The Help

The thing is though, if I start praying for Miss Skeeter, I know that conversation gone continue the next time I see her. And the next and the next. Cause that’s the way prayer do. It’s like electricity, it keeps things going. And the bathroom situation, it just ain’t something I really want to discuss.

I scan down my prayer list. My Mae Mobley got the number one rung, then they’s Fa

And look a there who else I done put on this list. Bertrina Bessemer a all people! Everbody know Bertrina and me don’t take to each other ever since she call me a nigga fool for marrying Clyde umpteen years ago.

“Mi

We walking home from the one o’clock service. Mi

“Say what?”

“Eudora Green, when she broke her hip, went on your list, up walking in a week. Isaiah fell off the cotton truck, on your prayer list that night, back to work the next day.”

Hearing this made me think about how I didn’t even get the chance to pray for Treelore. Maybe that’s why God took him so fast. He didn’t want a have to argue with me.

“Snuff Washington,” Mi

“But that ain’t me,” I say. “That’s just prayer.”

“But Bertrina—” Mi

“Phhh. You know I never forget her.”

“Week after Clyde left you, I heard that Cocoa wake up to her cootchie spoilt like a rotten oyster. Didn’t get better for three months. Bertrina, she good friends with Cocoa. She know your prayer works.”

My mouth drop open. Why she never tell me this before? “You saying people think I got the black magic?”

“I knew it make you worry if I told you. They just think you got a better co

My teapot start fussing on the stove, bringing me back to real life. Law, I reckon I just go ahead and put Miss Skeeter on the list, but how come, I don’t know. Which reminds me a what I don’t want a think about, that Miss Leefolt’s building me a bathroom cause she think I’m diseased. And Miss Skeeter asking don’t I want to change things, like changing Jackson, Mississippi, gone be like changing a lightbulb.

I’m STRINGING BEANS in Miss Leefolt’s kitchen and the phone rings. I’m hoping it’s Mi

Even though Mi

“Leefolt residence.”

“Um, hi. This is . . .” The lady stop, clear her throat. “Hello. May I . . . may I please speak to Elizabeth Leer-folt?”

“Miss Leefolt ain’t home right now. May I take a message?”

“Oh,” she say, like she got all excited over nothing.

“May I ask who calling?”

“This is . . . Celia Foote. My husband gave me this number here and I don’t know Elizabeth, but . . . well, he said she knows all about the Children’s Benefit and the Ladies League.” I know this name, but I can’t quite place it. This woman talk like she from so deep in the country she got corn growing in her shoes. Her voice is sweet though, high-pitch. Still, she don’t sound like the ladies round here do.

“I give her your message,” I say. “What’s your number?”

“I’m kind of new here and, well, that’s not true, I’ve been here a pretty good stretch, gosh, over a year now. I just don’t really know anybody. I don’t . . . get out too much.”

She clear her throat again and I’m wondering why she telling me all this. I’m the maid, she ain’t gone win no friends talking to me.

“I was thinking maybe I could help out with the Children’s Benefit from home,” she say.

I remember then who she is. She the one Miss Hilly and Miss Leefolt always talking trash on cause she marry Miss Hilly’s old boyfriend.

“I give her the message. What you say your number is again?”

“Oh, but I’m fixing to scoot off to the grocery store. Oh, maybe I should sit and wait.”

“She don’t reach you, she leave a message with your help.”

“I don’t have any help. In fact, I was pla

“You looking for help?”

“I’m in a stitch trying to find somebody to come all the way out to Madison County.”

Well, what do you know. “I know somebody real good. She known for her cooking and she look after you kids too. She even got her own car to drive out to you house.”

“Oh, well . . . I’d still like to talk to Elizabeth about it. Did I already tell you my number?”

“No ma’am,” I sigh. “Go head.” Miss Leefolt never gone recommend Mi

She say, “It’s Missus Joh

Just in case I say, “And her name is Mi

Baby Girl tug on my dress, say, “Tum-my hurt,” and she rubbing her belly.

I get an idea. I say, “Hold on, what’s that Miss Leefolt? Uh-huh, I tell her.” I put the phone back to my mouth and say, “Miss Celia, Miss Leefolt just walk in and she say she ain’t feeling good but for you to go on and call Mi

“Oh! Tell her I said thank you. And I sure do hope she gets to feeling better. And to call me up anytime.”

“That’s Mi

I tell Miss Celia Foote, “She say don’t tell nobody bout her tip on Mi

“I won’t tell her secret if she won’t tell mine. I don’t want my husband to know I’m hiring a maid.”

Well, if that ain’t perfect then I don’t know what is.

Soon as we hang up, I dial Mi

This a real predicament, see. I gave this Miss Celia woman Mi

Miss Leefolt head back to her bedroom and, just like I figured, the first thing she do is tie up the phone. First she call Miss Hilly. Then she call the hairdresser. Then she call the store about a wedding present, talking, talking, talking. Soon as she hang up, she come out and ask what they having for supper this week. I pull out the notebook and go down the list. No, she don’t want pork chops. She trying to get her husband to reduce. She want skillet steak and green salad. And how many calories do I spec them meringue thingies have? And don’t give no more cookies to Mae Mobley cause she too fat and—and—and—