Chapter 4

Kindred Spirits

HOMAGE TO OCTAVIA BUTLER

I remember when I first met Madam LaPierre. That little chubby woman from France was nothing like any white lady I’d ever met. It’s because of her that you’re even here today, but we’ll get into that a little later. She was always so good to me. Around that time, slavery had been outlawed in France, so Madam never treated me like one. She used to say, “The carrier of such a gift should never be bound. Absurd. Absolutely absurd!” That’s “preposterous” in French. Madam was good for that, speaking English and French together. But I knew what she was saying. She taught me well.

You see, in her house I was free…well, as free as I could be. Madam’s husband died not long after they married, a bad heart. So she never had any children. In some ways, I was like the daughter she never had. On account of Madam’s husband having so much money and her comin’ from money too, she did nothing but travel and enjoy the finer things in life. My, my, when I think of all the amazing things that woman taught me, showed me and even bought me from all around the world, I can’t help but to smile! Yes indeed, your mama wore dresses that came from France, Africa, Germany, even Portugal! My Lord, I tell you, I’d never seen such fancy dresses, not even on Miss Elizabeth; and trust me, Miss Elizabeth didn’t like it one bit. Most times if a dress was really nice, I wouldn’t wear it home. There was no need of me bringin’ more attention to myself. I had enough of that already.

Sure, Master paid Madam LaPierre for my lessons, even threw in a few more dollars for my dresses, unbeknownst to Miss Elizabeth, but gettin’ her to take his money was like pullin’ teeth. She didn’t want or need it, but in the end she took it just to be done with him. I can still remember hearing Master McCullen and her fussin’. “Take the money, LaPierre! I know you don’t need it, but just do me the favor of allowing me to be a Southern gentleman.”

“Gentleman? Gentleman?! Is that what you’re calling yourself these days?”

“Now, LaPierre, let’s not make this about our differences of opinions. Just let me pay what I owe you.”

Master’s Southern drawl and puppy-dog eyes didn’t do nothin’ but make Madam more upset. You knew when she had enough, ‘cause she would start talkin’ in French; and when she did that, Master would just shake his head and walk off. Even though their words were hard, there was somethin’ agreeable between them. I can’t explain it except but to say that maybe Madam knew deep down that Master was a good man, he was just a man of his time. And maybe, just maybe, Master allowed her the room to be annoyed with him, ‘cause he knew when I was with Madam, I was free. Indeed, when I sang, I forgot ‘bout who I was. The gift God gave me allowed me to see past where I was, and took me to a space where nothing else mattered. Not color, not chains. Nothin’ but everything you can’t touch with your hands mattered.

You know, it’s funny how much Madam LaPierre and Mama had in common. Two totally different women, but kindred spirits. Like Mama, Madam believed that everything was nothing but sound made into matter. When the rain fell, Mama taught me to listen to her. “Sing with her, not over her,” she’d say. Then there was Madam, who would say things like, “Listen, Nady…it’s raining. Be still, be quiet, and listen to what the rain is saying. Can you hear her? Is she angry today, or is she lonely for the sun? Is she full, spilling over from the belly of her womb? Is she happy? Nady, do you hear her? My God, she’s giggling like a girl in love! Can you hear it?”

But Madam wasn’t always fun and easy goin’. No, no. I remember the first and last time she ever slapped me. We were outside, and oh, the sun was proud that day. My dress was soaked from sweat, but I had a dinner to prepare for, and Madam wouldn’t let me stop practicing until she was satisfied. I sang for hours that day, but nothing was good enough. Truth be told, it was me who was proud. Just as I was ‘bout to sing the best part of the song, Madam turned her head from me. The birds had her attention now. How dare she turn from me? Oh yes, my pride was burnin’ somethin’ bright that day, I tell ya!

So, I kept on singin’, louder and louder. She was going to pay attention to me and get me out of that hot sun! And then without pause, she went from searching for the birds that hid in the trees to turnin’ and slappin’ me in the face, all in one motion. Her little hand didn’t hurt my face; it was my pride that was bruised. “Don’t ever do that again!” she yelled. “The moment you think you are all that matters…that, my dear, will be the day that your song will no longer matter. Nady, this world is full of people who can sing far better than you. Leave room for the gift. Leave room for the people to hear the gift and merely see you at a glance.”

