The Invention of Wings(20)

            She nodded her answers with her eyes shut.

            In the afternoon, Aunt-Sister brought some rice cakes and broth off a chicken. Mauma didn’t touch it. We always left the door open to get the light, and all day, noise and smells from the yard wandered in. Long a day as I ever lived.

            Mauma’s legs would walk again same as ever, but she never was the same inside. After that day, it seemed part of her was always back there waiting for the strap to be loosed. It seemed like that’s when she started laying her cold fire of hate.O





Sarah


            The morning after Easter, there was still no sign of Hetty. Between breakfast and my departure for Madame Ruffin’s school on Legare Street, Mother saw to it that I was shut in my room, copying a letter of apology to Reverend Hall.

            Dear Reverend Sir,

            I apologize for failing in my duties as a teacher in the Colored Sunday School of our dear St. Philip’s. I beg forgiveness for my reckless disregard of the curriculum and ask your forgiveness for my insolence toward you and your holy office.

            Your Remorseful and Repentant Soul,

            Sarah Grimké

            No sooner had I signed my name than Mother whisked me to the front door where Snow waited with the carriage, Mary already inside. Typically, Mary and I met the carriage out back, while Snow tarried, making us late.

            “Why has he come to collect us at the front?” I asked, to which Mother replied I should be more like my sister and not ask tedious questions.

            Snow turned and looked at me, and a kind of foreboding leaked from him.

            The whole day seemed strung upon a thin, vibrating wire. When I met with Thomas that afternoon on the piazza for my studies—my real studies—my unease had reached a peak.

            Twice weekly, we delved into Father’s books, into points of law, Latin, the history of the European world, and recently, the works of Voltaire. Thomas insisted I was too young for Voltaire. “He’s over your head!” He was, but naturally I’d flung myself into the Sea of Voltaire anyway and emerged with nothing more than several aphorisms. “Every man is guilty of all the good he didn’t do.” Such a notion made it virtually impossible to enjoy life! And this, “If God did not exist, man would have to invent him.” I didn’t know whether Reverend Hall had invented his God or I’d invented mine, but such ideas tantalized and disturbed me.

            I lived for these sessions with Thomas, but seated on the joggling board that day with the Latin primer on my lap, I couldn’t concentrate. The day was full of torpid warmth, of the smell of crabs being trolled from the ginger waters of the Ashley River.

            “Go on. Proceed,” said Thomas, leaning over to tap the book with his finger. “Water, master, son—nominative case, singular and plural.”

            “. . . . . . Aqua, aquae . . . Dominus, domini . . . Filius, filii. . . . . . Oh, Thomas, something is wrong!” I was thinking of Hetty’s absence, Mother’s behavior, Snow’s glumness. I’d sensed a moroseness in all of them—Aunt-Sister, Phoebe, Tomfry, Binah. Thomas must’ve felt it, too.

            “Sarah, you always know my mind,” he said. “I thought I’d concealed it, I should’ve known.”

            “. . . What is it?”

            “I don’t want to be a lawyer.”

            He’d misread my intent, but I didn’t say so—this was as riveting a secret as he’d ever revealed to me.

            “. . . Not a lawyer?”

            “I’ve never wanted to be a lawyer. It goes against my nature.” He gave me a tired smile. “You should be the lawyer. Father said you would be the greatest in South Carolina, do you remember?”