Descendants of Hagar

by Nik Nicholson

  There was some feeling that the younger ones didn’t understand what they had inherited, or that they made decisions like the other folks in town didn’t exist. Miemay stood for all the people of Zion, and never chose to make a dollar at one soul’s expense. Sometimes, she took a favored girl child with ‘a to witness and understand. When Miemay got sick, she charged that girl child to attend every meeting, and vote on her behalf.

  Not wanting to make a mistake, I paid close attention. I read newspapers from all the local cities and towns. Sometimes I knew things, even my own daddy didn’t. On top of that, Miemay taught me to hold my head up, and not get small for men, or other people. She told me to always look people in their eyes, at their soul, and not only listen, but feel what they be saying.

  I was being taught and trusted to make decisions on behalf of my grandmother. Miemay always asked why I made one decision or another. We’d discuss facts, feelings and consequences. Miemay taught me how to look at a thing from every angle. Then, after listening to my reasoning bout one decision or vote, she’d either agree or say why she would’ve made a different choice.

  Still she wouldn’t tear me down or fuss at me. Sometimes she’d even say, “You so smart” or “You sharp as a nail,” like she was proud. Then she’d get all excited and start smiling and rocking ‘aself looking at me. I learned to decide, not beat myself up, to trust my thoughts and my intuition.

  Miemay ain’t never talk to me about being no lady, or how to act like one, cause I was a woman and would be, no matter what I did. She respected me, and others respected me cause of her respect, and the way she taught me to act. They came to expect me to be how I am, more than how they expected and wanted all girls to be.

  That’s why me and Daddy always use to sit on the porch talking bout things after supper. After a long day in the field, we might sit in total silence and just stare off in the night. So when Granger and Daddy took their coffee on the porch and began to talk, I got me a mug and settled down there to talk as well.

  Then Granger said something that didn’t make sense. At first Daddy was calm, and I followed his lead. We was gone let it slide, but Granger went on and on like he knew what he was talking bout.

  Made me think I was crazy, so I started questioning him, and asking him to explain. He started to stutter like he had some kinda speaking problem, and then he got mad. Iain realize he was mad right then, so I’m recounting facts and comparing ’em to what he said.

  Fore I know anything, he done started saying that’s why ain no man gone have me, and he ain’t never met no woman like me. Then I’d laughed, unmoved by his words. I even told him, “I’d be a better woman if I was more like you. If Iain have no facts, just go off how I feel. Just run my mouth to hear myself talk, and don’t give a care to who I might be speaking to.”

  That set him off. He started speaking only to Daddy, saying I was a handful, and that Daddy what’n gone never get rid of me talking like I do. Then I’d said to anyone who was listening, Daddy might wont to consider who Grit is marrying. Considering this man would make such a good woman, seeing as how he ruled by his emotions, and cain’t see the point for stating how he feel.

  Daddy agreed with me about the matter, but Granger hit a sore spot when he said I’d never get married. Daddy couldn’t allow a woman to talk to no man like that, and then side with that woman against a man. I was a woman first, before I was right. I was to remain mute, dumb, docile, and just above a child. So he reminded me, like children, women were to be seen and not heard.

  I can hear Daddy indignant with the audacity of me to sit among men, even though he’d raised me in the comfort of them my whole life. “Gitcho ass back in the kitchen wicha Mama nem!” He’d sat up in his chair, scooting to the edge of his seat, and holding his weight ready to attack me. Some of that was about him showing out. Some of it was because he felt I was showing out, even though it was common practice for him and me to talk town business.

  I moved, cause even though Daddy hadn’t beat Mama since my brothers got grown, and Isaiah threatened to fight ’im one evening when he raised up like he might hit Mama. I what’n under that protection, daughters are always children long as they under they parents’ roof. I know women been beat and slap by they mama and daddy well into they thirties and forties. You ain’t never too old to be beat, long as you a woman. If you get married, you become a child to yo husband.

