Teen Corner

First I Spilled Water, Now I Spill Blood

By Olivia Dioguardi

“What is all this ruckus over Uncle Tom’s Cabin all about, huh?” My father was speaking to the slaves he had called in and lined up. Or at least that is what he would like to think. I knew he was talking to himself, but since he did not like to admit it, he had some slaves stand in a line to silently listen to him. “I mean, it’s not like we treat the slaves that poorly.” Oh dear, he was pacing back and forth now, waving his arms frantically in the air. Not a good sign. I decided my trip downstairs would have to wait because you do not, I repeat, do not want to interfere with one of my father’s “therapy sessions,” as I referred to them.

I headed back to my room and got out my smuggled-in copy of Uncle Tom’s Cabin and picked up where I had left off. If Father knew I had this book, well, I would rather not think about what might happen. I will admit my father had somewhat of a point, Stowe did exaggerate a tad bit, but my family was guilty of many of the sins mentioned and committed in this book.

I read, captivated, until I was called for dinner. Little did I know, however, that that simple meal was fated to change the course of my life forever.

The dinner that night was turkey, and the bird on the table looked delicious. As we began to eat, Solomon, one of the slaves, came around to give us water. While reading the book, I grew to hate how cruelly we treated the slaves, so as he came to me and filled my glass, I said, “Thank you.”

He flinched, as though my words had hurt him, and dropped the pitcher in the process. Luckily it did not break; otherwise he would have had to face the whip. In most cases he would anyways, but Father was a little nicer to his slaves than most plantation owners were to theirs.

I bent down as Solomon did to help with the pitcher, and our hands touched. Simultaneously, we looked into each others’ eyes. His were a very shocking green for a slave, and they were beautiful. I vaguely remember thinking, how could I not have noticed him before?

*                                  *                                  *

“Thank you.” The words were so sudden, so unusual, an’ spoken in such a sweet voice that it caused a physical reaction; I quickly drew back, an’ dropped the pitcher. Lucky for my back, the pitcher was still in one piece. I bent down to pick it up an’ mumbled a barely audible, “Sorry, Miss,” but was in for a surprise. My hand was not the only one on the pitcher. I looked up an’ immediately fell into Selene’s amazin’ blue eyes. They were the blue of the sky on a clear day, an’ lookin’, more like fallin’, into ‘em I felt like I was flyin’. You’re only a slave, a humble, good-for-nothin’ slave, I reminded myself, snap out of it. But I couldn’t. I kept fallin’ deeper an’ flyin’ higher. What could she possibly see in you? Ok, so your English is a little better than most slaves’, but you’re still worth nothin’ to her. Get over her. But I couldn’t.

“Selene,” her pa said in a very clipped tone, an’ our connection was broken, just like that.

“Yes, Father?” I could hear the reluctance in her voice, but lucky for both of us, he mistook it for shame.

“We have slaves for getting down on their knees and picking up what they drop. You are not a slave.” He stressed the last sentence.

“Yes, Father.” She got up off the floor an’ sat back down, an’ avoided my gaze. I took the pitcher back to the kitchen an’ got a rag to clean up the water with. As I was dryin’ the floor, I looked up to see Selene gazin’ at me with somethin’ in her eyes. Could it possibly be what I thought it was, longin’? But who am I kiddin’? She’s the master’s daughter, an’ I’m just his slave.

*                                  *                                  *

Oh, if only Father had not spoken. When I was looking into Solomon’s eyes, it was as though the planets had halted in their orbits, and time itself had stopped. What was only a second had seemed like an eternity, and I loved it. I could not hold this inside anymore, or I would burst. I went down the hall to my brother’s room, and knocked.

“Yes?” was the reply.

“Charlie, it’s me. Open up.” I heard springs groaning as he got off his bed and came to open the door. Charlie was my one and only brother, my only sibling for that matter, and we were twins. We were very close, and we told each other everything we did not or could not trust Mother or Father with. So I sat down and started talking. Once I had started, the words just came and came; an endless stream, a torrent of my thoughts and emotions rushing out of my mouth.

He waited patiently until I had finally finished, then said, “Well to me, it sounds like…”

*                                  *                                  *

“…You in love.” It was Miriam, my aunt, who’s been lookin’ after me since my ma died. I really don’t need it anymore now that I’m…well, I don’t really know. I think I’m sixteen or seventeen, but I don’t know my birth date so I can’t say for sure. In any case, I agreed with Miriam, but I doubt it if Selene could feel the same for me. Even if she did, it was unheard of. Yet there was always that slight possibility…

*                                  *                                  *

The next day I awoke early. I hoped and prayed as I eagerly hurried down the stairs that Solomon would be in the kitchen. My prayers were answered as I spotted a few slaves, including Solomon, preparing breakfast. My heard skipped a beat when I saw him, and it was as though we were frozen in a single moment. “Solomon?” I inquired.

“Yes, Miss?” he replied.

