Isaac Shore glares at me. “You think the Friends are your friends? Think they can protect you? You cross me again, boy, and I’ll beat you till you can’t stand up. Then you won’t go running to the Friends for help. You won’t go anywhere.”
I believe him. He is a man who has terrible rages. I have seen him punching and beating his son, and sometimes his wife goes about with dark bruises on her face and arms. He could kill me if he loses his temper, so I work hard and keep out of his way.
I feel crushed, even though I know I have friends. I fear I will never escape this place, never see Miata again.
Isaac Shore does not trust me. At night he locks me in a shed. He puts a shackle on my right ankle and chains it to the wall. When the door is locked I sit in darkness, and evil spirits gather around me. I sleep at last, and wake to see light shining through the cracks in the walls. I remember how we sat and waited on the Light in Barbados. Sometimes I close my eyes and let my spirit go where it will. I see my village, whole, unburnt; I see my brothers and sisters and hear our squeals as we run and play; I hear my mother laughing; I see my friend Manhtee; I see a bright-winged bird I once caught and tried to keep. And then I weep because I understand now that I can never go home again.
Each week there is a market day in Philadelphia and people come to town from farms all around. My master’s wife takes me with her to the market to carry goods for her. I don’t try to escape when we go to town; I know I would be caught. The mistress chooses meat, fish, plums, apples, vegetables. I carry everything in a pannier on my back. One day, as I wait for her to choose, I look around and see a girl – it is Miata! She walks with a sway of her hips, balancing a basket of fruit on her head. Her belly is only a little rounded, but her breasts are large and full and her face is plumper than it was; her hair is braided and gleams with oil. She is beautiful. I leave the mistress paying for plums and step into Miata’s path.
“Tokpa!” Her eyes tell me she loves me still. How she outshines the pale, beak-nosed women! Now that I see her, all my hope comes rushing back.
“Miata, are they kind to you – the Outrams? They don’t beat you?”
“No,” she says. “They treat me well. But you…?”
I tell her quickly how much I hate my master, how the blacksmith’s wife cared for me after I was whipped and ran away. “Oh, but it gives me hope to see you—”
“Antony!” My mistress’s voice is angry. “Get over here!”
I touch hands with Miata and leave her.
My mistress stares after Miata and frowns. “Don’t you go sniffing around every black girl you set eyes on. Get back on the road. I’m finished now.”