A/N: I have quite a few unfinished stories going on right now but I have a bad habit of getting an idea in my head and having to act on it. So, I've been re-reading The Help and I really don't know why I didn't think of doing this months ago. Reviews are nice but not necessary, they mostly just let me know if you guys are reading which is really all that matters, I don't need my ego boosted ;)
Mississippi. 1959.
I had dreams. Big dreams. But it didn't matter. My life was mapped out the second I was born.
I had a good childhood. Money was scarce but I grew up in a tight knit community that helped eachother out. My father had run out on us when I was four years old; I didn't remember much about him 'cept that he was kind, my friends often spoke bout how they fathers would come home in the evening time all worked up and angry and beat they mothers for an hour straight, but my father never touched my mama with a violent hand.
He worked at Hudson and Hummel lumber yard, earning a dollar thirty five an hour and when he left, my mama was forced to take on more work. It took its toll on her. She seemed to age 10 years in the months that followed. My brother took on the roll of man of the house, he left school and worked with my mama up at the Fabray estate as a gardener.
My mama was stern, she didn't take no flack or backtalk, but she was gentle and patient. She worked as a maid, like all the other women in our neighborhood, and I knew I would be no different. I despised the thought of serving white folk after hearing the stories my mama and her friends would talk bout when they thought I was sleepin', but I didn't have no choice. I had never had much contact with white people but from the little interactions I did have with them, I didn't like what I saw. They were cruel and dismissive. They could make you feel two feet tall with just a look.
We lost my brother in the Spring of 1959, he got beat up real bad by some white boys on his way home from fishin'; by time we got to him, he was dead. The little piece of my mama that was still alive when my daddy left, was gone after that. There was no sparkle left in her eyes and she never smiled. She didn't even get out of bed most days. A messenger boy had arrived at the house one day, sent by the Fabrays to tell my mama she was fired. I had gone to their estate and offered to work in her place but they said they had no need for an inexperienced child. I knew they didn't really care about my lack of experience or about my age, they were tryna teach my mama a lesson, they were mad that she hadn't returned to work immediately. I had heard rumours of kind white folk, and I'm sure they existed, but the Fabrays certainly didn't fall into that bracket.
The landlord was becoming impatient. He had been reasonably understanding about the delayed rent at first having lost a nephew to the KKK the previous year, but he was growing restless. I dropped out of school in order to help my mother out, I could tell she felt bad but didn't even have the energy to try and stop me.
In late June, a new family had moved to the area; their house was located just outside of town. I hadn't seen the house but imagined it would be pretty big. All houses on the outskirts were generally much larger than the ones closer to town. They were looking to hire a three maids; that also prompted me to think the house was larger than average. Most folk only had need for one.
My mama's best friend, Minnie Jones, got me the job at the Pierce estate. She had quit her job and sought this one too. Her daughter, Mercedes was my age and she too had left school to help her parents with the bills. Minnie had walked the six miles to the Pierce estate three days ago and offered her services, told them she had two fine young girls to make up the other two vacancies too and they accepted. She said the Pierces seemed like nice enough folk and gave the three of us the job without much hesitation.
To my knowledge, Mrs Jones had enjoyed working for her previous employers well enough. They were elderly but they gave her fair pay and treated her with more kindness than most; I figured she only took the job with the Pierces to keep an eye out for Mercedes and me.
It was a hot July morning when the three of us set off for our first day at Whitefield, as the house was so named. Like everyone else in the neighborhood we took the bus. It was cramped and uncomfortable with the blazing heat but we'd been thought from a young age not to complain about such fruitless matters.
Mrs Jones sat behind us, going over rules of behavior and correct mannerisms for the fifth time that morning. I had stopped paying attention on the third round, too nervous to retain anything else she had to say. My mama had tried to prepare me the night before for what to expect. She said it was likely the Pierces had a young family and that my main priority would probably be looking after the chilluns. At 15 I thought that was a heavy responsibility to put on someone of my age but my mama told me she done raised her first baby when she was just 13. I fidgeted at the thought, I was the youngest in my family and never had to look after someone else before. I wanted to burst into tears but my pride wouldn't allow for it. I was sassy and loud, two qualities I had been warned not to exhibit while at work. Mercedes was much friendlier than me, she got in a lot less fights too, I was always the scuffler of the pair of us; we didn't have much in common but we somehow still managed to be friends.