My eyes cried tears that I did my best to hold, but they fell just to spite me. They knew just like I did that I was out of order. It’s almost like everything in that day was out of order. The sun sent rays of rage, refusing me way, while Madam circled me for hours, waiting for me to get it right. I couldn’t get through one verse without hearing, “Again, de nouveau, again!”

Soon, Madam had had enough. She stormed off, rambling every angry French word she could think of. I had never felt so ashamed. Why was my voice fightin’ me? Wasn’t it my body that housed her, gave her breath, gave her shelter? That day was one of the first worst days of my life. But it was a day that had to happen. Madam had to stop me from where I was goin’ before pride was given a chance to fly. Lookin’ back now, I thank God for that day. I thank God that he sent Madam to me, and not just ‘cause she taught me to sing in French and Italian, and took me to fancy parties, but ‘cause she picked up where Mama left off. She taught me that this voice, this gift, was not mine alone to do with as I pleased. She taught me to respect it, need it, love and even fear it with everything within me.

Now, to be able to sing songs in their native tongue wasn’t enough for Madam. I had to know what I was singin’ ‘bout, and so she would always tell me what the song was about and even teach me French and Italian here and there. It got to the point where some days that’s all we did. “Taste the word,” she would say. “Love how it feels, Nady!” She was unyielding. Every word had to be just right. I later found out that Master knew what Madam was doin’, but he never pressed me.

I had singin’ lessons just ‘bout every day. Before every lesson, Madam LaPierre had me change into the dresses that she bought for me. “Rags” she said in French. She’d complain when I arrived from home wearing my regular clothes. Madam LaPierre would send the carriage for me, give me my lesson, have dinner with me, and then I was on my way back home. There were days I would only sing one or two songs, while others I did nothing but practice sayin’ the words. But then there were days when she’d let me be. She’d let me do whatever I wanted—swing out back, dance to her playing the piano, whatever my little heart desired. She withheld no good thing from me. Once I was back home, I’d go see what Mama wanted me to do. If I hadn’t had dinner, I’d eat, and when he was here at night, I was off to Mattie’s room to sing him his lullaby.

From the very first time I saw Mattie, since the day he was born, it was my job to sing him to sleep every single night. Even though Mattie was my master, he never acted like it. We did almost everything together, at least when I wasn’t with Jaydith. Mattie was as good of a man as his father, in some ways better. When I was with him, I never held my tongue; I said whatever I wanted, how and when I wanted. But I had to be careful, always mindful of who could have been watchin’ and listenin’.

But every night, when the sun was set, I’d look to see if Mattie had lit the candle in his window. When I saw it, I went through the back kitchen entrance, up the stairs and around the corner. There was a back door that led just to his room. I’d knock, turn the knob and enter quietly. Even though I entered through the back kitchen hallway, I always knew Miss Elizabeth kept an eye and ear on me—on us—so I was never loud and never late.

Back then, it wasn’t unusual for Mattie to go away for months, sometime a year at a time, for his schooling at Willington Academy, and then when he was much older West Point. There was a period when I hadn’t seen him for couple of years, and it showed. The Mattie that left and the Mattie that came back to the McCullen plantation was two different people. Seem like that last time he left a boy, and came back a man. Even though I had a couple of years on him, Mattie looked much older than me, especially when he returned home that last time. Seem like right when I stopped growin’, he started. He was tall and had the build of a man. Now he towered over me. His eyes…they no longer roamed like water looking for reason. Now they had purpose.

I can’t tell you why that surprised me so. Of course he grew; of course he would be different; time had stood still for neither of us. Lord knows I wasn’t the same little girl who stood on the porch and watched him leave just a few years earlier. Now, my eyes weren’t all that were full of wonder; so were my breasts. My legs were long and my hips full to my small frame. My hair was thick and long like black cotton. My lips, my eyes and all that was in me responded to him in a way that hadn’t before, and that scared me half to death.

