spun in his head. He simply could not comprehend how such skill was possible without any formal lessons.
When Lily finished, she nervously glanced at James as he loomed over her; his face remained unreadable. She was unsure what to say, as was he. Judging by the tense scene in the parlor at that moment, one never would have guessed that such coldness between them had not always existed. There was once incredible warmth between the pair. As children, they formed a unique bond that was very profound and instantaneous…
On this exact day, fourteen years prior, James had watched from his upstairs bedroom window, as his father took a very young new slave out of the back of his wagon. Something about seeing a child his size, shackled in chains, tore at James as he stared at the little girl. He continued to watch this new little girl curiously for a few days after that, secretly peeking his head around corners or peering at her from the top of the stairs. Whenever or however he had the chance to spy on her, he would.
Soon, what drew young James to watch this new little girl began to go beyond the sorrow he felt about seeing a child his age bound in chains. There was something about her that made him look at her in a way he had never looked at any other girl before. Without even realizing he was doing it, his eyes would often linger on the almond-brown glaze of her skin, the curvature of her little bee-stung lips, and the array of colors swirling in her eyes. He even became curious about what her hair was like underneath the scarf she always wore. He did not understand at that time why he was so captivated by all the nuances of her unique features, nor why he was so compelled to follow her everywhere in secret.
One afternoon, James quietly followed behind the new little girl, as she neglected her duties and snuck off into a thickly wooded area near a creek. After seeing her pick up a turtle she had found, James’s fascination with her grew even more. The day before, he had watched her effortlessly climb into the tree he was currently hiding behind. He was surprised to see a girl scale a tree but saddened by the way she then perched herself there and quietly cried, as she mindlessly picked leaves and dropped them to the ground. And now, the fact that she fearlessly held onto a turtle further proved to James that she was nothing like the dainty girls he was used to.
James continued hiding and watching her as she sat down with the turtle on a log. Her sadness was still obvious to him by the tone of her voice when she then began to speak to the turtle. “Don’t worry, little fella’,” she sniffled, “I won’t take you away from your mama. I just wanted to play with you for a while. Maybe we can be friends.” She suddenly turned her head quickly to the right when she heard leaves rustling nearby. James had stumbled over a tree root as he moved to get a better view, tripping just enough to fall into her line of sight. She immediately jumped to her feet in a panic, thinking for sure she would be in trouble for leaving the farm without permission.
Embarrassed that he had been caught, James just stood there staring at this new little girl in silence. Although he felt a little foolish, he was glad he had finally been discovered. After noticing the way that she always cried when she was alone, he had a question he had been wanting to ask her for days. “A-are you okay?” he stammered.
“I-I’m fine,” Lily stuttered back, still feeling afraid that she was in trouble.
“Sho’ don’t look like it.”
“I-I’m fine,” Lily insisted, quickly wiping her tears away with her free hand. “Just thinkin’ ’bout my mama is all.”
“I know,” James said, cautiously approaching her. “I-I been prayin’ real hard every night that you’ll get to see ’er again,” he admitted. It was something he began doing after overhearing her crying to Auntie about how badly she missed her mother.
Considering what her own father had just done to her, Lily was deeply impacted by this stranger’s touching confession. She did not even know what to say in return. She just stared at him in silence, stunned that he would do and say something so incredibly kind. Her ability to speak became even more lost on her when she was suddenly captivated by the innocence of this young boys piercing blue eyes, as they peeked out at her from underneath his loose, curly brown hair. Lily had never looked at a white person in the eyes for long, because she knew better. But for reasons she could not understand at that moment, she found it hard to turn away from the beauty of his. She had seen James amongst the family members before, but this
was the first time she absorbed every detail of his features: how skinny he was, how he stood eye level with her, and how his blood-red lips stood out against his pale skin … but mostly his eyes. They were innocent eyes that somehow made her instantly feel at peace.
“I-I’m James,” he suddenly announced, switching the subject swiftly, not even realizing how his words had profoundly touched Lily.
“I’m Lily,” she replied, still staring at James as he stepped closer to her.
“What’s your turtle’s name?” he asked.