The bus came to a halt in front of an intimidatingly long driveway, most of the buses occupants had already departed, leaving only the handful of outskirt maids. Dust floated through the air in the vehicle's wake as it sped off. We didn't move, just stared in awe at the sight before us.
It was rare that I visited the outskirts of town; usually only to go to the nicer part of the river on particularly hot days. It was fine for people like us to swim in the river because there was never a chance of white folk coming to claim the spot, they wouldn't be caught dead there, they had community swimming pools. But even during my trips to the river, I had never seen many houses, maybe one or two, but always at a distance. This was definitely the closest I'd ever gotten to one, and it was magnificent – three stories tall, with large white pillars and cute navy shutters on each window, a long decking ran the length of the house and a beautiful porch swing swayed (even though there was no wind), the garden was long and stunning red roses formed a boarder around the lawn, blue deck chairs were placed under the largest tree in the yard and though the sun fell directly on them now, it was easy to tell they had been located for the shade the tree would provide. I was completely mesmerized. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined a house as grand as the one I stood before.
"Come on child" Mrs Jones snapped me out of my reverie, pulling me by the arm towards the front door.
A tall blonde woman greeted us before we made it up the final steps of the decking, she wasn't young but didn't look old either, and judging from how pale and soft her skin looked I'd bet she never worked a day in her life.
"Welcome Minnie" she sang warmly in her country drawl, embracing Mercedes' mother. I thought this a strange interaction, never before had I witnessed a white person be so welcoming to a person of color, let alone initiate a hug.
"Mornin' Miss Pierce." Minnie looked obviously uncomfortable by the advance but Mrs Pierce seemed not to have noticed. She pulled away and turned her attention to Mercedes and I.
"Oooh, and you two must be the fine young ladies Minnie told me about." She grabbed Mercedes for a hug, I watched slightly amused as my friend went completely rigid, unsure of how to respond. "Mercedes right?" the woman questioned. Mercedes simply nodded in response.
Mercedes was of a darker complexion to me and the spitting image of her mother; I guess Minnie had informed the woman of our names.
"Which must make you Santana. My, aren't you a pretty little thing!" She turned on me with a bright, eager smile.
"Yes ma'am" I braced myself for the hug I knew was coming, but nothing could have prepared me for the bone crushing embrace of this woman. My mama had once told me, in her experience, white folk weren't much for huggin' so she would give their babies an extra big hug when she arrived in the mornins' and before she left in the evenin' time in case it was the only affection they was shown all day. Clearly this theory wasn't entirely accurate.
"Please, no 'Miss Pierce' or 'ma'am'" the blonde woman insisted, stepping away from me and shaking her head for emphasis. "It makes me feel old. Call me Elizabeth or Lizzie if you'd like." She winked playfully.
I couldn't quite figure this woman out, her behavior went against everything I had been brought up believing. There was such warmth and kindness in her eyes and nothing about her tone of voice was even slightly patronizing.
I was further surprised when she excitedly grabbed my hand. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the family. She began dragging me through the front door, I reached out for Mercedes' hand and pulled her with me, noticing a small yet amused smirk form on her mother's face at my panic.
"GIRLSSSSS" Elizabeth bellowed from the end of the stars. "Come downstairs."
A few moments of silents passed before a shuffle of footsteps made their way across the landing and down the stairs.
Three girls, the oldest being no older than 11 at a stretch, lined themselves up in front of their mother. They each looked eerily similar to one another, except for the one at the end who was considerably plumper and more average looking than the other two. It was probably just baby fat though, she looked as though she were the youngest. Each girl shared the same blonde hair and blue eyes as their mother and were all dressed in brightly coloured sundresses.
"Girls, this is Santana, Mercedes and Minnie." She gestured to each of us and the smiles on each girls face grew wider, it was kinda creepy if I'm being truly honest. "You are to treat them with nothing but respect, you hear me? They are not here to tend to your every whim, understand?"
"Yes mama." They all said in unison.
Satisfied, Elizabeth nodded her head, "Now, go introduce yourselves."
The girl standing closest to her mother stepped forward first. She was only slightly smaller than me but her face looked much younger, I assumed she was simply tall for her age. She approached me with a wide, friendly grin that mirrored that of her mother.
"It's very nice to meet you Santana, I'm Joanne, but you can call me Jo." I smiled politely back at her and gave a small nod in acknowledgement. She proceeded down the line, shaking hands with both Mercedes and her mother in turn.
Next up was a shorter girl, but undeniably the prettiest of the three, her teeth were a little crooked, but other than that she appeared more or less flawless. "I'm Lucy."
