“It’s a hard life,” he says. “Hard, hard. One day, Sonny—you too young right now—but one day you’ll know what I mean.”
“Can I get up, Daddy?”
“Better ask your mama,” Daddy says.
“Can I get up, Mama?” I call.
Mama don’t answer me.
“Mama?” I call.
“Your pa standing in there,” Mama says. “He the one woke you up.”
“Can I get up, Daddy?”
“Sonny, I got enough troubles right now,” Daddy say.
“I want get up and wee-wee,” I say.
“Get up,” Mama says. “You go’n worry me till I let you get up anyhow.”
I crawl from under the cover and look at my feet. I got just one sock on and I look for the other one under the cover. I find it and slip it on and then I get on the floor. But that floor is still cold. I hurry up and put on my clothes, and I get my shoes and go and sit on the bed to put them on.
Daddy waits till I finish tying up my shoes, and me and him go back in the kitchen. I get in the corner ’side the stove, and Daddy comes over and stands ’side me. The fire is warm and it feels good.
Mama is frying salt meat in the skillet. The skillet’s over one hole and the tea kettle’s over the other one. The water’s boiling, and the tea kettle is whistling. I look at the steam shooting up to the loft.
Mama goes outside and gets my pot. She holds my pot for me and I wee-wee in it. She dumps the wee-wee out the back door and takes my pot to the front.
Daddy pours some water in the wash basin and washes his face, then he washes my face. I shut my eyes tight. I feel Daddy rubbing at my eyes to get them clean. I keep my eyes shut tight so no soap can get in. Daddy opens the back door and pitches the water out on the ground. We go to the table and sit down, and Mama brings the food. She stands there till I get through saying my blessing, then she goes back to stove and warm. Me and Daddy eat.
“You love your daddy?” he says.
“Uh-huh,” I say.
“That’s a good boy,” he says. “Always love your daddy.”
“I love Mama, too. I love her more than I love you.”
“You got a good mama,” Daddy says. “I love her, too. She the only thing keep me going—’cluding you, too.”
I look at Mama standing ’side the stove, warming.
“Why don’t you come to the table and eat with us?” Daddy says.
“I’m not hungry,” Mama says.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Daddy says. “I mean it.”
Mama just looks down at the stove and don’t answer Daddy.
“You got a right to be mad,” Daddy says. “I ain’t nothing but a’ old rotten dog.”
Daddy eats his food and looks at me across the table. I pick up a piece of meat and chew on it. I like the skin because the skin is hard. I keep the skin a long time.
“Well, I better get going,” Daddy says. “Maybe if I work hard, I’ll get me a couple tons.”
Daddy gets up from the table and goes in the front room. He comes back with his jumper and his hat on. Daddy’s hat is gray and it got a hole on the side.
“I’m leaving, honey,” he tells Mama.
Mama don’t answer Daddy.
“Honey, tell me ‘ ’Bye, old dog,’ or something,” Daddy says. “Just don’t stand there.”
Mama still don’t answer him, and Daddy jerks his cane knife out the wall and goes on out. I chew on my meat skin. I like it because it’s hard.
“Hurry up, honey,” Mama says. “We going to Gran’mon.”
Mama goes in the front room and I stay at the table and eat. I finish eating and I go in the front room where Mama is. Mama’s pulling a big bundle of clothes from under the bed.
“What’s that, Mama?” I ask.
“Us clothes,” she says.
“We go’n take us clothes down to Gran’mon?”
“I’m go’n try,” Mama says. “Find your cap and put it on.”
I see my cap hanging on the chair and I put it on and fasten the strap under my chin. Mama fixes my shirt in my pants, and then she goes and puts on her overcoat. Her overcoat is black and her hat is black. She puts on her hat and looks in the looking glass. I can see her face in the glass. Look like she want to cry. She comes from the dresser and looks at the big bundle of clothes on the floor.
“Find your pot,” she says.
I get my pot from under the bed.
“Come on,” Mama says.
She drags the big bundle of clothes out on the gallery and I shut the door. Mama squats down and puts the bundle on her head, and then she stands up and me and her go down the steps. Soon’s I get out in the road I can feel the wind. It’s strong and it’s blowing in my face. My face is cold and one of my hands is cold.
