Читать книгу Journey of a Cotton Blossom - Jennifer Crocker-Villegas - Страница 20

13

Into the Gray

A week had gone by since Joseph had arrived at Senator Westridge’s plantation, and a long week it had been. Joseph had been working in the fields every day, just as the senator had asked of him. Joseph’s patience was wearing thin, though, with this waiting-on-his-mother-to-return business. Every day while he worked, he secretly watched for a woman that might be his mother coming down the drive. His eyes would eagerly glance around every time he heard a noise in the road or the driveway. Still no sign of her. That strange pressure he’d felt on his chest since he arrived was still with him. He was convinced it was either nerves or excitement, but he was not going to allow it to ruin this good thing he had going on.

Day after day, though, the senator was able to build more trust and a deeper level of respect in Joseph. It was the little things that reeled Joseph in. The senator would smile at Joseph, treat him courteously, make eye contact, and say things as simple as “Thank you” or “You’re welcome.” It was unlike what Joseph had experienced. The Kingsleys never smiled at him, made eye contact, or told him thank you. Their actions toward him were always sharp and distant. Joseph’s thoughts about the senator were, Who would be that nice if they were someone that could not be trusted? Joseph always knew he could not trust the Kingsleys. There was no mystery there; it was black and white. With the good senator, Joseph was entering into the gray.

For the past week, the senator had greeted Joseph with the same smile and courteous behavior as the first day they had met. Joseph’s respect for Senator Westridge, with his polite and seemingly gentle demeanor, was blossoming. Before Joseph knew it, he was on a schedule with the rest of the workers. He was up before sunrise, out in the fields tilling the soil and planting the cotton seeds one strenuous row at a time. It was springtime in Doddsdale, but the temperatures were steadily rising. In the South, the temperatures get high and the humidity gets even higher. Being in the direct sun all day performing manual labor can take a toll on one’s body, even for a young boy.

By Friday afternoon, Joseph was exhausted. He had always had to work for the Kingsleys, but he was quickly learning now that he had had it easier than the other workers who worked those fields for the Kingsleys all day long every day. By comparison, this was brutal work, and Joseph was exhausted and hungry. The mixture of tiredness and hunger are never a good combination for one’s mood. Even the nicest of people can snap.

At one point, Joseph stopped working long enough to wipe the sweat off his brow. His eyes glared with frustration and defeat. He was ready to quit and leave this place, ignoring the reason he’d come there.

Just when Joseph’s spirit and patience had reached wit’s end, the senator stepped out onto the porch. “Joseph, why don’t you come on up here, boy!”

Joseph perked up a bit at hearing his name called from the very lips of the man he was coming to care about and respect. He couldn’t help feeling special with his name being called in front of everyone. It was his name and no one else’s. Too eagerly, he took his hoe and ran over to the large wooden barn behind the house. He placed the hoe against the side of the barn and then headed to the porch where the senator was standing. He quickly hopped up onto the porch, energized by his excitement.

The senator smiled and said, “Joseph, I just wanted to tell you I appreciate the good work you are doing here. I see you work hard. You’re doing a fine job, boy.”

Joseph’s spirits were immediately lifted.

“I wanted to let you know that I heard your mama is heading back this way. You should be able to meet her very soon.”

Hearing that perked up Joseph. Unfortunately, with the senator, there was always a “but.”

“But until then, would you please keep up your great work for me? It helps me out so much to see such a driven young man out there. I am sure you are an inspiration for the others as well.”

Joseph stopped and thought, Maybe I am an inspiration for the others.

“Now back to work, son. We don’t want to lose this sunlight, do we?”

Joseph hopped off the porch with a whole new pep in his step. His ego had been stroked, and his mama was on her way. Senator Westridge stood back and watched Joseph run out into that field, looking like he was heading to frolic on the beach. The senator walked over to the rocking chair on the porch; he sat down as he sipped on his perspiring glass of bourbon on the rocks. The grin of accomplishment on his face was a sign he knew he was on the right track with Joseph.

Anyone who has experienced the wrath of the deceptive knows the signs to watch out for. The more naïve they think you, the easier it is for them to capture and devour you. Until now, Joseph had experienced only the type of cruelty that was in his face—outright hate and evil. He had never experienced the variety masked with false care and phony kindness used to obtain a more obscure goal—one that could capture your soul. Joseph was naïve, and the senator was blindly leading him right where he wanted Joseph to be. Joseph would soon learn firsthand the wicked webs of deception that could be woven.

Webs are designed to trap prey in such a way that the prey can never break free. Sit and watch an unsuspecting insect fly right into a spider’s web. The insect never sees it coming, while the spider had this masterful plan all along. Upon the insect’s first impact with the web, it is clear it doesn’t know what’s hit it. Panic sets in, and the insect flails around, frantically trying to escape, until it exhausts itself. Its body and mind surrenders. It quits fighting.

The carefully planned attack has worked. The spider is the victor. Every once in a while, though, you will see one last glimmer of hope from the captive. It gives that one last push, that one final, desperate fight to save its own life. Something remarkable then happens. There is a pop of the web, and the captive wiggles loose. Sweet, sweet freedom is all the insect’s as it flies away as fast as possible. One can only have faith that Joseph would be able to break free from the web that he was now flying straight into.

As Joseph kept getting closer to the web the senator was wickedly weaving, he still did not see it coming. He did not notice anything at all. He felt like he was on top of the world. Each day that passed, the senator asked Joseph for his help with more and more duties. It had been close to four weeks since Joseph first arrived at the plantation, and he had now become like a manager of sorts for the other workers. He was the senator’s right-hand man and loving every minute of it. Anything the senator needed, he called on Joseph for, and Joseph was eager to oblige. The senator thrived on how young and impressionable Joseph was. He was the perfect medium to mold.

