Native

“Let me tell you a story boys.” the aged mother beckoned them. The three middle age men with Native American looks came over to her wooden rocker. Their wives were in the kitchen cooking for celebration that would be taking place. It was the men’s mother’s eighty-sixth birthday. She was wrinkled and didn’t move as fast as she used to but she still had that feisty spirit when someone said something she didn’t agree with. She always made her point clear and would not be bested.

“What is ma?” the youngest, Michael questioned. His thick black eyebrow rose.

Weak with old age but filled with determination inside, the mother lifted herself off her rocker. The son’s eyes were filled with panic as she did so. They had always helped her up.

“Ma! Be careful!” Tony yelled at her. He tried to touch her shoulder to help her balance.

“Oh get off.” she rolled her shoulder so Tony’s hand wouldn’t be on her anymore. “I might be old but I’m not helpless.” She then rolled her eyes.

She walked in short steps to the fireplace. On the mantle she spotted just what she needed; a brown leather book with old yellow pages crinkled inside. She walked back to her rocker and sat down.

“Now,” she dusted off the book and then sneezed.

A “Bless you.” came from all three boys.

“Thank you. Okay boys, today I’m going to tell you the story of your grandmother.”

“You’ve never really talked about her before Ma.” Leon interrupted. Leon being the oldest, always thought it was his place to ask the questions everyone had on their mind.

“Oh really?” she said sarcastically. “Now quit interrupting me boys. Your grandmother kept a diary of sorts. She wanted to remember certain things that happened. She also wanted her family to gain strength and wisdom from her recollections of events in things. Also, today you will find out more about your grandfather M and our Native American heritage. Are you ready?”

The men nodded in agreement.

“Alright, let’s begin.

August 24, 1934

            Well, I am at a loss for words for what has happened to me. Just a week ago I was encircled by electric lights and cars and now I have fire and horses. It is as if the world I used to know no longer exists. I’m scared but I have made some friends that have helped me through.

My name is Sarah Maryanne Taylor. I am only twenty years old. My father is the well-known  Joseph Taylor. My mother died at childbirth leaving my father with me. He owns the business that steals the land from Native Americans. But he doesn’t see it as stealing, rather taking what is rightfully the chosen ones by God. The white people.

Since he was always out for work, he left the maid in charge of me. Her name is Adeala. Adeala is a strong black woman with little education but wonderful wisdom. For years when I was younger she would tell me this every single day, “Miss Sarah, you are more pretty than you were ‘esterday.”One day while I was crying because my father hadn’t come home in months she told me, “Baby girl, you have strong when you get older. My mama was a slave; she taught me how to be strong. Now look at me, forty somethin’ year old and I’m as strong as anyone. I want the same for you suga. No matter how bad it is, how mean they are, or how weak you think you might be, you gotta be strong.”

 I needed those words when I found out who my father had given my hand to; Richard Clutz. Richard preferred to be called “Dick” which was a perfect name for him. He was a prick. Sure, he was handsome. He could get any girl he wanted with those green eyes and nice brown hair. His smile was what got most women, but not me. My father’s company was going to go to him when my father passed. So, he thought it was best if I married Dick. Dick was not my perfect match at all, but I was going to go through with it for my father.

It’s getting pretty late and the fire is dimming so I’ll stop for tonight, I will continue tomorrow.

Sarah Taylor

August 25, 1934

Okay, back to where we were. It had been several months that I had been engaged to Dick. I swear, if anything had a reflective service, he’d be right there checking himself out. It was ridiculous. He would come over to court me and discuss business with my father. I had to endure endless amount of hours of those two making business jokes and plans. It was a legal type of torcher. Anyways, on August 16^th was the night of our engagement party. It was immense party held at Haight mansion. It was a wonderful party to cover up a horrid marriage. Even the sky knew we were a bad match; it was a lightening show outside.