  I never cared for conversations with other women. They always seem to discuss who liked who, and who was sleeping with who, or who got new this or that. Now when me and Daddy talk, or when I talk with other men, we talk about what it would mean to grow more cotton. How cotton ruined the soil, and the best way to rotate the crop. We talk about the best things to feed horses, cows and mules to keep ’em strong and keep ’em from getting sick. We talk about missing the old days, when we could sell meat to travelers in open markets before the Food and Drug Administration. We talk about how as much as we hate the new laws, they do good things too. Like, they stop swindlers from coming to our town selling us all kinds of elixirs to cure every ailment from exhaustion to broken bones, when the medicine ain’t never nothing more than sugar water. We discuss the cost of crops, and what local town’s people need from the Zion store, or the rising or lowering cost of different imported and exported goods.

  Men talk money, going places, laws, and building things. Which seems to matter more to me, than who sweet on who. They never sit around talking bout women, or maybe they do and because I’m a woman they just don’t around me. I cain’t imagine it though, cause a man saying he like some woman is like asking to be janked. All the married men seem to go on about needing a break from they wives. They always saying, “I wish more women was like you.”

  Then again, the way they talk about women when I ain’t around probly ain have no love in it, and no reason to get them janked. Shoot, now that I think about it, maybe I’m the woman they be talking bout. Cause I sho feels it, the change.

  When I was a girl and I knew things, my daddy was proud and other men would be amazed by what I knew. I could show they sons something, and learn from ’em too. They liked teaching and learning things with me.

  Now that them same boys men, it’s different. Some rather do something wrong, and pretend to know over letting a woman tell ’em. Some go ask another man. Daddy or one of my brothers always have to cosign on what I be saying now. Men go back and forth, from wanting me, fearing me and hating me. The more I think about it, I feels it all the time. Them thinking I should be broken, and sometimes wishing they could break me.

  So I got right on up without another word. I remember now, how embarrassed I was Daddy let Granger speak to me like that, and then how Daddy spoke to me in front of Granger.

  I remember what Daddy said to Granger as I walked away, “I tried to marry ‘a off, but she just too damned willful, and that’s my fault. As God as my witness, Iain try to spoil that girl. I always knew my girls would one day have to leave, but the others were different, they had one foot out the door soon as they could walk. Linny the only one listened to me and I’m shame to say, I taught ‘a almost everything I knew. I was proud of ‘a, and prayed she wouldn’t never be like ‘a sisters.

  “No man wants a woman who know more, or think she know more than him. Now she gone be a burden to me the rest of my life, and then one to ‘a brothers after I die. That’s why they say be careful what you ask for, cause I swear Iain never seen a man turn ‘a head.”

  I don’t care if a man never looks at me. But something bout Daddy saying I was a burden on him, and would be one on my brothers, too, weighed heavy on me.

  When I got in the kitchen, Mama was waiting to pick up where Daddy left off. Snatching the cup of coffee from my hands, she told me, “They always said you was the prettiest of my girls, but look at you now. An old maid!

  “Let ya youngest sister beat chu out the house, and you still ain’t got a lick a sense. Cain’t blame ya daddy for everythang wrong wicha. He mighta raised you like a b
oy, but you still a woman. Some of your natural instincts ought to take over. But it don’t do you no good, do it?” She stood staring at me for a while, before turning back to Grit, who she was giving another one of ‘a classes on how to be a good wife.

  “Come stand next to me, hopefully one day you’ll need to know this, too.” Then she told my sister, my baby sister, “Give him more milk than coffee. Just enough to give it the coffee taste. Otherwise, you’ll never get no sleep. He’ll be after you all night. Less that’s what you like.”

  I remember feeling like I would cry. Thinking bout coffee and its potency making him more potent or not. I remember feeling like she was selling my sister, and thinking my sister felt sold. I remember my sister being considerate and attentive to details, while tears rolled silently down ‘a face, feeling trapped, I assumed. Felt like I was screaming inside and I wanted to cry, too.

  I stood next to Grit, interlaced my fingers with hers. When Mama was away, getting more things for ‘a perfect wife lessons, I’d said to Grit, “You don’t have to do this.”

