Olivia, Mourning by Yael Politis Page B

he was just as scared as she was.
    “Someone bringin’ ’em real soon.” He looked behind him just as a wagon driven by a young black man turned the corner. “See, right there.”
    They waited for the driver to pull up beside them and Olivia saw that her wicker baskets and Mourning’s toolbox, leather case, and carpetbag were safe in the bed of the wagon. She asked the driver if he could wait for them to get tickets and then take them down to the port. He nodded agreeably and put his feet up.
    “There’s a boat leaving in about two hours,” she told Mourning. “I’d better go pay our way.”
    Mourning followed her inside and they studied the sign over the ticket window that listed prices. First class to Detroit was $18. Steerage was $7.
    “What should we get? What do you think steerage is?” she asked in a whisper.
    “Don’t know.” Mourning shrugged, giving her an “I thought you so smart and know all them things” look. “I forgot to aks, last time I took a boat to Detroit,” he said.
    “Steerage is deck passage,” a white man standing behind them said to Olivia. “It means you spend the entire trip on the deck. Will you and your boy be traveling on the Windsong ?”
    “Yes, I guess so,” she said.
    “That’s her, down there by the pier.” He nodded out the window.
    The boat looked enormous, with three towering black chimneys and a forest of wooden masts. It had an upstairs and a downstairs and she could see people standing on both levels. The paddle wheels looked taller than any building she’d ever seen. Stevedores were busy loading luggage, crates, and even animals onto it. A large black stallion shook its head and refused to walk the plank down into the hold until a dockworker drew a big red bandanna out of his pocket and tied it over the horse’s eyes. Olivia gazed at the scene, wondering how she had managed not to notice any of it before, while she was waiting for Mourning.
    I have to pay better attention , she thought. This is the beginning of my new life. My real life. I have to stop worrying about nonsense and remember everything .
    “She’s a good vessel. A lake boat.” The man showed off his knowledge. “Can’t go through the locks of the Canal with that paddle, so she runs from Buffalo to Detroit. You get yourself a cabin, but your boy will be fine on the deck. This time of year it’s not so cold.”
    “How long does it take to get to Detroit?” she asked, though she thought she knew the answer.
    “Good two, two and a half days. Longer if they have to repair machinery or stop more than once to take on coal. They usually let you off in Cleveland for a few hours. You’ll take your meals in the dining room, of course, but you best buy your boy some sandwiches before you go aboard. There’s always someone selling sandwiches and coffee to the deck passengers, but they charge more than you’ll pay here and the coffee’s more peas than beans.”
    “Thank you.” Olivia tried to turn away, but the man was determined to be friendly and held out a hand as he said his name.
    “Mabel Mears,” she responded and offered a weak handshake. “Nice making your acquaintance.” She nodded to the stranger before turning to her “boy.”
    “Come outside,” she said, in what even she could hear was a bossy, annoying tone of voice.
    “Yes, Miz Mabel, right away.” Mourning gave her a look that could wither weeds and shuffled out to the sidewalk.
    “So should I get cabins for both of us?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.
    Part of the business agreement they had reached was that he would eventually repay her for his passage, so that decision was up to him.
    “They ’llow coloreds to stay in cabins?” he asked uncertainly, no longer sullen.
    “I don’t know. I can ask. All they can do is say no. If they do allow it, do you want to spend the money?”
    “I don’t see you in no hurry to be freezin’ your backside on the deck of that boat,” he said. “It gotta be