I reached my hand to shake her already extended one before she moved on.
Last came the plump child, she was slower to approach and I felt slightly self conscious at the thought that perhaps she was uncomfortable in my presence. "Hi, I'm Megan." Her voice was quiet and I reasoned that she was probably more shy than uncomfortable.
When the introductions were out of the way, I watched curiously as Mrs Pierce whipped her head around as though searching for something.
"Where's your sister?" She asked the three girls, eventually.
They all shrugged in response.
The older woman turned to us with a look of apology. "I'm very sorry about this, my oldest daughter has a tendency to wander. Excuse me just a second." And with that, she exited the foyer.
Mercedes, Minnie and I stood awkwardly with Joanne, Lucy and Megan, none of us really knowing what to say. After an uncomfortable period of silence passed, Minnie finally spoke up.
"So, how old are y'all?"
The children looked relieved at the break in tension with Lucy piping up first. She definitely seemed to be the most confident of the sisters. "I'm 9 and a quatar." She announced proudly. It always amused me how every fraction of age was so important to kids. You'd never find a grown up saying, 'I'm 35 and a third.'
Joanne spoke up next, smiling pleasantly, "I'm 11."
Our attention then turned to Megan, who remained silent, keeping her eyes firmly glued to the ground and her hands interlocked.
"How bout you little one?" Mrs Jones asked gently as she cautiously approached the young girl.
Joanne nudged her, "Don't be rude Megan, answer Minnie."
Megan looked up at her sister apologetically before addressing Mrs Jones. "I'm 6."
I felt rather sorry for the kid. I couldn't relate since shy was never part of my persona but she looked so small and nervous I couldn't help but feel sympathy for her.
Mrs Jones gave her an understanding smile and backed away again.
Before we had a chance to fall back into the awkward silence, Elizabeth returned, followed closely by another girl, this one was much taller than the others, by quite a bit in fact. As she emerged from behind her mother I took in her appearance.
She was taller than any other girl I'd ever seen but it didn't look abnormal, her blue sundress was pretty but covered in dry mud, like she had been rolling around in the garden; while rolling around in the dirt for play was something I had often done myself, I knew it was frowned upon by circles like the ones she would mingle in. I felt heat rise at the back of my neck as I ran my eyes over her form, noting how well her dress clung to her curves, I'm not even sure why I noticed that at all. She lifted her head just as my eyes reached her face, her eyes glistened the brightest blue, set off more by the blue of her dress, she looked at me slightly quizzical, almost as if she were trying to read my mind or figure me out entirely with a simple look. I returned her stare with a challenging glint, silently daring her to say something. A wide grin spread across her features and a strand of hair fell from her already disheveled ponytail.
Before I had a chance to prepare myself, the intriguing girl had rushed forward and pulled me into a hug that could have rivaled her mother's.
"I'm Brittany, it's great to meet you, I just know we'll be friends." She decided, stepping back, her smile never faltering. I chanced a glance at Minnie, although this was my first experience as a maid, I was relatively certain that befriending the family you work for was uncustomary. Minnie caught my glance and her face remained pleasant but I saw the subtle shake of her head that let me know Brittany's statement was not an option. My heart sank a little, I hadn't realised when she initially said it but I had liked the thought of being her friend. She was nice and not at all reluctant to put herself out there.
I returned my attention to the girl in front of me still waiting for some kind of response. I smiled at her and tried to make it as genuine as possible but it still felt forced, maybe because I knew she was serious in her friendship statement and I knew that was not a possibility.
I nodded my head courteously, "Santana, Miss."
She paused on me for a few seconds further and I felt myself shift self consciously under her gaze.
She moved down the line introducing herself to Mercedes and Minnie but appeared to have calmed.
"Okay, now that we have that out of the way, allow me to show you the rest of the house." She began to lead us up the stairs, but stopped suddenly and turned to address us, "You'll start work every day at nine o clock and finish at six, Sundays off, of course. And one Saturday of every month, but we'll work out rotation for that. Santana and Mercedes, if you don't mind, I'd like Minnie to do all cooking, for now at least, but your chores will rotate in accordance with what needs to be done, if the girls should need a helping hand with anything such as homework or other endeavors, you may give them priority over household tasks."
We nodded in understanding and proceeded up the stairs. I glanced back before reaching the top and found Brittany staring up at me with that same curious look on her face. I threw her a shy smile and I could have sworn I saw a blush creep up on her cheeks before she took off back outside at a run.