By: Mirei Dominguez

Mayella Ewell, sitting on the porch looking out onto the street where Tom Robinson used to walk. She has a look of regret and concentration on her face as though she is contemplating an invisible object that can possibly harm her. The Ewell place is silent. No children anywhere, no drunken nor boisterous father that never would be again. She shifts a little in her seat as though uncomfortable with the silence, and then, she starts to talk to herself.

For as long as I can remember I’ve been lonely, which is rather difficult in a house of nine… well… I reckon eight now. I never even realized how lonely I was until the Tom Robinson trial. I always knew something was missing from my life. I only went to school for 2 or 3 years, I can read an’ write an’ everythin’ but I don’t really know anyone my age.   I never really had anyone to talk to or to help me. My mamma kicked the bucket a few years back and ever since then it’s been just me, my daddy, an’ the seven children. My daddy is downright tollable ‘cept when… ‘cept when he’s drinkin’. That was when I really got scared. Although the Ewell family is big in numbers I’ve always just felt isolated and alone. Until a young negro man named Tom Robinson tipped his hat at me when he walked by to go to work. It gave me butterflies. I felt a rush of affection, come over me. I felt myself smiling goofily. He’d walked that route ‘fore  but I guess I never minded him that much.

Ever’ morin’ an’ evenin’ he’d say “Hiya, Miss Mayella.” It was the best part of my day, until I asked him to come inside the fence and bust up a chiffarobe. He’d done it because like he said in the trial “ he felt sorry for me.” I didn’t want his pity but I sure did appreciate his company. I asked him if I should pay him, but he just said it was alright and that he didn’t want the money. After that day I frequently asked him to come inside the gate. Coming up with new little jobs for him to do. I liked watching him work, and I didn’t have to pay him a penny neither. Then, I realized that I wanted him, and not in the way a woman should want a negro. So I invited him inside,  I asked him if he could take a look at a door I told him was “broken.” I knew It really wasn’t but, I needed any excuse to get him in the house. He examined the door. He realized that it was fine and was about to head out. I had to come up with somethin’ for him to do quick! I couldnt give up on him, not then not ever. I asked him to get something from on top of the chiffarobe. He grabbed a chair to stand on, he reached with his right hand to the top of the chiffarobe–his shriveled up left arm rendered it useless– then, I seized my opportunity. A sort of… lust came over me. I grabbed his legs to get close to him. In surprise he kicked off the chair knocking it down. I held him and kissed him. I’d never kissed a grown man before, never mind a negro, and gosh did it feel good. I wouldn’t let him go but he kept asking for me to let him leave.  I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t be lonely again. I could tell he was afraid to hurt me, even with his crippled left arm he would have still been strong enough to throw me off him. Then, my worst nightmare came true. My father saw everything through the window. He was runnin’ to get inside the house. Tom took my brief distraction to run away leaving me alone with my drunk off his rocker father. He was so angry. He got me in a chokehold. He beat me about the face several times. I hollered in pain. I was sobbin’ uncontrollably.

“ You like that dirty N-word?! Huh?! Are you a dirty, stinkin’, N-word lover?!” He yelled. “ Is that how a raised my daughter?! Huh?!” I could feel his anger rising. He kept beaten me and chokin’ me and all I could say was no, no, no, no. After what felt like forever he let go of my neck only to grab my shoulders. He stared at me square in the eye.

“I’m going to run for the sheriff. When they ask. He raped you,” he shook me by the shoulders as though he were trying to force the lies into me and mix them around. “ That dirty N-word Tom Robinson raped you and took advantage of you! You hear me?!”

I nodded. It was the only sort of response I could muster. He ran out the door to look for the sheriff. I don’t like to think about it much. It doesn’t remind me of the part of my daddy I want to remember. I look at myself now and think… Look at me now, alone, again, with no daddy, seven children and a chiffarobe that needs bustin’ up.