  But Grit was there to see how cruel our parents had treated me after I refused to marry. Considering that, she’d probly felt it better to go kicking and screaming into marriage, with a man she had no love for, over being here. Where every day she woke up under they roof, she’d be reminded of how much of a disappointment she was to them.

  “I am not strong like you,” Grit broke into loud audible sobs snatching ‘a hand away from mine, bracing herself against the counter like she would fall.

  Then Mama came back in the kitchen. For a moment, she ain say a word, just looked at me and then at Grit. Like she could read our hearts. Then she slapped me, and blamed me for Grit being upset.

  Chapter Fourteen

  WORRIED

  “I should have listened to you, you know.” Grit grabs my hand, smiling sadly, pulling me back to this moment.

  I don’t take much heed to ‘a words. Pregnant women always talk crazy when they wrapped up in the fear of they baby coming, and the pain of it arriving. Mothers with twelve kids say birth never is easy, though it gets easier. The pain is never anything you get use to.

  “Are you tired?” I ask Grit, looking in ‘a eyes, concerned about ‘a laying down.

  Miemay use to always say she didn’t know where women learned to have babies on they back. I guess it’s harder on their body to do it that way. And folks who had babies on they back and then had babies with Miemay, always said Miemay knew best, and walking round and squatting worked best.

  Miemay would curse organized medicine, and doctors, and men who never had children telling women how to have babies. Cain’t even imagine a man telling me how to do something with my body, but they do in some places. I’ve heard of women going to hospitals and letting men cut them open to take the baby out.

  “Mama told me to lay down but my backs hurting,” Grit whines like a baby, and I baby ‘a too.

  “Get up.” I pull Grit up with me as I stand, “Let’s walk around up here.”

  “You always do everything like Miemay, don’t you?” Grit laughs and follows my lead.

  I wonder if she really wanted to lie down, and if she isn’t just doing this to please me, so I say, “This moment bout you right now. Don’t let me push you if this ain’t what you want. You having the baby, whatever you want be fine with me. You wanna walk around or lay down?”

  “Linny,” Grit smiles, “You always looking out for me, I feel alright telling you how I really feel.”

  I take a few deep breaths, accepting what she say. The way Grit looks at me warms me, eases me.

  “It’s what I want. I had my last baby over a pad on the floor. Mama was so mad, but I spose it be better than having one on my back. And I felt good afterwards. Shoot, I coulda cooked Thanksgiving dinner after that baby came. What’n a whole lot of soreness like with the first one. I think cause Iain have the second one on my back like Mama insisted, and cause I listened to Miemay.

  “Miemay told me not to lay around, and walk while I was pregnant. She said fat lazy women have the hardest times. But Mama say it was easier cause I done it before. She say it get easier every time. Maybe it’s all that and then nothing at all.”

  I smile at Miemay’s words, cause I done heard ‘a give that advice a thousand times. Then I go start a fire in the fireplace, so when it’s time, I can heat some water upstairs, too. “Think you want to rest in the tub again?”

  “That bath did help earlier. I don’t know what happened. Felt like the baby was ready to come. I mean, I had low back pains and no matter how I turned, they kept getting worse. Then I git to yo house, and for some reason my body just stop opening.”

  “It happens like that some times. Cain’t be too worried. Too much noise, or fussing, or you just get all upset, and fore you know it, the baby done went on back in there to wait for a better time.”

  “Ha ha ha,” Grit laughs and slaps my arm. “Linny, you such a mess. Sound like Miemay. I’m so glad you here this time. Want you to be here with me when I have this one, and the next one.”

  I nod smiling, moved and a little emotional cause I really want to be here. “All the way,” I say, grabbing ‘a hand, and we walk.

  Then she drop in a squat, bear over, and moan. The contractions are back and I know these the real ones.

  “Boil me some water!” I yell down stairs. Then I fill the bath pot in the bathroom, and put it over the fireplace in ‘a room. I get some padding and place it on the dresser. I already know she ain trying to have this one in the bed either. I hear feet stomping heavy up the steps coming to help.