Lily finally managed to pull her eyes away from James and look down. She had been in such a deep trance that she had forgotten she was even holding a turtle. “Don’t know. Hadn’t even thought to give ’em a name.”
“I’ve seen ’em around here before. Maybe we should name ’em,” James suggested.
“Okay, let’s think ‘a somethin’.”
Lily sat down on a log next to her newfound friend. They sat shoulder to shoulder, looking just as comfortable as two people who had known each other from birth. James then reached over, took the turtle from Lily’s hands, and gave him a once over. “Maybe Jimmy?”
Lily leaned over and looked at him again. “Nah, he looks more like a Willie to me.”
“Hmm, yeah, kinda. Or maybe a Wilbur.”
“Yeah! I like it!”
“Wilbur it is then!” James said, lifting the turtle high in the air. That simple moment instantly ignited an incredible bond between the pair.
After that day, it became a ritual for James to return home from school and secretly help Lily with her housework while talking with her about his day. But Sunday was the day James looked forward to the most. It was the only full day the slaves were given off. While his family was distracted by their post-church gatherings, James would sneak away and spend the entire afternoon with his new best friend.
Every Sunday, James and Lily went on extravagant childhood adventures in their wooded playground paradise. They had foot races, pretend sword fights with sticks, fishing contests, and competitions to see who could collect the most crickets for Wilbur. James taught Lily how to skip rocks across the creek and how to swim. Their favorite pastime was climbing the tree where they had first met. Perched high up on its branches, James would read stories of fantasy adventures that they would later reenact. They were wise enough to keep their time together a secret. Their efforts worked well, allowing their friendship to blossom while they went about creating unforgettable memories that strengthened their bond over six long years.
As James and Lily grew older, rock skipping, cricket collecting, and tree climbing turned into long walks and laid back fishing in the shade, while having long conversations about all aspects of their lives. Despite all the things they had conversations about, though, Lily never revealed to James her ability to play piano. Fearing punishment, she refused to utter a word about it. James, however, hid nothing from her up to that point. Lily had become his greatest confidant and the closest person in his life. She was the sole reason James was excited to get out of bed in the morning, the reason he disliked going to school, and why he ran like mad to get home at the end of the day. James drowned in thoughts of Lily along the way to school, during class, and he often dreamed of her at night. James’s mind always seemed to be inundated with ideas of what new things he could share and experience with Lily. In fact, it was on the very last Sunday that they ever spent together that he revealed one of the new experiences he wished to have with her. Lily was sitting shoulder to shoulder with James underneath their childhood tree, listening to him read a story. When James finished, he turned to Lily and promised her that he would teach her to read and write. His willingness to do such a thing brought appreciative tears to Lily’s eyes. But just days before her lessons were set to begin an unforeseen circumstance caused their innocent six-year-long friendship to crumble.
James had come home from school eager to help Lily get done with her chores as usual. They were both on their hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor, laughing hysterically about an embarrassing incident that happened to James at school. They were laughing so loudly that they never heard James’s father walk into the kitchen. Jesse had left to go into town but had briefly returned to the house after forgetting some important paperwork. Instead of finding the papers, he found his son crouched on the floor like a servant. The very second James and Lily saw Jesse’s boots, their laughter immediately ceased. They both sprang to their feet, but Lily fell back onto the floor before she was completely upright. She lay there in tears, holding an eye that was quickly swelling. Jesse swung so quickly, Lily never saw his backslap coming. His heavy knuckles had connected right along her eye socket.
James was instantly irate. “Why’d you hit her?!” he screamed, stomping closer to his father, his face fire red.
“Who the hell you think you talkin’ to, boy?!” Jesse snarled. “She knows goddamn well she ain’t to be askin’ y’all for no help!”
“She didn’t ask! I wanted to help!” James fired back, fearlessly staring his father down.
“Have you lost y’ur goddamn mind?! What the hell you helpin’ ’er for?!”
“She’s my friend!” James erupted.
James suddenly stumbled backward and fell over the kitchen table, blood gushing from his mouth. The ferocity of his father’s punch sliced his lip wide open and loosened two of his bottom teeth.