It’s red over there back of the trees. Mr. Guerin’s house is over there. I see Mr. Guerin’s big old dog. He must be don’t see me and Mama because he ain’t barking at us.
“Don’t linger back too far,” Mama says.
I run and catch up with Mama. Me and Mama’s the only two people walking in the road now.
I look up and I see the tree in Gran’mon’s yard. We go little farther and I see the house. I run up ahead of Mama and hold the gate open for her. After she goes in, I let the gate slam.
Spot starts barking soon’s he sees me. He runs down the steps at me and I let him smell my pot. Spot follows me and Mama back to the house.
“Gran’mon?” I call.
“Who that out there?” Gran’mon asks.
“Me,” I say.
“What you doing out there in all that cold for, boy?” Gran’mon says. I hear Gran’mon coming to the door fussing. She opens the door and looks at me and Mama.
“What you doing here with all that?” she asks.
“I’m leaving him, Mama,” Mama says.
“Eddie?” Gran’mon says. “What he done you now?”
“I’m just tired of it,” Mama says.
“Come in here out that cold,” Gran’mon says. “Walking out there in all that weather . . .”
We go inside and Mama drops the big bundle of clothes on the floor. I go to the fire and warm my hands. Mama and Gran’mon come to the fire and Mama stands at the other end of the fireplace and warms her hands.
“Now what that no good nigger done done?” Gran’mon asks.
“Mama, I’m just tired of Eddie running up and down the road in that car,” Mama says.
“He beat you?” Gran’mon asks.
“No, he didn’t beat me,” Mama says. “Mama, Eddie didn’t get home till after two this morning. Messing around with that old car somewhere out on the road all night.”
“I told you,” Gran’mon says. “I told you when that nigger got that car that was go’n happen. I told you. No—you wouldn’t listen. I told you. Put a fool in a car and he becomes a bigger fool. Where that yellow thing at now?”
“God telling,” Mama says. “He left with his cane knife.”
“I warned you ’bout that nigger,” Gran’mon says. “Even’fore you married him. I sung at you and sung at you. I said, ‘Amy, that nigger ain’t no good. A yellow nigger with a gap like that’tween his front teeth ain’t no good.’ But you wouldn’t listen.”
“Can me and Sonny stay here?” Mama asks.
“Where else can y’all go?” Gran’mon says. “I’m your mon, ain’t I? You think I can put you out in the cold like he did?”
“He didn’t put me out, Mama, I left,” Mama says.
“You finally getting some sense in your head,” Gran’mon says. “You ought to been left that nigger years ago.”
Uncle Al comes in the front room and looks at the bundle of clothes on the floor. Uncle Al’s got on his overalls and got just one strap hooked. The other strap’s hanging down his back.
“Fix that thing on you,” Gran’mon says. “You not in a stable.”
Uncle Al fixes his clothes and looks at me and Mama at the fire.
“Y’all had a
round?” he asks Mama.
“Eddie and that car again,” Mama says.
“That’s all they want these days,” Gran’mon says. “Cars. Why don’t they marry them cars? No. When they got their troubles, they come running to the womenfolks. When they ain’t got no troubles and when their pockets full of money, they run jump in the car. I told you that when you was working to help him get that car.”
Uncle Al stands ’side me at the fireplace, and I lean against him and look at the steam coming out a piece of wood. Lord knows I get tired of Gran’mon fussing all the time.
“Y’all moving in with us?” Uncle Al asks.
“For a few days,” Mama says. “Then I’ll try to find another place somewhere in the quarter.”
“We got plenty room here,” Uncle Al says. “This old man here can sleep with me.”
Uncle Al gets a little stick out of the corner and hands it to me so I can light it for him. I hold it to the fire till it’s lit, and I hand it back to Uncle Al. Uncle Al turns the pipe upside down in his mouth and holds the fire to it. When the pipe’s good and lit, Uncle Al gives me the little stick and I throw it back in the fire.
“Y’all ate anything?” Gran’mon asks.
“Sonny ate,” Mama says. “I’m not hungry.”
“I reckon you go’n start looking for work now?” Gran’mon says.
