Thrown-away Child

floor was unmistakable, as was the prim shuffle of Miz LaRue.
    To Violet’s mind, nobody’s kitchen needed three Women. Furthermore, this was her kitchen—at least when she was working it. Therefore, it was off-limits to these two. There was no real way she could speak her mind on the subject, though. And what good Would that do? Ophelia would only give her the evil eye. And the whole house belonged to Miz LaRue, after all.
    “Violet, dear? Violet.. ?” Miz LaRue was smoking one of those oval-shaped cigarettes she bought from a shop on Royal Street that sold French smokes for too much money. The cigarette paper was pale red instead of pure white like a regular American brand Miz LaRue had her red cigarette wedged into a long black holder made out of tortoiseshell. “Violet—Violet, would you kindly stop?”
    “What, Miz LaRue?” Violet turned from the sink, not bothering to cut off the strong rush of water.
    “Stop the water, Violet. Why, it sounds like the falls of Iguaçù in here. That’s a waterfall in Brazil, dear. Mr. Giradoux and I honeymooned there.”
    “Yeah, I know they got coffee in Brazil. But how— I always did wonder—-do they get waterfalls, too? Now I know.” Violet left the water running.
    Ophelia waddled across the kitchen floor and turned off the tap. Violet cut her a proprietary glare. Ophelia gave the same to Violet, at twice the incandescence— which was close to an evil eye. This made Violet nervous. She put a hand to her throat and pretended Ophelia was someplace else, waxing the parlor furniture or something. Ava LaRue was oblivious to what had passed between her two colored women.
    “I’d like you to run a little errand today, Violet.” Ava LaRue smiled, as if she were about to present Violet with a great gift. “Out into the countryside.“
    “Miz LaRue, you sure I’m the one for the job?” Violet did not look over to Ophelia Dabon, though she felt the wattage of her face. “I got all this work piled up on me. I got to prepare for the dinner. There’s baking and shopping to do. I got to polish the silvers. Plus I got me a week’s worth of your husband laundry. How’m I going to run off to the country and do all that beside?”
    “I believe the laundry can wait, dear. And I wouldn’t send you terribly far. Just out Metarie way.”
    “Well, how’m I supposed to get out Metarie way?
    “Matthew is bringing the car around.”
    “What you need me for in that car? Matthew, he already in it, driving. Can’t he do the fetching, too?“
    “You see, Violet... Well, Ophelia tells me it’s a woman’s place.”
    Violet had to look at Ophelia this time. She saw a rare smirk on the big woman’s lips.
    “Woman’s place to what?”
    Ava LaRue reached into a side pocket of her tiger stripe jumpsuit. She pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and held it out to Violet.
    “What’s this?” Violet just looked at the paper suspended in the air between Miz LaRue and herself.
    “The address of an egg farm. Have Matthew take you there. You ask for a Mr. Fyfe, that’s the farmer.” Miss LaRue wiggled the slip impatiently. Violet had no choice but to take it. “Here now, I’ve written it all out. Anything you don’t understand, just ask.”
    “I learnt to read some time ago, Miz LaRue.”
    “I don’t mean—”
    “What I’m supposed to fetch by this farmer Fyfe place?”
    “A fresh egg, from a black hen.”
    “Ophelia dream up some new hex for you?“
    “Never you mind, dear.”
    Embarrassed, Ava LaRue puffed strenuously on her red cigarette. Then she turned and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving her colored women to themselves.
    “All right,” Violet said to Ophelia, “what’s going on here?”
    “Step one.”
    “Of what?”
    “Mind what you told. Which is never mind.”
    “You tell me what you going to do with a black hen egg, gal.”
    “Once you bring back the egg, I going to write down Miz El name on it, only backward. Then you got another little duty to do.”
    “That’d be what?”
    “You got to throw that egg up onto the roof of this house.”
    “How come me?”
    “You the strongest one of us, Vi. Miz El, she can’t hardly toss nothing high up with them bird arms of hers. And you know I got my bursitis.”
    “First time I hear about you and bursitis.“
    “Matthew’s waiting. I think he carrying the torch for you, Vi.”
    “Shoo, you just saying that. Matthew—he say anything?”
    “Maybe he say, maybe he need some coaxing to say.