A Long Day in November (8 page)

“Her foot hurt her from standing up all day,” Mr. Frank says. “How she knowed all this, only God knows. But she told me I had to rub Julie's foot—'specially her big toe—that joint on the side there.” I look down at my shoe. I can't see my foot.

“You see when Julie was young, she sprained her big toe and never had it corrected,” Mr. Frank says. “So it trouble her now when she stand up a lot. Said for me to take little salve and rub it every night. Don't quit just 'cause Julie start giggling. Giggling like that just 'cause I don't rub her foot enough. After I been doing it a while, she won't giggle at all. How that old woman know all this, only God knows.”

“It worked?” Daddy asks.

“Getting along like two peas in a pod,” Mr. Frank says. “Every night after she wash her foot, I take little salve and rub it for her. Done already stopped giggling. Less I kinda tickle her little bit with my finger.

“But what I'm telling you all this for?” Mr. Frank says quickly. “That's private.”

“It won't get no farther than right here,” Daddy says. “You right, though, it can't help me. Amy don't even have no foot trouble.”

“She will when she gets older,” Mr. Frank says. “Well, I got to get back to work. What you go'n do now?”

“I don't know,” Daddy says. “If I had three dollars she'd give me some advice. But I don't have a red copper. You wouldn't have three dollars you could spare till payday, huh?”

“I don't have a dime,” Mr. Frank says. “Since we made up, Julie keeps most of the money.”

“You think she'd lend me three dollars till Saturday?” Daddy asks.

“I don't know if she got that much on her,” Mr. Frank says. “I'll go over and ask her.”

I watch Mr. Frank going 'cross the rows where Mrs. Julie's cutting cane. They start talking, and then I hear them laughing.

“You warm?” Daddy asks.

“Uh-huh.”

I see Mr. Frank coming back to the fire.

“She don't have it on her, but she got it at the house,” Mr. Frank says. “If you can wait till we knock off.”

“No,” Daddy says. “I can't wait till night. I got to try to borrow it from somebody now.”

“Why don't you go 'cross the field and try Johnny Green?” Mr. Frank says. “He's always got some money. Maybe he'll lend it to you.”

“I'll ask him,” Daddy says. “Get on, Sonny.”

Me and Daddy go back 'cross the field. I can hear Mr. Johnny Green singing, and Daddy turns that way and we go down where Mr. Johnny is. Mr. Johnny stops his singing when he sees me and Daddy. He chops the top off a' armful
of cane and throws it 'cross the row. Mr. Johnny's cutting cane all by himself.

“Hi, Brother Howard,” Mr. Johnny says.

“Hi,” Daddy says. Daddy squats down and let me slide off.

“Hi there, little Brother Sonny,” Mr. Johnny says.

“Hi,” I say.

“How you?” Mr. Johnny asks.

“I'm all right,” I say.

“That's good,” Mr. Johnny says. “And how you this beautiful God-sent day, Brother Howard?”

“I'm fine,” Daddy says. “Johnny, I want to know if you can spare me 'bout three dollars till Saturday?”

“Sure, Brother Howard,” Mr. Johnny says. “You mind telling me just why you need it? I don't mind lending a good brother anything, long's I know he ain't wasting it on women or drink.”

“I want pay Madame Toussaint for some advice,” Daddy says.

“Little trouble, Brother?” Mr. Johnny asks.

“Amy done left me, Johnny,” Daddy says. “I need some advice. I just got to get her back.”

“I know what you mean, Brother,” Mr. Johnny says. “I had to visit Madame—you won't carry this no farther, huh?”

“No,” Daddy says.

“Couple months ago I had to take a little trip back there to see her,” Mr. Johnny says. “Little misunderstanding
between me and Sister Laura.”

“She helped?” Daddy asks.

“Told me to stop spending so much time in church and little more time at home,” Mr. Johnny says. “I couldn't see that. You know, far back as I can go in my family my people been good church members.”

“I know that,” Daddy says.

“My pappy was a deacon and my mammy didn't miss a Sunday long as I can remember,” Mr. Johnny says. “And that's how I was raised. To fear God. I just couldn't see it when she first told me that. But I thought it over. I went for a long walk back in the field. I got down on my knees and looked up at the sky. I asked God to show me the way—to tell me what to do. And He did, He surely did. He told me to do just like Madame Toussaint said. Slack up going to church. Go twice a week, but spend the rest of the time with her. Just like that He told me. And I'm doing exactly what He said. Twice a week. And, Brother Howard, don't spread this round, but there might be a little Johnny next summer sometime.”

“No?” Daddy says.

“Uhnnnn-hunh,” Mr. Johnny says.

“I'll be doggone,” Daddy says. “I'm glad to hear that.”

“I'll be the happiest man on this whole plantation,” Mr. Johnny says.

“I know how you feel,” Daddy says. “Yes, I know how you feel. But that three, can you lend it to me?”

“Sure, Brother,” Mr. Johnny says. “Anything to bring a family back together. Nothing more important in this world than family love. Yes, indeed.” Mr. Johnny unbuttons his top overalls pocket and takes out a dollar.

“Only thing I got is five, Brother Howard,” he says. “You wouldn't happen to have some change, would you?”

“I don't have a red copper,” Daddy says. “But I'll be more than happy if you can let me have that five. I need some grocery in the house, too.”

“Sure, Brother,” Mr. Johnny says. He hands Daddy the dollar. “Nothing looks more beautiful than a family at a table eating something the little woman just cooked. But you did say Saturday, didn't you, Brother?”

“Yes,” Daddy says. “I'll pay you back soon's I get paid. You can't ever guess how much this means to me, Johnny.”

