Before I am Famous

literature is something we infer after the story is told

What is Friendship?

Posted on | November 26, 2007 |

The following story deals with sensitive issues and there are cases of violence. However the story is based on some historical fact, please remember that as you read.

Marianne looked out of her bedroom window overlooking the cypress trees. The high pitched lady cackle wafted upstairs, another summer of heat and loneliness. She was bored of her toys. Her friends from school lived miles away and there would be no way to see them. Walking downstairs to the kitchen where Mamie prepared the afternoon meal. Her skirts rustled around as she barked orders to the kitchen slaves.

“Mamie,” Marianne greeted.

“Miss, you hungry or sumthin?” she asked.

“No thank you. I just wanted to talk.”

“Aww, sorry Miss. We’s cookin a big meal for your mother’s friends. Don’t have no time,” she replied.

Marianne went out back into the oppressive North Carolina heat. She walked to the Negro section. Her father forbade her to go to where the slaves lived but he was away and her mother was too busy drinking lemonade she couldn’t drink. A Negro girl about her age played with a doll made of corncob and ripped up rags. The girl was alone.

“Good afternoon,” Marianne called.

The girl stopped and looked up at her, wide eyed. The she looked downward, “good afternoon, Miss,” she replied quietly.

Marianne approached, “what’s your name?”

“Azaria.”

“My name is Marianne,” she said sitting next to her. Azaria remained frozen. Marianne continued, “that’s a nice doll. Do you have any others?” The girl shook her head no. “I like dolls too. Father gives me a new doll every time he comes back home. Do you want to play dolls with me?” Azaria said nothing. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, I’ll get some of my dolls and I’ll be right back. Will you be here?”

Azaria nodded. Marianne ran back to the house. No one watched her, so she could run. Slipping up the back staircase to her room, she retrieved two dolls one with blonde ringlets and one with brown ringlets and ribbons. On her way, Mamie called her, “you gonna eat?”

“I’m not hungry. It’s too hot. Tell mother I’m playing with my dolls in the garden,” Marianne replied, dashing out the door.

She found Azaria in the same spot playing with her doll. Giving the brown haired doll to Azaria she said, “here, you can play with this one.”

At first, Azaria was apprehensive but soon eased into playing. A friendship started under the North Carolina sun. Soon the girls met everyday; they walked, talked and played together. It was a friendship only children could forge. Marianne and Azaria kept their friendship secret because even at ten they both knew how bad things could happen if someone knew.

On a hazy August day, Marianne gave Azaria the brown haired doll. Azaria promised to keep the doll hidden. Shortly after Marianne bestowed the doll to Azaria her father returned home with a sour look on his face. He dutifully hugged Marianne and presented her with another doll. With her father being home it made it much harder for the girls to play together.

At night over the chirping crickets, scream and sobs meandered in through the open window. She grew up with the daily wails but tears still fell from her eyes and fear always crept over her.

Close to the end of the growing season, Azaria took off from the field and met Marianne at the cypress tree. Azaria brought her doll. They laughed as the girls pretended their dolls to be women they knew.

“Marianne Elizabeth Windsor!!” her father roared, catching sight of the playmates. He grabbed her arm, “What are you doing consorting with this animal?”

“Daddy, she’s my friend,” Marianne defended Azaria.

Her father peered into Marianne’s eyes and commanded her to go to the house. “No, daddy.”

“Look here, you listen to me. You disobey, you get the switch. Go!” her father yelled. Marianne dashed towards the house. She watched her father drag Azaria down to where the Negroes lived by her hair.

Waiting until they were far enough away, Marianne followed. She knew she would get the switch but only once. Marianne also knew Azaria would be switched too many times. Ducking behind a tree, she saw her father tie Azaria’s hands above her head, her back exposed. Azaria cried. Marianne had to do something.

Her father raised his right-hand, whip ready to strike. Marianne left her spot behind the tree and grabbed onto his arm. He shook her off and she landed with a thud.

He whipped the girl once. Raising his arm again, Marianne rose to her feet and went for his arm. In a blind fury of disrespect and disobedience, his back hand connected with his daughter’s face, breaking it much like the china doll Azaria had in her possession. Marianne hit her head against the wood beam. She heard Azaria yell her name in between tears. The world fogged. The blue sky swirled. Her father bent over her, yelling for help. Oppressive heat turned to ice.

A special thanks to Katie from Adventures in Hong Kong- Tales from the Wan Family for help with this story!!

comment from blogger

Dadu said…
Wow, Very Good

Category: weekly shorts

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