Spats thought they should get on outta Sneed’s. “My brother ain’t gonna stand for us fightin’ his woman.” Fiddle in arm, Indigo clammered thru the caverns, Spats & Crunch beside her. “We in for it now. Damn we might haveta hide out, when Pretty Man know what we done!” Crunch’s hearing wasn’t subtle enough to catch Mabel’s screams. Pretty Man having one of his tempers. Indigo slowed down. “We ain’t the ones haveta run nowhere.” Spats was impatient. “We got ta keep movin’.” Crunch was already gone. Spats tried pulling Indigo by her free arm. “Digo, c’mon. We cain’t let Pretty Man catch us. Let’s go.” Indigo shook her head. “No, I’ma go back & see to Mabel.” & Spats was gone.

Indigo felt The Caverns for the first time. The air was dark, heavy. The baking breads wafted thru her nostrils, leaden. Her fiddle, as she let it fall over her side, weighed down on her spirit. Shame crawled up her cheeks. She was going to see about Mabel. Mabel had gotten in trouble ’cause of Indigo’s fiddle, ’cause Indigo was a Geechee Capitan. Mabel was just some woman. One day Indigo would be a woman, too. The shame etched tears down her face, pushed her back toward the social room. Fear dashed her ’gainst the wall in the dark, when Pretty Man, as pretty as ever, briskly went up to the bakery. He was putting his shirt back in his pants as he walked, straightening himself up. Indigo wisht the switchblade handles on her violin case were knives. She’d have them all land in his back, but she didn’t want to hurt anybody else. The Colored had been hurt enough already.

The Caverns began to moan, not with sorrow but in recognition of Indigo’s revelation. The slaves who were ourselves had known terror intimately, confused sunrise with pain, & accepted indifference as kindness. Now they sang out from the walls, pulling Indigo toward them. Indigo ran her hands along the walls, to get the song, getta hold to the voices. Instead her fingers grazed cold, hard metal rings. Rust covered her palms & fingers. She kept following the rings. Chains. Leg irons. The Caverns revealed the plight of her people, but kept on singing. The tighter Indigo held the chains in her hands, the less shame was her familiar. Mabel’s tiny woeful voice hovered over the blood thick chorus of The Caverns. Indigo knew her calling. The Colored had hurt enough already.

EMERGENCY CARE OF OPEN WOUNDS / WHEN IT HURTS

by Indigo