“Oh, please don’t call me Miss when my parents are not around. It’s so…not personal, and besides, I like Selene better.”

“Yes, Mi-Selene. Sorry. This might take some gettin’ used to.”

I felt brave, so I walked over to him…

*                                  *                                  *

An’ she hugged me. It was amazin’. Her, so beautiful, dressed so nice, then me. Me, in my dirty kitchen rags, but she didn’t care. That was possibly the best part. She just hugged me an’ didn’t let go, an’ after the shock had passed, I hugged her back. It felt like I had an angel in my arms. She took me to the corner of the room, an’ I threw an apologetic look at Miriam, who would now have to work harder without me helping her. I made a mental reminder to work extra-hard on lunch and supper.
When we were out of earshot, she said, “Ok, I want to get straight to this before I lose my nerve. Yesterday it was as though I was seeing you as a whole new person; and a person, not just a possession. I also realized something else, something shocking, shocking but true. I-I-I love you. Oh, and yesterday was…” she trailed off, smiling at the memory. Then she looked at me with an embarrassed look, an’ I could tell she was waitin’ for me to say somethin’.

“Amazin’,” I finished for her, “Yesterday was amazin’.” Then I stepped in closer, ran my hand through her beautiful, silky hair, an’ kissed her.

*                                  *                                  *

He kissed me! I never would have thought that would happen. In fact, just twenty-four hours ago I would have been absolutely horrified with the thought. However, a lot can change in twenty-four hours. Now I considered it a dream come true.
So as the kiss continued, I grew to know this man better and better. We became one being, melded together, as the lock on the door of his mind slowly turned, and the door opened a crack, then widely, inviting. I entered cautiously and everything flooded me. His loathing of my father and all of us white folk, how wrong he was about me, how beautiful he thought I was, how amazing that we were actually kissing, his desire to please the master so he would not have to face the whip, his thoughts about maybe being wrong about all white folk.

Then I caught the beginning of a thought that troubled me: It’ll come eventually, and when it does… We abruptly pulled apart at the sound of my father coming down the creaking stairs. I said, quite loudly, as if to be overheard, “So remember, I do not want my dress to get wet if that should happen again. You must be more careful.”
Catching on to my little plot, he said, “Yes, Miss,” in a voice louder than needed.
Then I whispered to him, “I am willing to risk anything for us, for our love.” Then I walked out of the kitchen and almost bumped into my father.

“Selene, what were you doing with the slaves?” he asked. Not even an apology for almost knocking me over.

“I was just scolding Solo-someone, you know, that slave that almost got me all wet yesterday.”

“Ah, yes, So-Sol-Solo-what ever his name is.” Solomon! I screamed with my mind. Solomon! “Solomon. That’s it. Yes, he does tend to be a little clumsy some times.”

“Yeah, that one” I nonchalantly replied.

*                                  *                                  *

Days turned into weeks, turned into months, and finally a year; time kept passing and the young lovers kept risking anything and everything they had for each other, for their love. As more and more time went by, they kept falling deeper and deeper into the swirling, never-ending vortex of their love. Finally, the day of April 12, 1861 arrived. The start of the American Civil War.

*                                  *                                  *

“You’re what?!” I exclaimed.

“I’m gonna run away an’ fight for the Union in the Civil War.” He repeated.

“But why?” I asked, “Why?”

“Because,” Solomon started, “Slavery is a horrible thing, an’ I don’t want any one else to have to go through it. I want to be bringin’ about its end.”

“Oh, but Solomon, you would be risking your life to do this.”

“Yes, I know. But I don’t want my children to have to put up with this, an’ besides, riskin’ my life is nothin’ new. If your pa knew I’d so much as laid a finger on you…”

“Point taken,” I argued, “But you said you did not want your children to have to go through this. If you die, we will nothave any children, period.”

Then Solomon was quiet for a little longer than was comfortable, and he was staring at his feet as though they were the most interesting things in the world. “I won’t, but you will,” he said in a soft voice. “You could always find yourself a nice white man who can give you what you deserve. I’m sure they’d be linin’ up to be your husband. I’m gonna fight, an’ that’s that.”

All of a sudden, it came back to me in a rush. I remembered our first kiss. It’ll come eventually, and when it does… he was referring to the war. I knew now that what he said was final and no matter what, I could not sway him.

So knowing that he wasn’t going to change his mind, I took a deep breath and…

*                                  *                                  *

“I am going with you.” She said it flat-out. Bluntly. “Do not even try to argue. If you are going, then I am going too.”

“But Selene, you’d be in so much danger an’-” I didn’t get to finish, for she silenced me with a kiss.

“Where you go I will follow,” she whispered. “You will always be my true love, and no white man, no matter how rich or fancy, will ever change that.”

“But-” I weakly protested, and once again she silenced me with her lips.

*                                  *                                  *

The lovers met in one of the slave quarters, and he cut off her long, beautiful hair, the color of melted milk chocolate. Now, with a little bit of dirt, she could pass as a man and join the army with her admirer.