Jesse realized at that moment that his sixteen-year-old son had become too spoiled over the years. He had always believed that James’s intelligence would take him to great places in life, so he had not worked him hard on the plantation. He had not taught James about the sort of man he expected him to be, like he had with his two older sons. But that all changed. From that day forward, Jesse became strict with James, hardly ever letting him out of his sight. He forced his son to work side by side with him in the fields after school overseeing the slaves. Jesse indoctrinated James with how God expected master/slave relationships to be conducted. He constantly preached that Negroes were born to be property, and that they were far too inferior to be worthy of being friends or family to anyone in the white race.
When Jesse’s racist lessons began, Sunday strolls and fishing adventures between James and Lily immediately ceased, right along with Lily’s chance to learn to read. Deep conversations about life turned into demeaning demands from her best friend, with the expectation that respectful replies of “yessa’” or “no sa’” were to be her only responses. For the two years remaining before James went away to medical school, he never spoke another kind word to Lily nor made another memory with her worth cherishing.
… Now, after six years apart, Lily was once again reunited with her former best friend in his father’s parlor, a place they once dusted together as they talked and laughed. But instead of Lily feeling a need to laugh, James’s dark presence began unburying the memories from the last months of their dying friendship. The way James used to look at her with such disdain and talk to her like she was nothing immediately came to her mind. No matter how Lily tried to empty those ugly memories into her music over the years, they had remained locked in her mind in perfect detail. Reliving those moments now had reawakened the loneliness, the hurt, the sorrow, and every other emotion that accompanied how horribly James began to treat her before he left to school. But being caught at the piano made the feelings somehow seem much more intense this time around.
After completing the song, Lily sat there stiffly, feeling a chill race down her spine under the icy glare of a man whose face she once smiled at seeing. James’s presence now only caused her to feel inferior and keep her eyes on the piano keys. His coldness was proving that Lily’s prayers had gone unanswered; he had not reverted into the kind boy who had befriended her in the woods. He seemed to still be the unkind man his father had taught him to be, one who was about to speak to her in a tone that she had grown to hate in the months before his departure.
“My fatha’ would whip you good if he knew you were touch
in’ this piano for anything otha’ than dustin’, don’t ya’?” James finally said.
“Yessa’.”
“So, you chose to defy his rules?”
“Masa’ James, it won’t eva’ happen again.” Lily sprang from her seat, suddenly wanting to get as far away from the piano as possible. “But please, I beg you not to tell yo’ fatha’,” she pleaded.
“How long’ve you been usin’ this piano like it was yo’ own property?”
Lily lowered her head, fearing the consequences of a truthful answer.
“Answa’ me!” James demanded, taking a step toward her.
Lily’s body stiffened, and she closed her eyes tightly, fearing that James would hit her. When he didn’t, she finally spoke. “S-since a few weeks afta’ your fatha’ bought me,” she confessed softly, her head still hanging low.
Her confession felt like a punch in James’s stomach. He thought that he and Lily had spoken about everything as children. He now wondered why she had not shared something of this magnitude with him all those years ago. Her major omission suddenly fueled his anger. “You’ve been playin’ for fourteen years?!” he shouted.
“Y-yessa’,” Lily stammered, her body trembling again.
“Did Auntie know?”
“Yessa’.”
“Well, it’s a good thing she’s dead then, isn’t it? ’Cause I’d have my fatha’ whip both ‘a y’all good for this!”
James intentionally tried to hurt Lily by mentioning Auntie. He knew she was the closest thing Lily had to a mother since being sold away from hers. Lily was devastated over her death, especially considering the way Jesse had not bothered giving her a proper funeral. After loyally taking care of two generations of Adams family, Jesse showed his appreciation by tossing her remains in the woods for animals to feast on. Lily had leaned on James during those days when she never seemed to be able to stop crying over Auntie’s loss, in much the same way that James had leaned on her after his mother’s death. With compassion, they had supported each other through every moment of unrelenting pain. But now, James spoke of Auntie to intentionally reopen old wounds. His venomous words instantly ignited a rage inside Lily. But she had learned, by watching other slaves over the years, that emotional outbursts were only rewarded with countless lashes of thick leather. She, therefore, exhaled and calmed herself before she replied. “Please, Masa’ James. I know I’ve broken the rules, but I promise you it won’t eva’ happen again.”