A Simple Gift

I have been looking at this blank page for ages now but I am not sure I can translate into words what I feel. I lost the Mistress in a gaggle of horrid men, surely sent my Juba. They did not bother me, I kept quiet and away. My heart leapt into my throat though as someone grabbed me form behind, my hair was pulled back by the press of my back to his chest so I wouldn't look down. He covered my mouth, my tongue ran over metal on his hands. I should have known then but I didn't .. for I had never seem my drawn upon master move so fast. In my mind I have laid claim to him in the way slave girls do. But surely if you had seen the mystery of his gaze you would too.

He didn't take me to any dirty trash piles, for which I was pleased. He set me down nearby and smiled at me. I don't remember anything we talked about, only his voice and the way his fingers wrapped around the bars of a window.. why were their bars on that window anyway? He thinks I like Juba though.. my heart hurt! What if he was jealous? What if I hurt him? I could barely stand the thought of hurting him. But either way I didn't have long to think about it. We were interrupted by a dark haired slave.

I had lost my Mistress coin and her purse! Many things I have done to be beaten during my years with Eliza. But never have I lost coin before.. I was sure this would be the end, she shave me bald and make me a street whore, the ultimate shame. Tears had barely pricked my eyes when the Master did something almost as unspeakable was Jubas murderous act.

He gave me money.

Into my cupped palms he poured the contents of his pockets. 22 tarsk bits. A teeny time fortune to me. More then I needed. A few bits of string, a small black pebble. I was mortified.. a man giving slave coin like that! Its unheard of.. he should have beaten me right there and dragged me back to Eliza so she could beat me further. I do not like to be beaten, but I did deserve it. How could I have been so stupid?! He was angry with me for my reaction. I was not thankful, I still do not think I am grateful. I have a longing need to tell Eliza the truth. So many secrets I can keep but this one, about my own mistake, seems overwhelming.

I love him for his kindness.. but I despise him for it too. There is an invisible line drawn between a slave and man .. it is not drawn in the sand, easily washed away. It is not drawn on paper, easily burned.. it is set in stone, never to change, never to waver, never to blur. And he smashed the stone to bits. How should I have reacted to this? It frightened me in a way Eliza never has.

I sewed this small pebble into the hem of my tunic last night, a small bit of him I can keep with me. I wonder if I can find bits of them all to keep as my very own ...