A Long Day in November (5 page)

“Daddy coming, Mama,” I say.

“Wait,” Gran'mon says, coming out the kitchen. “Let me talk to that nigger. I'll give him a piece of my mind.”

Gran'mon goes to the door and pushes it open. She stands in the door and I hear Daddy talking to Spot. Then Daddy comes up to the gallery.

“Amy in there, Mama?” Daddy says.

“She is,” Gran'mon says.

I hear Daddy coming up the steps.

“And where you think you going?” Gran'mon asks.

“I want to speak to her,” Daddy says.

“Well, she don't want to speak to you,” Gran'mon says. “So you might's well go right on back down them steps and march right straight out of my yard.”

“I want speak to my wife,” Daddy says.

“She ain't your wife no more,” Gran'mon says. “She left you.”

“What you mean she left me?” Daddy says.

“She ain't up at your house no more, is she?” Gran'mon says. “That look like a good enough sign to me that she done left.”

“Amy?” Daddy calls.

Mama don't answer him. She's looking down in the fire. I don't feel good when Mama's looking like that.

“Amy?” Daddy calls.

Mama still don't answer him.

“You satisfied?” Gran'mon says.

“You the one trying to make Amy leave me,” Daddy says. “You ain't never liked me—from the starting.”

“That's right, I never did,” Gran'mon says. “You yellow, you got a gap 'tween your teeth, and you ain't no good. You want me to say more?”

“You always wanted her to marry somebody else,” Daddy says.

“You right again,” Gran'mon says.

“Amy?” Daddy calls. “Can you hear me, honey?”

“She can hear you,” Gran'mon says. “She's standing right there by that fireplace. She can hear you good's I can hear you, and nigger, I can hear you too good for comfort.”

“I'm going in there,” Daddy says. “She got somebody in there and I'm going in there and see.”

“You just take one more step toward my door,” Gran'mon says, “and it'll take a' undertaker to get you out of here. So help me, God, I'll get that butcher knife out of that kitchen and chop on your tail till I can't see tail to chop
on. You the kind of nigger like to rip and run up and down the road in your car long's you got a dime, but when you get broke and your belly get empty, you run to your wife and cry on her shoulder. You just take one more step toward this door, and I bet you somebody'll be crying at your funeral. If you know anybody who care that much for you, you old yellow dog.”

Daddy is quiet a while, and then I hear him crying. I don't feel good, because I don't like to hear Daddy and Mama crying. I look at Mama, but she's looking down in the fire.

“You never liked me,” Daddy says.

“You said that before,” Gran'mon says. “And I repeat, no, I never liked you, don't like you, and never will like you. Now get out my yard 'fore I put the dog on you.”

“I want see my boy,” Daddy says, “I got a right to see my boy.”

“In the first place, you ain't got no right in my yard,” Gran'mon says.

“I want see my boy,” Daddy says. “You might be able to keep me from seeing my wife, but you and nobody else can keep me from seeing my son. Half of him is me and I want see my—I want see him.”

“You ain't leaving?” Gran'mon asks Daddy.

“I want see my boy,” Daddy says. “And I'm go'n see my boy.”

“Wait,” Gran'mon says. “Your head hard. Wait till I
come back. You go'n see all kind of boys.” Gran'mon comes back inside and goes to Uncle Al's room. I look toward the wall and I can hear Daddy moving on the gallery. I hear Mama crying and I look at her. I don't want see my mama crying, and I lay my head on Uncle Al's knee and I want cry, too.

“Amy, honey,” Daddy calls, “ain't you coming up home and cook me something to eat? It's lonely up there without you, honey. You don't know how lonely it is without you. I can't stay up there without you, honey. Please come home.”

I hear Gran'mon coming out of Uncle Al's room and I look at her. Gran'mon's got Uncle Al's shotgun and she's putting a shell in it.

“Mama?” Mama screams.

“Don't worry,” Gran'mon says. “I'm just go'n shoot over his head. I ain't go'n have them sending me to the pen for a good-for-nothing nigger like that.”

“Mama, don't,” Mama says. “He might hurt himself.”

“Good,” Gran'mon says. “Save me the trouble of doing it for him.”

Mama runs to the wall. “Eddie, run,” she screams. “Mama got the shotgun.”

I hear Daddy going down the steps. I hear Spot running after him barking. Gran'mon knocks the door open with the gun barrel and shoot. I hear Daddy hollering.

“Mama, you didn't?” Mama says.

“I shot two miles over that nigger's head,” Gran'mon
says. “Long-legged coward.”

We all run out on the gallery, and I see Daddy out in the road crying. I can see the people coming out on the galleries. They looking at us and they looking at Daddy. Daddy's standing out in the road crying.

“Boy, I would've like to seen old Eddie getting out of this yard,” Uncle Al says.

Daddy's walking up and down the road in front of the house, and he's crying.

“Let's go back inside,” Gran'mon says. “We won't be bothered with him for a while.”

It's cold, and we all go back to the fire. Mama starts crying and goes back in the kitchen, and Mr. Freddie Jackson goes back there, too. Gran'mon's in Uncle Al's room putting up the gun, and I can hear her singing round there. She comes back in this side singing. She looks at the front door again, but she goes back in the kitchen where Mama and Mr. Freddie Jackson's at. I hear Mr. Freddie Jackson talking. Mama ain't saying nothing; she's still crying.

“Gran'mon shot Daddy?” I ask Uncle Al.

“Just scared him little bit,” Uncle Al says.

Uncle Al pulls me between his knees. I look at the fire.

“Like your daddy, don't you?” Uncle Al says.

“Uh-huh.”

“Your daddy's all right,” Uncle Al says. “Little foolish when it comes to cars, but he's all right.”

