I couldn't begin to tell you what its like being married to a huge slave plantation owner is like. Especially when that owner is Calvin J. Candie, Mississippi's 4th largest plantation. Having an arranged marriage with him at the age of 22, him being 30, was odd.
I was from a small town in Texas. My father knew Calvin's father, but after my father died, so did his fortune that kept my mother and I up. My mother thought of the bright idea for me to marry Calvin when we were older.
Calvin had his moments. Moments of utter fury and his moments where he was the sweetest man I had ever met. Calvin was a good husband, no doubt. He pampered me to the fullest extend. Expensive jewelry, the finest clothing, anything you could think of.
"Rose! Rose, let someone else do that. Your not even dressed yet! Calvin wants to have dinner in 30 minutes! You better get dressed." My annoying sister-in-law Lara Lee said. We have never liked each other at all. She was a racist bitch who thought her brother was way to good for me.
I huffed in frustration. I quickly did a good wiping of the turtle shell table that sat in the dining room. I threw the cloth to her face and smiled, "Fine." I gave her a smirk and made my way past her.
"Thank you" She mutters. I push past her and walk into the kitchen where I see the house slaves running around to hurry and finish dinner.
"Do you ya'll need any help?" I ask Cora, the head of the kitchen.
"No no, Miss Candie. Monsieur Candie said not to let you help in the kitchen anymore." Cora reminds me.
Calvin hated when I helped the slaves. He and I had different views of slavery. I saw it as degrading and vile, he saw it as a normal, like nothing was wrong. That was one thing no one understood about our relationship.
"Cora please, if you need help tell me. I can spare a few minutes to help you." I inform her. Cora smiles but gives me a firm shake of the head.
"Hey!" The snap of Stephen's booming voice makes me jump. "All of you get back to fuckin' work!"
"Stephen, they have everything done, can't they have a little break?" I ask him, knowing he has the authority over the house slaves.
"No no, Miss Candie." He forcifully chuckles. "Calvin wants ya upstairs." Stephen says, limping through the kitchen.
Stephen was a tall man, taller than I, and very old. 76 to be exact. He was always swearing, always. He's the head slave of the household. Before I could reply to him, a loud yell echoed through the entire house.
"WHERE IS MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE?!"
Calvin's yell was the loudest thing I'd ever heard. The whole plantation could probably hear it.
The thick drawl of his accent made me realize I better get upstairs before he gets upset. Calvin was a charming gentlemen, little things he did and said made me swoon over him. But when he said the word nigger, all his charm would disappear for a minute or so. His language at times was despicable to hear.
I almost pushed Stephen out the way to exit the kitchen. I heard Stephen mutter a "told ya so". I walk out into the massive foyer and up the stairs, my feet rushing underneath me. I ran to mine and Calvin's bedroom, quickly stripping out of my blue dress. I stood infront of my dresser, only in my panties and bra Calvin had bought me.
Our bedroom was illuminated by the few candles that sat ontop of our dressers. "Darlin' you gonna wear that to dinner tonight? If so, I say we skip dessert." Calvin rasps in my ear, kissing my neck.
"Calvin, not now. Im trying to get ready." I murmur, wiggling from his grip. Calvin huffed in frustration and lit his cigarette.
I'd be lying if I said Calvin didn't frighten me at some points. Certain things I did pissed him off the most. When we was at his high point of anger, he was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen. His voice was at it's loudest, the veins in his neck were more prominent, his knuckles were pale white from where he would ball his fists so tight.
I slip on my red dress and shoes as well. "Can you tie this?" I ask my husband. He struts over to me, his cigarette hanging from his lips. His fingers slowly trail down my back and begin to lace up my dress.
"I must say sweetheart, your ass looks mighty fine in this dress." Calvin groans into my ear as he finish's lacing up my dress. He spins me around so his lips capture mine. The taste of bourbon and cigarettes linger on his tongue. A taste I've become use to. His hand grasps the flesh of my backside in his hand making me gasp. "I will never get enough of you darlin'."
"Neither will I." I whisper, almost non-audible.
"What do you say you and I skip dinner and stay up here for awhile." Calvin says, putting out his cigarette.
"Calvin no. Were having dinner and then after dinner, we can come back upstairs and a bit of fun." I smirk as Calvin takes a sharp intake of breath at my words.
"Well then lets go my dear." He says, swatting my behind afterwards.