“There’s plenty cane to cut,” Mama says. “I’ll get me a cane knife and go out tomorrow morning.”
“Out in all that cold?” Gran’mon says.
“They got plenty women cutting cane,” Mama says. “I don’t mind. I done it before.”
“You used to be such a pretty little thing, Amy,” Gran’mon says. “Long silky curls. Prettiest little face on this whole plantation. You could’ve married somebody worth something. But, no, you had to go throw yourself away to that yellow nigger who don’t care for nobody, ’cluding himself.”
“I loved Eddie,” Mama says.
“Poot,” Gran’mon says.
“He wasn’t like this when we married,” Mama says.
“Every nigger from Bayonne like this now, then, and forever,” Gran’mon says.
“Not then,” Mama says. “He was the sweetest person—”
“And you fell for him?” Gran’mon says.
“He changed after he got that car,” Mama says. “He changed overnight.”
“Well, you learned your lesson,” Gran’mon says. “We all get teached something no matter how old we get. ‘Live and learn,’what they say.”
“Eddie’s all right,” Uncle Al says. “He—”
“You keep out of this, Albert,” Gran’mon says. “It don’t concern you.”
Uncle Al don’t say no more, and I can feel his hand on my shoulder. I like Uncle Al because he’s good, and he never talk bad about Daddy. But Gran’mon’s always talking bad about Daddy.
“Freddie’s still there,” Gran’mon says.
“Mama, please,” Mama says.
“Why not?” Gran’mon says. “He always loved you.”
“Not in front of him,” Mama says.
Mama leaves the fireplace and goes to the bundle of clothes. I can hear her untying the bundle.
“Ain’t it ’bout time you was leaving for school?” Uncle Al asks.
“I don’t want go,” I say. “It’s too cold.”
“It’s never too cold for school,” Mama says. “Warm up good and let Uncle Al button your coat for you.”
I get closer to the fire and I feel the fire hot on my pants. I turn around and warm my back. I turn again, and Uncle Al leans over and buttons my coat. Uncle Al’s pipe almost gets in my face, and it don’t smell good.
“Now,” Uncle Al says. “You all ready to go. You want take a potato with you?”
“Uh-huh.”
Uncle Al leans over and gets me a potato out of the ashes. He knocks all the ashes off and puts the potato in my pocket.
“Wait,” Mama says. “Mama, don’t you have a little paper bag?”
Gran’mon looks on the mantelpiece and gets a paper bag. There’s something in the bag, and she takes it out and hands the bag to Mama. Mama puts the potato in the bag and puts it in my pocket. Then she goes and gets my book and tucks it under my arm.
“Now you ready,” she says. “And remember, when you get out for dinner, come back here. Don’t you forget and go up home now. You hear, Sonny?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Come on,” Uncle Al says. “I’ll open the gate for you.”
“ ’Bye, Mama,” I say.
“Be a good boy,” Mama says. “Eat your potato at recess. Don’t eat it in class now.”
Me and Uncle Al go out on the gallery. The sun is shining but it’s still cold out there. Spot follows me and Uncle Al down the walk. Uncle Al opens the gate for me and I go out in the road, I hate to leave Uncle Al and Spot. And I hate to leave Mama—and I hate to leave the fire. But I got to, because they want me to learn.
“See you at twelve,” Uncle Al says.
I go up the quarter and Uncle Al and Spot go back to the house. I see all the children going to school. But I don’t see Lucy. When I get to her house, I’m go’n stop at the gate and call her. She must be don’t want go to school, cold as it is.
It still got some ice in the water. I better not walk in the water. I’ll get my feet wet, and Mama’ll whip me.
When I get closer, I look and I see Lucy and her mama on the gallery. Lucy’s mama ties her bonnet for her, and Lucy comes down the steps. She runs down the walk toward the gate. Lucy’s bonnet is red and her coat is red.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” she says.
“It’s some cold,” I say.
“Unnn-hunnnn,” Lucy says.
Me and Lucy walk side by side up the quarter. Lucy’s got her book in her book sack.
“We moved,” I say. “We staying with Gran’mon now.”
“Y’all moved?” Lucy asks.
“Uh-huh.”
“Y’all didn’t move,” Lucy says. “When y’all moved?”
