tethered to my new life’s happiness.
I sat down and smiled, choosing the path more traveled.
“It’s amazing what you hear while washing others’ clothes.”
Eliza looked shocked, grabbing her ample bosom and gasping. “You worked? What kind of father makes his daughter work at such laborious endeavors?”
“Mine. And yes, I washed clothes for three households.”
June sighed as she placed the last platter of shrimp and grits out on the table. “The only gossip we get around here is secondhand from Porter. And it’s from the outside, so we don’t understand half of the things he speaks of. He always returns with a smile on his face though, and that’s worth the time away.”
If the outside was such a dastardly place, then what about it made Porter happy?
“I would love to hear some stories,” I spoke up. “They’re all new to me. I know nothing about the outside.”
Before I could serve myself, a massive dollop of the savory shrimp was piled on my plate along with grits, eggs, and a stone of a biscuit. This was the first of many choices that were taken from me that morning. Eventually, I simply sat back and allowed Eliza to dress up the already elaborate choices on my plate with butter, jellies, and salt.
I had more condiments on my plate than I usually had actual food.
For the rest of the meal, I listened to the now third-hand stories of Porter and the world that I’d never known. June and Eliza told them with such gusto that a stranger would’ve thought they were speaking of a conquistador and his conquests.
I skirted my food around the plate for the most part, using the empty spaces as proof that I’d at least attempted to eat my fill. My stomach became jittery at my second cup of coffee and added to my nervousness which never seemed to vanish.
This morning I was allowed to help with the dishes and the cleaning. Without Porter around, the chores seemed more communal and less like the owner and the help. Everyone was freer in spirit in his absence.
Except me—there was no denying my longing for his presence.
I felt exposed without Porter’s shadow.
“What do we do the rest of the day?” I posed the question to both of the women in the kitchen who, to me, were on equal footing.
“Well, I need to go to town to visit the butcher. We need more ham and then something for supper.” June’s answer was swift.
“And I—what do I do, June?” Eliza turned to June who was already set on completing her task, grabbing a coat and tying a well-made bonnet on her head.
“Today, you’re embroidering my new handkerchiefs and you eat a lot.”
My eyes bugged out while both of the women chuckled at the dig—an open joke to them.
“Oh, Delilah, I’m not offended. I’m quite proud of my robust appetite.”
“Robust—there’s a fitting word.”
This time, I joined in the fun. Until a low-drummed clearing of the throat interrupted our fun. Everything in my from the heat in my belly to the tingling in my chest knew it was him. The atmosphere in the room hummed with a looming seriousness—even the ceiling moaned at the swift metamorphosis.
I turned around to face my new husband and expected the happiness that visiting the outside was told to have brought him. He was breathtaking. He wore a suit, but the fashion was nothing that I’d ever seen in The Rogue. The seams were crisp, the lines were precise and well-tailored—nothing compared to his rattily stitched pants of the day before.
Everything about him was so exact, it was as though he was crafted by a machine.
But there was no smile or even a sliver of happiness to go with all of the well put together man in front of me. My heart shriveled at the knowing. Of course he wasn’t happy anymore—I was what he had to come home to now.
He would probably never return home happy ever again.
Those women—the women who relied on that happiness should’ve been warned. Beware ladies, this is the last time I will be happy—enjoy it.
“Not
I sat down and smiled, choosing the path more traveled.
“It’s amazing what you hear while washing others’ clothes.”
Eliza looked shocked, grabbing her ample bosom and gasping. “You worked? What kind of father makes his daughter work at such laborious endeavors?”
“Mine. And yes, I washed clothes for three households.”
June sighed as she placed the last platter of shrimp and grits out on the table. “The only gossip we get around here is secondhand from Porter. And it’s from the outside, so we don’t understand half of the things he speaks of. He always returns with a smile on his face though, and that’s worth the time away.”
If the outside was such a dastardly place, then what about it made Porter happy?
“I would love to hear some stories,” I spoke up. “They’re all new to me. I know nothing about the outside.”
Before I could serve myself, a massive dollop of the savory shrimp was piled on my plate along with grits, eggs, and a stone of a biscuit. This was the first of many choices that were taken from me that morning. Eventually, I simply sat back and allowed Eliza to dress up the already elaborate choices on my plate with butter, jellies, and salt.
I had more condiments on my plate than I usually had actual food.
For the rest of the meal, I listened to the now third-hand stories of Porter and the world that I’d never known. June and Eliza told them with such gusto that a stranger would’ve thought they were speaking of a conquistador and his conquests.
I skirted my food around the plate for the most part, using the empty spaces as proof that I’d at least attempted to eat my fill. My stomach became jittery at my second cup of coffee and added to my nervousness which never seemed to vanish.
This morning I was allowed to help with the dishes and the cleaning. Without Porter around, the chores seemed more communal and less like the owner and the help. Everyone was freer in spirit in his absence.
Except me—there was no denying my longing for his presence.
I felt exposed without Porter’s shadow.
“What do we do the rest of the day?” I posed the question to both of the women in the kitchen who, to me, were on equal footing.
“Well, I need to go to town to visit the butcher. We need more ham and then something for supper.” June’s answer was swift.
“And I—what do I do, June?” Eliza turned to June who was already set on completing her task, grabbing a coat and tying a well-made bonnet on her head.
“Today, you’re embroidering my new handkerchiefs and you eat a lot.”
My eyes bugged out while both of the women chuckled at the dig—an open joke to them.
“Oh, Delilah, I’m not offended. I’m quite proud of my robust appetite.”
“Robust—there’s a fitting word.”
This time, I joined in the fun. Until a low-drummed clearing of the throat interrupted our fun. Everything in my from the heat in my belly to the tingling in my chest knew it was him. The atmosphere in the room hummed with a looming seriousness—even the ceiling moaned at the swift metamorphosis.
I turned around to face my new husband and expected the happiness that visiting the outside was told to have brought him. He was breathtaking. He wore a suit, but the fashion was nothing that I’d ever seen in The Rogue. The seams were crisp, the lines were precise and well-tailored—nothing compared to his rattily stitched pants of the day before.
Everything about him was so exact, it was as though he was crafted by a machine.
But there was no smile or even a sliver of happiness to go with all of the well put together man in front of me. My heart shriveled at the knowing. Of course he wasn’t happy anymore—I was what he had to come home to now.
He would probably never return home happy ever again.
Those women—the women who relied on that happiness should’ve been warned. Beware ladies, this is the last time I will be happy—enjoy it.
“Not
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