“I don't like Mr. Freddie Jackson,” I say.

“How come?” Uncle Al says.

“I don't like for him to stand close to my mama,” I say.

“Every time I look, he trying to stand close to my mama. My daddy suppose to stand close to my mama.”

“You want go back home and be with your daddy?” Uncle Al asks.

“Uh-huh,” I say. “But me and Mama go'n stay here now. I'm go'n sleep with you.”

“But you rather go home and sleep in your own bed, huh?”

“Yes,” I say. “I pull the cover 'way over my head. I like to sleep under the cover.”

“You sleep like that all the time?” Uncle Al asks.

“Uh-huh.”

“Even in the summertime, too?” Uncle Al says.

“Uh-huh,” I say.

“Don't you ever get too warm?” Uncle Al says.

“Uh-uh,” I say. “I feel good 'way under there.”

Uncle Al rubs my head and I look down in the fire.

“Y'all come on in the kitchen and eat,” Gran'mon calls.

Me and Uncle Al go back in the kitchen, and I see Mama and Mr. Freddie Jackson sitting at the table. Mama's got her head bowed. She raises her head and looks at me. I can see where she's been crying. She gets up from the table.

“You ate nothing all day,” Gran'mon says. “Ain't you go'n eat?”

“I'm not hungry,” Mama says.

“That's right, starve yourself,” Gran'mon says. “See if that yellow thing out there care. Freddie?”

“I ate just 'fore I came over,” he says.

They go in the front to sit at the fire. Gran'mon brings me and Uncle Al's food to the table. Uncle Al looks at me and we bow us heads.

“Thank Thee, Father, for this food Thou has given us,” Uncle Al says.

I raise my head and start eating. We having spaghetti for dinner. I pick up a string of spaghetti and suck it up in my mouth. I make it go
loo-loo-loo-loo-loo-loo-loop
. Uncle Al looks at me and laugh. I do it again, and Uncle Al laughs again.

“Don't play with my food,” Gran'mon says. “Eat it right.”

Gran'mon is standing 'side the stove looking at me. I don't like old Gran'mon. Shooting at my daddy—I don't like her.

“Taste good?” Uncle Al asks.

“Uh-huh,” I say.

Uncle Al winks at me and wraps his spaghetti on his fork and sticks it in his mouth. I try to wrap mine on my fork, but it keeps falling off. I can just pick up one at a time.

Gran'mon starts singing her song again. She fools round the stove a little while, and then she goes in the
front room. I get a string of spaghetti and suck it up in my mouth. When I hear her coming back, I stop and eat right.

“Still out there,” she says. “Sitting on that ditch bank crying like a baby. Let him cry. But he better not come back in this yard.”

Gran'mon goes over to the stove and sticks a piece of wood in the fire. She starts singing again:

When Uncle Al finish eating, he gets himself a cup of coffee. Then he comes back to the table and sits down. He takes a good swallow of coffee and says, “Ahhhh. Want some?”

“I done told you before I don't want you giving that boy that coffee,” Gran'mon says.

“I want poo-poo, Uncle Al,” I say.

“Put your coat on,” he says.

I go in the front room to get my coat, and I see Mama and Mr. Freddie Jackson sitting at the fireplace warming. I go back in the kitchen so Uncle Al can button my coat up for me. Then I go back in the front room again. Mama looks at me and ask me where I'm going.

“Toilet,” I say.

“When you finish, you come on back in here,” she says.

I go out on the gallery, and I see Daddy sitting on the ditch bank'side the road. I don't say nothing to Daddy, I go on round the house. The grass is dry like hay. There ain't a leaf in that pecan tree—but I see a bird up there, and the wind 's moving the bird's feathers. I bet you that little bird's some cold. I'm glad I'm not a bird. No daddy, no mama—I'm glad I'm not a bird.

I go in the toilet and look around, but I don't see no frogs or nothing. I get up on the seat and pull down my pants, then I squat over the hole. I can feel the wind coming up through the hole on me and I hurry up before I get too cold.

When I finish my poo-poo, I use a piece of paper out the catalog. Then I jump down off the seat and spit down in the hole the way I see Daddy do. I look up at the top for some spiders, but I don't see none. We got two spiders in us toilet at home. Gran'mon must be done killed all her spiders with Flit.

I push the door open and go back to the house. When I come round the gallery I see Daddy standing at the gate looking in the yard. He sees me.

“Sonny?” he calls.

“Hanh?”

“Come here, baby,” he says.

I look toward the door, but I don't see nobody and I go to the gate where Daddy is. Daddy pushes the gate open and grabs me and hugs me to him.

“You still love your daddy, Sonny?” he asks.

“Uh-huh,” I say.

Daddy hugs me and kisses me on the face.

“I love my baby,” he says. “I love my baby. Where your mama?”

“Sitting at the fireplace warming,” I say. “Mr. Freddie Jackson sitting there warming, too.”

Daddy pushes me away real quickly and looks in my face.

“Who else sitting there warming?” he asks. “Who?”

“Just them,” I say. “Uncle Al's drinking coffee at the table. Gran'mon's standing 'side the stove warming.”

Daddy looks toward the house.

“This the last straw,” he says. “I'm turning your Gran'mon in this minute. And you go'n be my witness. Come on.”

“Where we going?” I ask.

“To that preacher's house,” Daddy says. “And if he can't help me, I'm going back in the field to Madame Toussaint.”

Daddy grabs my hand and me and him go up the quarter. I can see all the children going back to school.

“Step it up, Sonny,” Daddy says.

“I'm coming fast as I can,” I say.

“I'll see about that,” Daddy says. “I'll see about that.”