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Monday, April 30, 2012

Sneaky Peeky Sunday: The Help by Kathryn Stockett

Sorry sorry sorry...As always, I took my weekend in too much of a lazy spirit and completely ignored my dear darling laptop...Not to mention that I was still doing my reading...can't live without that!

So here I am, apologising once again on a Monday morning for Sunday's laziness and updating you about the page I am reading. Its from the book The Help by Kathryn Stockett. Enjoy!

 'Maybe you ought to go make some friends,' I say. 'Lot a ladies your age in town.'

 She frowns up at me. 'I've been trying. I can't tell you the umpteen times I've called those ladies to see if I can help with the Children's Benefit or do something from home. But they won't call me back. None of them.'

 I don't say anything to this because ain't that a surprise. With her bosoms hanging out and her hair colored Gold Nugget.

 'Go shopping then. Go get you some new clothes. Go do whatever white women do when the maid's home.'

 'No, I think I'll go rest awhile,' she says and two minutes later I hear her creeping around upstairs in the empty bedrooms.

 The mimosa branch knocks against the window and I jump, burn my thumb. I squeeze my eyes shut to slow my heart. Ninety-four more days of this mess and I don't know how I can take a minute more.

 'MAMA, fix me something to eat. I'm hungry.' That's what my youngest girl, Kindra, who's five, said to me last night. With a hand on her hip and her foot stuck out.

 I have five kids and I take pride that I taught them yes ma'am and please before they could even say cookie.

 All except one.

 'You ain't having nothing till supper,' I told her.

 'Why you so mean to me? I hate you,' she yelled and ran out the door.

I set my eyes on the ceiling because that's a shock I will never get used to, even with four before her. The day your child says she hates you, and every child will go through the phase, it kicks like a foot in the stomach.

 But Kindra, Lord. It's not just a phase I'm seeing. The girl is turning out just like me.

 I'm standing in Miss Celia's kitchen thinking about last night, what with Kindra and her mouth, Benny and his asthma, my husband Leroy coming home drunk two times last week. He knows that's the one thing I can't stand after nursing my drunk daddy for ten years, me and Mama working ourselves to death so he had a full bottle. I guess I ought to be more upset....'

 - Debolina Raja Gupta