Waiting for day to end and night to fall after Mattie had returned from being away for so long was like waiting for eternity to come to an end. But as always, he lit his candle, and when I saw it I made my way to his room, just as I had always done.

I held my breath, turned the doorknob and walked in. At first I didn’t see him, and immediately my heart sank. I was standing there confused until he came from behind me, grabbed me by my waist and yelled, “Boo!”

By instinct alone I hit him dead in his chest. “Mattie! That’s not funny!”

“I think it’s hilarious!”

“I bet you do!”

“My God, Nady, look at you…you’re not a little girl anymore. Where did your pigtails go?”

“The same place your pimples went!” And just like that, I had my friend back. We talked and laughed for what seemed like hours. He told me all ’bout his travels, and I told him all ’bout mine.

“Truth be told, I couldn’t wait to get back home,” he said. Something in me had hoped he missed me, but that hope was shot down as quickly as it came to mind. “Nady, I’ve done the work, and I’ve found that nobody makes sweetbread like Mammie Dee!”

“Oh, I know! Mattie, everybody’s been trying to get at that sweetbread all day, and Mammie Dee’s been beating us off like flies!”

“No, seriously. Look at you. The last time I was home, you weren’t here. Off singing somewhere.”

“Tennessee, I think it was. Got caught in some bad weather after the dinner. Madam thought it best we wait it out.”

“I was sorry I missed you. No one at the academy can believe you sing in French and Italian. It’s quite amazing, really.” He smiled.

Two candles and a bunch of laughter later, we both knew it was past time for me to sing and be on my way, but neither one of us wanted to let go. For the first time that night, there was silence…a strange silence. “Well, I guess it’s time for your song,” I said quietly. “You still want it?”

He looked at me long and steady, his eyes on me like never before, and said, “I’ll always want it,” and then I knew all my wondering had been put to rest; everything had changed. My mouth went dry and my heartbeat made my whole-body shake. Before I knew it, he had found his way to me. He stood so close, I swore he could feel me trembling. Maybe that’s why he passed me and slowly made his way to the bed. And just as she had done so many times before, melody found her way to my lips, and I sang him to his resting place. Finally, we both were calm, back to a place and space we both knew very well. Old times had returned.

The next morning, I saw him out back on his horse. Both him and Master were coming in from their ride. Master was so proud. Time had indeed been kind to Mattie. All I could think was, who was this man pretending to be the boy I sang to sleep at night? Why did he make me so nervous now? Without knowing it, I found myself hiding behind doors and window curtains, just so I could get a better look at his arms and the deepness of his back line. My goodness, it was like I couldn’t get enough of something I never had.

I waited for Master to leave, and when Mattie put his horse back into the stable, I made my way to the gate so that we were standing face-to-face. Somehow, I don’t think he was surprised to see me. “Enjoy your ride?” I asked.

As he leaned over the barrel of water to wash his face he said, “Just like old times. You know what? I take that back. Better than old times. I’m able to handle the ol’ girl now. She can’t throw me around like she did when I was a boy,” his words sayin’ more than what was on the surface. His smirk was slight, but a visible smile made it so. Without stopping, he kept washing his face, I suppose to keep from making eye contact with me. I remember he kinda smiled as he kneeled over the water, searching for my response, but I didn’t give in. Instead, I turned my head in the direction of the sun. “Seem like lots changed since I’ve been gone,” he went on.

“It has,” I murmured, still looking away.

“Bound to happen…” he said with nothing but the gate between us.

“I guess. Mama always said ain’t nothing we can do ‘bout change, might as well learn to love her.”

“And do you?” he asked.

“Do I what?”

“Love her…change?”

“Depends. Sometimes I hate her, fight her with everything I’ve got. But other times, seem like I can’t get enough of her, wonder what she’ll do tomorrow.”

“Or tonight…” he whispered. And with those last words, he brushed my chin real soft-like with his hand, all the while looking me deep in my eyes, saying everything I wanted him to, without mumbling a single word. “I’ll be waiting for my song tonight…that will never change.” And then just like that, he walked off. It took me a minute to think ’bout what had just happened. Mattie never looked at me or touched me like that. But then again, I guess I was guilty of the same.