She made the trip daily, though later she would not remember how far to tell the grandchildren- Better that way. She could keep those miles a secret, and her black face and black hands, and the pink bottoms of her black feet an minor inconvenience. She does remember the men she worked for, and that often she sat side by side with white women, all of them bent over, pushing into the hum of machines, their right calves tensed against the pedals. Her lips tighten speaking of quitting time when the colored women filed out slowly to have their purses checked, the insides laid open and exposed by the boss's hand. But then she laughs when she recalls the soiled Kotex she saved, stuffed into a bag in her purse, and Adam's look on one white man's face, his hand deep in knowledge. |