And so the lovers stole off while the night was still young, traveling north through a shallow stream, so as to leave behind no scent. Not once did they hear the bark of a slave catcher’s dog.

*                                  *                                  *

Dear Mother, Father, and Charlie,
I take my time to write to you to let you know I am well and hope to find you the same. I have a confession to make to you, and I am sorry to have left you in the dark for so long; however, it was necessary for Solomon’s life. I know you are probably thinking, who is Solomon? Or, what is this leading up to? And, dear family, this is what it is leading up to: I am in love, and have been for at least a year. With whom? You are probably asking yourselves now. Solomon is my answer. Mother, Father, please understand. I could not help falling in love, or I would have. It just happened, and there I was, hopelessly slipping deeper each day. Father, remember the first time you laid your eyes on Mother? And, Mother, remember how you felt when Father first kissed you? Remember the joy, and try to sympathize with me. However, if you cannot, I will understand. When Solomon decided to run away to join the Union Army, I had to go with him. I could not stand to be away from him.

The war is horrible. Almost as many people are dying from chronic diarrhea as are from battle wounds and infections. It is a murderer. It is horrible to see so much pain, and the only way to accurately describe it is this way: it is worse than the Devil’s lair. I apologize, but there is no better way to word it.

Our food rations are very small, usually only crackers and if we are lucky a small piece of undercooked meat. I have spent my last pay, from two months ago, on some better food, but it has run out by now. They say we will get our next pay next month, but that is what they said last month too, so I am becoming doubtful.
I am withholding the name I registered under and address where you can find me, for I am fearful that you could get me into huge trouble even though your intentions would be pure.

At least I am with Solomon, which makes me happy. Also, please let Miriam and the other slaves know he is well. They would be thrilled to hear that. Please do not attempt to reach me.
With all my love,
Selene

*                                  *                                  *

“I am afraid, Solomon.” I said, and I meant it. “I have never been in an actual battle before.”

“Either have I, Sam, either have I.” Sam was the name we had registered me under. For obvious reasons, I could not use Selene. I longed for Solomon’s arm around me, but I knew that was not possible here.

“I have this really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach,” I commented, “As though something bad is going to happen.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Sel-Sam. If I could do anythin’ to help it I would. An’ to be honest, I’m dreadin’ tomorrow as well.”

*                                  *                                  *

The dreaded tomorrow eventually became today. Just as our spies had predicted, we saw the Confederate Army marchin’ toward us. By then, we were all standin’ with our guns ready.

 “Fire!” It was amazin’ how one simple word could cause so much chaos, so much confusion. Yet it did. All of a sudden more than a hundred guns started firin’ at once an’ it sounded like I had a huge thunderstorm ragin’ on in my head. I pulled my own trigger, aimin’ into the cloud of gray-coated men, and heard one scream, watched one fall. I decided war was terrible, but I kept at it. I kept pullin’ the trigger, pullin’ the trigger, pullin’ the trigger, with occasional pauses to reload. Selene was right beside me all along. We kept at it until it was almost dark. All around us, I watched the bodies fall an’ heard the God-awful shrieks of those layin’ there dyin’. All of a sudden, I heard a blood-curdlin’ scream that could only have come from a woman. Oh, Lord have mercy, I thought as I turned. My heart nearly exploded its way through my chest in that single instant during which I pivoted. My worst fears were confirmed as I saw Selene layin’ there on the ground.

I fell to my knees next to her, an’ pleaded, “Selene, please, don’t leave me here alone. Please, you have to pull through.”

“I…love…you.” Was all she could manage before her beautiful blue eyes went suddenly dull.

“Noooooo!” I screamed. I felt numb all over, an’ I dropped my gun. No, whoever did this was gonna get it, but with my fists. Guns were cowardly men’s weapons. I would fight like a man. I charged into the enemies’ line, but before I got two steps the world slowed. I saw the bullet comin’ at me in slow motion, but there was nothin’ I could do but watch as it came closer, closer…

All of a sudden the noise, sights, an’ smells of the battle came back to me in a rush as the tiny lead bullet slammed into my chest with an Earth-shatterin’ force. I felt it go right through me, an’ I grabbed my chest and willed the hole I knew was in my heart to close. I pulled my hands back, an’ they were stained with red. The corners of my vision went dark. Funny, I thought. First I spilled water, an’ that brought us together in life. Now I spill blood an’ it will unite us once again, but this time in death. That was the last I ever thought before the blackness engulfed me an’ I slipped into a blissful, eternal slumber.

*                                  *                                  *

And so, as the sun fell in the West with an amazing display of color, Solomon was shot through the heart. He clutched his chest in a vain attempt to live, but his fingers came back soaked with blood. He then died, and his body fell backwards and landed with a dull, echoing thud on that of his lover. So, as the moon took over the night, and the fire ceased, they lay there on the ground, motionless, lifeless; as their blood ran together and their souls danced up to the stars.