“This morning.”
“Who moved y’all?” Lucy asks.
“Me and Mama,” I say. “I’m go’n sleep with Uncle Al.”
“My legs getting cold,” Lucy says.
“I got a potato,” I say. “In my pocket.”
“You go’n eat it and give me piece?” Lucy says.
“Uh-huh.” I say. “At recess.”
Me and Lucy walk up the quarter, and Lucy stops and touches the ice with her shoe.
“You go’n get your foot wet,” I say.
“No, I’m not,” Lucy says.
Lucy breaks the ice with her shoe and laughs. I laugh and I break a piece of ice with my shoe. Me and Lucy laugh and I see the smoke coming out of Lucy’s mouth. I open my mouth and go “Haaaa” and plenty smoke comes out of my mouth. Lucy laughs and points at the smoke.
Me and Lucy go on up the quarter to the schoolhouse. Billy Joe Martin and Ju-Ju and them’s playing marbles right by the gate. Over ’side the schoolhouse Shirley and Dottie and Katie’s jumping rope. On the other side of the schoolhouse some more children playing “Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker-man” to keep warm. Lucy goes where Shirley and them’s jumping rope and asks them to play. I stop where Billy Joe Martin and them’s at and watch them shoot marbles.
2
It’s warm inside the schoolhouse. Bill made a big fire in the heater, and I can hear it roaring up the pipes. I look out the window and I can see the smoke flying across the yard. Bill sure knows how to make a good fire. Bill’s the biggest boy in school, and he always makes the fire for us.
Everybody’s studying their lesson, but I don’t know mine. I wish I knowed it, but I don’t. Mama didn’t teach me my lesson last night, and she didn’t teach it to me this morning, and I don’t know it.
“Bob and Rex in the yard. Rex is barking at the cow.” I don’t know what all this other reading is. I see “Rex” again, and I see “cow” again—but I don’t know what
all the rest of it is.
Bill comes up to the heater and I look up and see him putting another piece of wood in the fire. He goes back to his seat and sits down ’side Juanita. Miss Hebert looks at Bill when he goes back to his seat. I look in my book at Bob and Rex. Bob’s got on a white shirt and blue pants. Rex is a German police dog. He’s white and brown. Mr. Bouie’s got a dog just like Rex. He don’t bite though. He’s a good dog. But Mr. Guerin’s old dog’ll bite you for sure. I seen him this morning when me and Mama was going down to Gran’mon’s house.
I ain’t go’n eat dinner at us house because me and Mama don’t stay there no more. I’m go’n eat at Gran’mon’s house. I don’t know where Daddy go’n eat dinner. He must be go’n cook his own dinner.
I can hear Bill and Juanita back of me. They whispering to each other, but I can hear them. Juanita’s some pretty. I wish I was big so I could love her. But I better look at my lesson and don’t think about other things.
“First grade,” Miss Hebert says.
We go up to the front and sit down on the bench. Miss Hebert looks at us and make a mark in her roll book. She puts the roll book down and comes over to the bench where we at.
“Does everyone know his lesson today?” she asks.
“Yes ma’am,” Lucy says, louder than anybody else in the whole schoolhouse.
“Good,” Miss Hebert says. “And I’ll start with you today, Lucy. Hold your book in one hand and begin.”
“ ‘Bob and Rex are in the yard,’ ” Lucy reads. “ ‘Rex is barking at the cow. The cow is watching Rex.’”
“Good,” Miss Hebert says. “Point to barking.”
Lucy points.
“Good, now point to watching.”
Lucy points again.
“Good,” Miss Hebert says. “Shirley Ann, let’s see how well you can read.”
I look in the book at Bob and Rex. “Rex is barking at the cow. The cow is looking at Rex.”
“William Joseph,” Miss Hebert says.
I’m next, I’m scared. I don’t know my lesson and Miss Hebert go’n whip me. Miss Hebert don’t like you when you don’t know your lesson. I can see her strap over there on the table. I can see the clock and the little bell, too. Bill split the end of the strap, and them little ends sting some. Soon’s Billy Joe Martin finishes, then it’s me. I don’t know . . . Mama ought to been . . . “Bob and Rex” . . .