“Glad I can help, Brother,” Mr. Johnny says. “Hope she can do likewise.”

“I hope so too,” Daddy says. “Anyhow, this a start.”

“See you Saturday, Brother,” Mr. Johnny says.

“Soon's I get paid,” Daddy says. “Hop on, Sonny, and hold tight. We going back.”

D
addy walks up on Madame Toussaint's gallery and knocks on the door.

“Who that?” Madame Toussaint asks.

“Me. Eddie Howard,” Daddy says. He squats down so I can slide off his back. I slide down and let Daddy hold my hand.

“What you want, Eddie Howard?” Madame Toussaint asks.

“I got three dollars,” Daddy says. “I still want that advice.”

Madame Toussaint's big old jet-black dog barks three
times, and then I hear Madame Toussaint coming to the door. She peeps through the keyhole at me and Daddy. She opens the door and let me and Daddy come in. We go to the fireplace and warm. Madame Toussaint comes to the fireplace and sits down in her big old rocking chair. She looks up at Daddy. I look for big old Rollo, but I don't see him. He must be under the bed or hiding somewhere in the corner.

“You got three dollars?” Madame Toussaint asks Daddy.

“Yes,” Daddy says. He takes out the dollar and shows it to Madame Toussaint.

Madame Toussaint holds her hand up for it.

“This is five,” Daddy says. “I want two back.”

“You go'n get your two,” Madame Toussaint says.

“Come to think of it,” Daddy says, “I ought to just owe you two and a quarter, since I done already gived you seventy-five cents.”

“You want advice?” Madame Toussaint asks Daddy.

Madame Toussaint looks like she's getting mad with Daddy now.

“Sure,” Daddy says. “But since—”

“Then shut up and hand me your money,” Madame Toussaint says.

“But I done already—” Daddy says.

“Get out my house, nigger,” Madame Toussaint says.

“And don't come back till you learn how to act.”

“All right,” Daddy says, “I'll give you three more dollars.”

He hands Madame Toussaint the dollar.

Madame Toussaint gets her pocketbook out her pocket. Then she leans close to the fire so she can look down in it. She sticks her hand in the pocketbook and gets two dollars. She looks at the two dollars a long time. She stands up and gets her eyeglasses off the mantelpiece and puts them on her eyes. She looks at the two dollars a long time, then she hands them to Daddy. She sticks the dollar bill Daddy gived her in the pocketbook, then she takes her eyeglasses off and puts them back on the mantelpiece. Madame Toussaint sits in her big old rocking chair and starts poking in the fire with the three sticks again. Her face gets red from the fire, her eyes get big and white. I turn my head and hide behind Daddy's leg.

“Go set fire to your car,” Madame Toussaint says.

“What?” Daddy says.

“Go set fire to your car,” Madame Toussaint says.

“You talking to me?” Daddy says.

“Go set fire to your car,” Madame Toussaint says.

“Now, just a minute,” Daddy says. “I didn't give you my hard-earned three dollars for that kind of foolishness. I dismiss that seventy-five cents you took from me, but not my three dollars that easy.”

“You want your wife back?” Madame Toussaint asks Daddy.

“That's what I'm paying you for,” Daddy says.

“Then go set fire to your car,” Madame Toussaint says.

“You can't have both.”

“You must be fooling,” Daddy says.

“I don't fool,” Madame Toussaint says. “You paid for advice and I'm giving you advice.”

“You mean that?” Daddy says. “You mean I got to go burn up my car for Amy to come back home?”

“If you want her back there,” Madame Toussaint says. “Do you?”

“I wouldn't be standing here if I didn't,” Daddy says.

“Then go and burn it up,” Madame Toussaint says. “A gallon of coal oil and a penny box of match ought to do the trick. You got any gas in it?”

“A little bit—if nobody ain't drained it,” Daddy says.

“Then you can use that,” Madame Toussaint says. “But if you want her back there, you got to burn it up. That's my advice to you. And if I was you, I'd do it right away. You can never tell.”

“Tell about what?” Daddy asks.

“She might be with another man a week from now,” Madame Toussaint says. “This man loves her and he's kind. And that's what a woman wants. That's what they need. You men don't know this, but you better learn it before it's too late.”

“What's the other man's name?” Daddy asks. “Can it be Freddie Jackson?”

“It can,” Madame Toussaint says. “But it don't have to be. Any man that'd give her love and kindness.”

“I love her,” Daddy says. “I give her kindness. I'm always giving her love and kindness.”

“When you home, you mean,” Madame Toussaint says.

“How about when you running up and down the road in your car? How do you think she feels then?”

Daddy don't say nothing.

“You men better learn,” Madame Toussaint says. “Now, if you want her, go and burn it. If you don't want her, go and get drunk off them two dollars and sleep in a cold bed tonight.”

“You mean she'll come back tonight?” Daddy asks.

“She's ready to come back right now,” Madame Toussaint says. “Poor little thing.”

I look round Daddy's leg at Madame Toussaint. Madame Toussaint's looking in the fire. Her face ain't red no more; her eyes ain't big and white, either.

“She's not happy where she is,” Madame Toussaint says.

“She's with her mama,” Daddy says.

“You don't have to tell me my business,” Madame Toussaint says. “I know where she is. And I still say she's not happy. She much rather be back in her own house. Women like to be in their own house. That's their world. You men done messed up the outside world so bad that they feel lost and out of place in it. Her house is her world. Only there she can do what she want. She can't do that in anybody else house—mama or nobody else. But you men don't know any of this. Y'all never know
how a woman feels, because you never ask how she feels. Long's she there when you get there you satisfied. Long's you give her two or three dollars every weekend you think she ought to be satisfied. But keep on. One day all of you'll find out.”