  “Linny, git out of here,” Mama say soon as she walk in.

  “Yeah this ain’t no place for you,” Jenny agree.

  “Linny, stay!” Grit scream, looking up, one hand on the edge of the bed, the other on ‘a knee squatting.

  “Move, move, move,” Ella come from behind them with a pot of hot water she musta just knew to be boiling. Then Mozelle behind ‘a with empty bowls to wash hands. Everyone starts to move.

  I get Miemay’s bag and start setting things out on the dresser again. I go get the chair because Grit is dead set against laying down, she walking this one out. Whenever she’s not bearing down to ride the contractions, she holding on to the wall, and taking steps while breathing. Miemay woulda been so proud.

  I wash my hands, and get the orange stick to scrub my nails. I roll my sleeves up and soap my hands several times. Ella runs water so hot over my hands, I have to shake them a bit. We lay out the towels and the old t-shirt. I get the basin for ‘a to squat over.

  “Can I see,” I ask standing a good distance away, cause new mothers like quiet and they don’t like feeling attacked. Putting ‘a leg up on the chair and hiking up her gown she show me ‘a openness. I’ve helped deliver babies a few times, but this time is different. It’s my baby sister having a baby. “You doing good, Grit.”

  Frowning and nodding ‘a head thanks, Grit bears down again on the chair. I put my hands between ‘a legs and feel the warm wetness. I push my hand up inside of ‘a to see how open she is, and I can feel the baby making its way down out of ‘a.

  “Come on now.” I sit down in the chair and let ‘a lean back on me while she squat over the little tub we done filled with material and newspaper to catch the baby, and all the stuff it be wrapped in sometimes when it come out.

  The sound of hands being washed with orange sticks sooths the silence. Until Mozelle pours water over their hands to rinse away the soap.

  Putting ‘a armpits on my thighs, Grit leans back against me. I’m glad I’m in pants so my dress won’t be getting all in the way. She quiet as she riding them pains.

  “Breathe,” Ella remind Grit, when we don’t hear nothing. Then Ella hit my arm, pull me up from behind Grit.

  I hesitate, looking at Mama and Jenny. This ain the time to be trying to show out or nothing. I just want to be here. I feel like if I come from behind Grit they gone find a reason to throw me out.

&nbs
p; When I pull back from Ella too many times she say warmly, “Ita be okay.”

  Then Jenny start fussing. “I cain’t hardly stand to watch this! Ain got no midwife, got a girl ain’t got child to the dang first doing women’s work. And Grit shouldn’t be having no baby over no pail. She need to git in the-”

  “GIT OUT!” Grit manages, screaming and interrupting Jenny.

  “Well, least we know she breathing,” Ella jokes, laughing.

  “Go on, Jenny! Git out! Git down stairs! I don’t want to hear no moe shit tonight.”

  “Alright nah, I know you in pain but ain no cause to talk like that.” Mama stands waiting to help, watching and taking steps in and back trying to find a place.

  “You can git, too,” Grit spit, looking up at Mama like she possessed.

  “Gone now, Jenny. She need ‘a mama here,” Mama cosigns and surrenders to my surprise. Some part of me feels bad that Jenny is being kicked out. I know what it feels like to be left out.

  I don’t know if Jenny ever leave or not. I’m guiding the baby out, and telling Grit how to push to keep from tearing. Ella holding Grit in ‘a arms and riding the pains with ‘a.

  When I hear Mama call out the door, “Send that midwife up soon as she git here.”

  “Baby be here fore the midwife,” Ella warn.

  “I’m gone go downstairs and brang some more towels up,” Mozelle offer.

  “It’s coming!” Grit scream, gritting ‘a teeth, balling ‘a fist up and throwing ‘a head back.

  “Easy, push slow,” I say, guiding the baby’s head, turning its body so the shoulders don’t rip ‘a down to ‘a tail. The urge to push too much for ‘a tho, and she push hard, then it do spill out in my arms.