Read Online The Sittin' Up by Shelia P. Moses - Free Book Online Page B

house.”
    That was my first visit to the river since death had come.
    The truck brakes made a loud noise when Papa stopped, but not loud enough to cover the sound of his crying. I had never wanted to scream so bad before in my life.
    â€œWhy did we come here?” I asked.
    â€œNeed to-to get his Mason pin. Mr. Bro. Wiley brought his clothes to our house, but he left his pin down here with all of the things he-he loved so much. I got to knock off work early tomorrow to take his stuff to Mr. Gordon.”
    I knew better than to ask Papa anything about the Mason organization that he and half the coloreds in town belonged to.
    When we got inside, Papa started searching the house. There really wasn’t a lot to see in the two rooms that smelled like mothballs. Just a kitchen and the bedroom where Mr. Bro. Wiley said he was born in.
    I sat on the wooden bed next to the milk crate where Mr. Bro. Wiley had placed a picture and a lantern. The house was not strange to Papa because the Masons had meetings there all the time.
    â€œThat-that is Mr. Bro. Wiley’s mama. He told me Mr. Thomas gave him that picture. He found it when he was packing up to leave the Low Meadows.”
    It was hard to believe that I was holding a picture of the woman that brought Mr. Bro. Wiley into the world. I touched her face. She was dark and pretty. Her head was wrapped in a rag and there was no smile on her face, just sadness. She just had to be good and kind to be Mr. Bro. Wiley’s mama. In my heart I knew he came from a good woman for sure. While I was looking at the picture, I noticed a piece of paper tucked in between the frame and the glass.
    â€œCan I open the back of the picture?”
    â€œGo-go ahead, Son. I don’t reckon Mr. Bro. Wiley would have minded at all.”
    As I opened the back of the picture, his Mason pin fell out.
    â€œThat’s what I-I need,” Papa said as he picked the pin up and placed it in his pocket.
    Behind the glass was a list of names with prices next to each one. I realized quicker than a rooster could crow what I had in my hands. My history teacher, Mr. Pellam, had shown us slave papers in books at school. The numbers were the cost of Mr. Bro. Wiley’s family. The price they were bought and sold for.
    My eyes scrolled down the list.
    There!
    â€œProperty of Thomas Wiley Sr. A baby boy named George Lewis Wiley, born July 5, 1840, $500.00,” I read as Papa looked over my shoulder. He could barely read but he understood what we were looking at.
    â€œBean, I want you to keep them papers. Mr. Bro. Wiley would surely want you to have them. Take-take care of them. Let them be a reminder to you of how blessed you are to be born free.”
    â€œThank you, Papa. I believe I will take the picture too. I don’t want to leave his ma down here since Mr. Bro. Wiley ain’t coming back to visit her.”
    Putting the picture under my arm, I folded the slave paper and put it carefully in my pocket.
    The gust of wind ran across my face again. Papa jumped.
    â€œYou felt it, didn’t you?” I asked.
    â€œI-I did! Mr. Bro. Wiley done come back to visit us before we put his body in the ground.”
    â€œSure have, Papa. Sure have.”

T EN
    W hen our rooster’s crow woke me Thursday morning, Ma was standing at my door. “Bean, you ain’t going to the ’bacco field today.”
    â€œWhy, Ma?”
    â€œMe and Lottie Pearl want you and Pole to stay home and pick flowers. Mr. Bro. Wiley’s casket need a spray. I want to fill the sittin’ up room with roses and daisies.”
    â€œI’ll be happy to do something special for Mr. Bro. Wiley.”
    I knew she would let me help sooner than later.
    â€œWe gonna take the flowers to town and give them to Ada Bea,” Ma added.
    She was Ma’s second cousin on her daddy’s side. Cousin Ada Bea made flowers in a little room behind Mr. Taylor’s grocery store. If she ain’t