Joseph respected and cared about the senator, and no one in that position wants to find out that the person they respect is indeed wrong or deceptive. That is disheartening; it also makes one believe that they are weak and lacking judgment. Many times, people find it easier to just turn a blind eye. Joseph did not see any flaws in the senator; nor did he yearn to see any.

Joseph worked the fields less these days, and he was beyond pleased. No more manual labor for this fellow. The senator knew that to keep Joseph on track, he needed to change up his daily routine; otherwise, Joseph would get frustrated and choose to leave while there was still a chance. Joseph needed that extra stroke to the ole ego and the extra attention, and he functioned well with it. Joseph had always been an open book, so it was easy for the senator to read him. Now it seemed that the senator was starting to write the pages.

The senator saw that Joseph could readily become an enforcer rather than a mere worker, so Joseph’s new duty was to patrol everyone. He was to ensure they were doing their job properly according to the senator’s standards. He thought of his mother a little less each day. The thought of her returning drifted further and further from his mind. He now had an important job given to him to keep his mind occupied. When the senator asked Joseph to take on this job, Joseph felt beyond honored. The fact that the senator trusted him with something like this was a huge accomplishment for Joseph. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone important; he felt special. He was lost in this new feeling, and he soaked up every minute of it.

To accent Joseph’s new rise to power, the senator took Joseph aside and gave him a gift. One day, he called Joseph over to the old barn out back. Joseph was a little nervous, wondering if he had done something to upset the senator. The senator had become a father figure in Joseph’s eyes. Mr. Kingsley had treated Joseph as nothing more than a burden, so Joseph had never had a father figure. Now, in the senator, he did, and you always want to make your papa proud. Joseph walked out to the barn, and the senator called him inside. He was standing there with a long, thick leather whip. Joseph looked hesitant and nervous to enter.

“Come on in, boy. You ain’t in no trouble. I got a gift for you.”

A gift! How exciting! Joseph thought.

The Kingsleys never gave him gifts when he was growing up. His birthdays and Christmases were just more days on which he felt alone and alienated from love. Joseph smiled and hopped on into the barn. The senator looked at Joseph with a sense of importance lingering in his eyes.

“Now, this is a special gift, and it comes with a lot of responsibility. Can you handle the responsibility, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Joseph quickly answered as he pushed back his shoulders, straightened his posture, and snapped his feet together in the dirt so that they were now perfectly aligned with one another. He was now standing with a stance of pride.

“This here whip is to help you with your important job,” the senator told him sternly. “You got to keep all them in line. Sometimes them niggers can get jealous of such a fine young man in control. They might think that it is them that should be in your place. This is to show them you are in charge. You are who I have chosen, not them. Can you do that, boy?”

“Yes, sir!” Joseph spouted militantly.

He handed Joseph the whip. It was an odd and sinister ceremony of sorts. Joseph grasped the whip tightly with both hands; then he gave it a crack or two just to try it out, like a kid with a new toy.

“Attaboy,” grumbled the senator.

The senator gave Joseph a smile of pride. Joseph had made “Papa” proud.

“Now you get out there, boy, and keep them niggers in line.”

Joseph quickly ignored the hateful words the senator spouted, making himself believe that the senator meant nothing bad by them. Joseph smiled and ran back out the barn door to his post in the middle of the field. As he stood there with his long, thick leather whip, which he thought was very cool, he watched over everyone.

He felt powerful with the whip in hand. He thought it a cool accent piece to his title. He got so easily caught up in all that, losing sight of everything that once really mattered to him. The honorable, moral-bound little dreamer was fading far away.

The other “workers” were quickly learning to dislike Joseph. He had not made a single friend other than the senator he believed to be his friend. Joseph had always had a deep desire to be a social fellow, but throughout his life, he had found himself alone. Now he was one of the bad guys, and he hadn’t even seen it coming. He jumped to the conclusion that the others were jealous of his supervisory position. The senator had frequently warned him of this—the jealousy. The senator’s words echoed in his head: “They are just jealous, boy, because I chose you.” It was not even a distant thought in his mind that maybe, just maybe, he was disliked because he had become the oppressor, the problem, a thread in the web of wickedness. Besides the fact that Joseph had been blinded to the truth, the explanation that the problem was their jealousy was what made him feel better inside.

Joseph quickly went from being a sweet young boy to plantation enforcer. This was not what he’d risked it all for when escaping the Kingsleys. He was lost, and he did not even know the wrong turn he had taken. He had become everything he had always hated.

Joseph’s new role was introduced to him by the senator in such small increments, he did not even notice the transformation. It started out with Joseph simply watching over everyone on occasion. He did not want anyone to get into trouble, so he quietly observed. They all had a twinge of fear in their eye that kept them obedient to the senator’s callous rule. With little pep talks from the senator, Joseph was eventually running to tell him when someone was not acting or working “properly.” Day by day, Joseph was encouraged to take more authority. He had gone from not wanting anyone to be in trouble to correcting the workers himself when they were not behaving as he saw fit. “Get back to work,” he would demand with a snap of the whip.

Joseph found that he enjoyed having power instead of being the one controlled. Ironically, the senator’s control and manipulation was what led him to this disturbing place; the need for power had started to wrap its corrupt grip securely around him. It was addictive, and he loved the high. As with any addiction, it had tampered with his moral compass. The more the need for power grew, the weaker he became, a slave to its rule.