Кэтрин Стокетт - The Help / Прислуга. Книга для чтения на английском языке

Before she can say anything else, the door flies open down the hall. Mae Mobley runs out in her nightie and she stop in front a me. She hiccupping and crying and her little nose is red as a rose. Her mama must a told her I’m leaving.

God, I pray, tell me she didn’t repeat Miss Hilly’s lies.

Baby Girl grab the skirt a my uniform and don’t let go. I touch my hand to her forehead and she burning with fever.

“Baby, you need to get back in the bed.”

“Noooo,” she bawls. “Don’t gooo, Aibee.”

Miss Leefolt come out a the bedroom, frowning, holding Li’l Man.

“Aibee!” he call out, grinning.

“Hey… Li’l Man,” I whisper. I’m so glad he don’t understand what’s going on. “Miss Leefolt, lemme take her in the kitchen and give her some medicine. Her fever is real high.”

Miss Leefolt glance at Miss Hilly, but she just setting there with her arms crossed. “Alright, go on,” Miss Leefolt say.

I take Baby Girl’s hot little hand and lead her into the kitchen. She bark out that scary cough again and I get the baby aspirin and the cough syrup. Just being in here with me, she calmed down some, but tears is still running down her face.

I put her up on the counter and crush up a little pink pill, mix it with some applesauce and feed her the spoonful. She swallow it down and I know it hurts her. I smooth her hair back. That clump a bangs she cut off with her construction scissors is growing back sticking straight out. Miss Leefolt can’t hardly look at her lately.

“Please don’t leave, Aibee,” she say, starting to cry again.

“I got to, baby. I am so sorry.” And that’s when I start to cry. I don’t want to, it’s just gone make it worse for her, but I can’t stop.

“Why? Why don’t you want to see me anymore? Are you going to take care of another little girl?” Her forehead is all wrinkled up, just like when her mama fuss at her. Law, I feel like my heart’s gone bleed to death.

I take her face in my hands, feeling the scary heat coming off her cheeks. “No, baby, that’s not the reason. I don’t want a leave you, but…” How do I put this? [297] How do I put this? – ( разг. ) Как же мне объяснить ей? I can’t tell her I’m fired, I don’t want her to blame her mama and make it worse between em. “It’s time for me to retire. You my last little girl,” I say, because this is the truth, it just ain’t by my own choosing.

I let her cry a minute on my chest and then I take her face into my hands again. I take a deep breath and I tell her to do the same.

“Baby Girl,” I say. “I need you to remember everthing I told you. Do you remember what I told you?”

She still crying steady, but the hiccups is gone. “To wipe my bottom good when I’m done?”

“No, baby, the other. About what you are.”

I look deep into her rich brown eyes and she look into mine. Law, she got old-soul eyes, like she done lived a thousand years. And I swear I see, down inside, the woman she gone grow up to be. A flash from the future. She is tall and straight. She is proud. She got a better haircut. And she is remembering the words I put in her head. Remembering as a full-grown woman.

And then she say it, just like I need her to. “You is kind,” she say, “you is smart. You is important.”

“Oh Law. ” I hug her hot little body to me. I feel like she done just given me a gift. “Thank you, Baby Girl.”

“You’re welcome,” she say, like I taught her to. But then she lay her head on my shoulder and we cry like that awhile, until Miss Leefolt come into the kitchen.

“Aibileen,” Miss Leefolt say real quiet.

“Miss Leefolt, are you… sure this what you…” Miss Hilly walk in behind her and glare at me. Miss Leefolt nods, looking real guilty.

“I’m sorry, Aibileen. Hilly, if you want to… press charges, that’s up to you.”

Miss Hilly sniff at me and say, “It’s not worth my time. [298] It’s not worth my time. – ( разг. ) Жалко время тратить. ” Miss Leefolt sigh like she relieved. For a second, our eyes meet and I can see that Miss Hilly was right. Miss Leefolt ain’t got no idea Chapter Two is her. Even if she had a hint of it, she’d never admit to herself that was her.

I push back on Mae Mobley real gentle and she looks at me, then over at her mama through her sleepy, fever eyes. She look like she’s dreading the next fifteen years a her life, but she sighs, like she is just too tired to think about it. I put her down on her feet, give her a kiss on the forehead, but then she reaches out to me again. I have to back away.

I go in the laundry room, get my coat and my pocketbook.

I walk out the back door, to the terrible sound a Mae Mobley crying again. I start down the driveway, crying too, knowing how much I’m on miss Mae Mobley, praying her mama can show her more love. But at the same time feeling, in a way, that I’m free, like Minny. Freer than Miss Leefolt, who so locked up in her own head she don’t even recognize herself when she read it. And freer than Miss Hilly. That woman gone spend the rest a her life trying to convince people she didn’t eat that pie. I think about Yule May setting in jail. Cause Miss Hilly, she in her own jail, but with a lifelong term.

I head down the hot sidewalk at eight-thirty in the morning wondering what I’m on do with the rest a my day. The rest a my life. I am shaking and crying and a white lady walk by frowning at me. The paper gone pay me ten dollars a week, and there’s the book money plus a little more coming. Still, it ain’t enough for me to live the rest a my life on. I ain’t gone be able to get no other job as a maid, not with Miss Leefolt and Miss Hilly calling me a thief. Mae Mobley was my last white baby. And here I just bought this new uniform.

The sun is bright but my eyes is wide open. I stand at the bus stop like I been doing for forty-odd years [299] forty-odd years – ( разг. ) сорок с чем-то лет . In thirty minutes, my whole life’s… done. Maybe I ought to keep writing, not just for the paper, but something else, about all the people I know and the things I seen and done. Maybe I ain’t too old to start over, I think and I laugh and cry at the same time at this. Cause just last night I thought I was finished with everthing new.

Thank you to Amy Einhorn, my editor, without whom the sticky-note business would not be the success it is today. Amy, you are so wise. I am truly lucky to have worked with you.

Thank you to: my agent, Susan Ramer, for taking a chance and being so patient with me; Alexandra Shelley for her tenacious editing and diligent advice; The Jane Street Workshop for being such fine writers; Ruth Stockett, Tate Taylor, Brunson Green, Laura Foote, Octavia Spencer, Nicole Love, and Justine Story for reading and laughing, even at the parts that weren’t that funny. Thank you to Grandaddy, Sam, Barbara, and Robert Stockett for helping me remember the old Jackson days. And my deepest thanks to Keith Rogers and my dear Lila, for everything .

Thank you to everyone at Putnam for their enthusiasm and hard work. I took liberties with time, using the song “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” even though it was not released until 1964, and Shake ’n Bake, which did not hit the shelves until 1965. The Jim Crow laws that appear in the book were abbreviated and taken from actual legislation that existed, at various times, across the South. Many thanks to Dorian Hastings and Elizabeth Wagner, the incredibly detailed copy editors, for pointing out these, my stubborn discrepancies, and helping me repair many others.