The dress I was forced to wear was white telling everyone I was the bride, was two sizes too small. Sure, it hugged me in all the right places and I looked amazing in it, but it was hard to breath. I felt like I was suffocating to death. Every single time I would try to eat something, a spot would appear on my dress. One of my father’s maids told me to stop eating all together or Id ruin the dress. I figured she was right, so I didn’t eat.

Halfway through the party, I began to feel uneasy. The combination of the dress being too tight and me not eating was getting to me. I decided it would be best if I lay down. I knew there were rooms upstairs where I could just find some peace and quiet.

I searched for Adeala. I found her in the kitchen cleaning up.

“I’m going to lay down upstairs if anyone needs me.”

“Oh no suga. I know this place like the back of my hand. My mama used to clean all around this house. The study is the best place for a quick nap.” She informed me.

I couldn’t help but notice the glimmer of mischief in her eyes. I’ve been wondering if she’s the reason I’m where I am now but anyways, she directed me towards the study.

“Now you can sleep here baby girl. If we need ya we’ll come get cha real quick. Okay suaga?”

I nodded and walked into the room. It was a massive room. Three of four walls where filled with books. They all had different shapes and sizes. Each different in their own way. Each telling a different story. I sat on the couch that was in the middle of the room and pondered what my story would say.

My thoughts were interrupted by the loud clash of thunder that consumed the whole room. On one of the walls was a large window. You could see how bad the weather had gotten. It looked like a hurricane. In a way, it soothed me. It let me know there were things larger than my own problems.

I lay down and closed my eyes. My thoughts were only on the rain hitting the window. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. is all I heard until I fell asleep. When I awoke silence is what I spoke.

I’m going to end this here. Tomorrow I will write more. My hand is cramping.

Sarah Taylor

August 27, 1934

         When I awoke, I was on sticks. I was tied down. I tried to struggle to get free but I couldn’t. I had no recollection of getting there or why I was even tied up. My skin was a blush pink from the sun. The sun’s rays felt horrible on my skin. I was parched and panicked. I stopped struggling because of my exhaustion.

        I decided to take notice of things around me. I was in a pasture. Green as far as the eye could see. I closed my eyes and attempted to sleep. Sleep got me here and possibly sleep could get me out.

      I then awoke to a two Native American men looking at me.

        “Help me! Help me!” I screamed.

      They both did their best to help untie from those horrible sticks. They spoke in a language I didn’t understand. One of them asked me a question which I didn’t understand. I just shook my head.

       “I speak English.” I told them.

        “English?” they both looked at each other and spoke again in their native tongue.

        They managed to untie me. They slowly set me down on the ground. I was too weak to stand on my own. The bigger one carried me while the other grabbed the two horses they came on. I closed my eyes once again and pass out.

        I woke up to an old lady offering me water out of a cup. I sat up from my pallet on the floor and said, “Thank you.” It even hurt to move.

       She smiled. I don’t think she actually understood me. She walked out if the tipi.

         I noticed I was no longer wearing my dress but another dress I didn't recognize. It was breathable so I was happy to have it on. There were burn marks on my wrist and ankles where the ropes had been. My skin that was exposed to the sunlight also was burned.

        I laid there and again looked at my surroundings. It was a tipi made out of some type of animal hide. I was the only person in the room. I drank all the water and laid back down.

        Within ten minutes a young man came in. I couldn't help but notice his looks. He had broad shoulders and was shirtless. His body was like one of the movie stars you see at the picture show. His face was had a hard and serious look to it. But his eyes revealed a playful boyish vibe. He was handsome.

“Hello. My name is Machijuio. You may call me M. I am the translator for my people. What is your name?” He sat right by me. He smelt like outside but in a good way.

“My name is Sarah Taylor.” And that’s where it all started.”

“Dinner’s ready!” Martha, Tony’s wife shouted from the kitchen.

“What happens next Ma?” the boys all said at once.

“Well boys, you’ll just have to find out next time won’t we?” the mother told them. She got off her rocker and placed the book back on the mantle.

She left the boys with questions unanswered but knew by keeping them in suspense, they would come back to visit her more often than they ever did before.