“Yeah, once this heat start setting in.”
“Where’s Herb?” he asked.
“Working.”
“Don’t you go to work today?”
“Yeah, but I don’t go till late,” I said. “All I have to do is make a cake today. And I don’t have to go till I get ready.”
He turned and looked outside, and his back was to me. He was wearing a brown shirt and a pair of brown pants. The shirt had short sleeves, but he still had ’em rolled up some.
I wiped the plate and put it in the safe. And I got another one and started wiping it out.
“How’s Miss Charlotte?”
“Okay,” he said, looking out in the yard. I knowed he was looking at all the weeds we had out there, and I had asked Dad a hundred times to chop ’em down. I had kept the little ones down ’side the walk back there, but I wasn’t going to hurt myself trying to chop down them big weeds. That was a man’s job.
I carried the plate to the safe, and I got one more and wiped it out. When I finished this, I folded the rag and stuck it in the safe drawer. Jackson heard me pushing the drawer, and he glanced over his shoulder.
“Finished work?” he said, smiling.
“Yes.”
“Would you like to go for a walk somewhere?” he asked. “I would like to talk to you.”
“All right.”
I went to my room to get my hat. He owe me some kind of explanation for all he been doing, I thought in there, and this walk I been waiting for since he been here. I thank God it done come at last.
I put my hat on and went back to the kitchen where he was.
He glanced at my hat when I came back in there, and then we left. I wanted all of ’em to see us together, now, and soon as we went out the gate I saw Nancy deRogers come out on her gallery to watch us. And I saw Emmy peeping from behind a curtain at us when we was passing by their place. But she didn’t come out on the gallery the way Nancy did. When we got down to Mr. James Martin, Mrs. Sarah was sitting out on the gallery shelling a pan of beans. She raised her arm to wave at us. We waved back. She asked Jackson how Miss Charlotte was. Jackson said she was all right.
“That’s good,” Mrs. Sarah said. “I’ll probably go up there after I get dinner done.” That was the last house along the stream, and after we passed it we was back in the field. There wasn’t any trees here, like there was along the stream. There was just sugarcane on both side of us. The sugarcane went so far, and then you came to corn, and then to cotton. On the other side of the cotton was the pasture where Mr. Boudreau and ’em kept their cattles. They had trees along the pasture, and I reckoned that’s where we was going. I tried to think what he wanted to talk to me ’bout. Just last night I seen him going over there, and he knowed I seen him, so what it was he wanted to talk ’bout? Did he want to tell me to keep out his business? I didn’t think that was it, ’cause look to me like if that was it, he would’ve been mad when he came to the house. But he wasn’t mad at all. Just the other way ’round.
I didn’t know what he had on his mind, but this was my chance, and I was going to speak my piece today. I was going to ask all the questions I had been storing up and I was going to tell him what I thought. I just wanted the Lord to give me strength, and I was going to speak my piece.
I hoped what he had to say was something good, and if it was, soons I went back, I was going straight to old Emmy and tell her all ’bout it. Just day ’fore yesterday she was saying he wasn’t this, he wasn’t that; and I was a fool for being that way ’bout him. I sure felt good when I passed by there and seen her peeping from behind that curtain. She thought nobody seen her there, but I did. I knowed she was going to be there, and that’s why I made it my business to look that way when we was passing.
I bet you her and Nancy deRogers was going to have a big talk ’bout what happened. I could just hear ’em right now. I bet you she had already gone over to Nancy’s house.
Well, let ’em talk all they wanted. I wanted to be looking in her face when I told her he proposed to me. That would be something. I bet you her mouth’d fall open a foot. And then me and him’d go to Bayonne and get the ring. And every time I seen her in the road I’d flash it in her face. I’d be the happiest person in the world if that’s what it was. I’d show it to every last one of ’em. All of ’em. Everyone who been saying I’m a fool. Dad, ’specially. I’d show it to him every time he looked my way. I’d keep it shiny and every time he looked at me it’d be flashing.
I ought to not get my hopes up that high, I thought. It could’ve been anything. It didn’t have to be a proposal. Maybe he wanted to ask me if I wanted to go to Bayonne to a show, or maybe he wanted to ask me if I want to go to New Orleans one day with him and Brother. But if it was no more ’an that, he could’ve asked me that at home, couldn’t he? Did he have to come way across here for that? It must’ve been something big he wanted to say. Something—and he didn’t want to be stopped with somebody running in the house. But I better stop thinking ’bout it, I thought. I’d find out soon enough.
IV
“That looks like a good place to sit down,” Jackson said.
We’d turned off the road and went over to the tree, and he took out his pocket handkerchief and spread it out on the ground for me to sit on.
“No. You,” I said.
“These things are already dirty,” he said. “Sitting on the ground can’t make them look any worse.”
“They look all right,” I said.
“That’s because of the shade,” he said. “You can’t see the dirt in the shade.”
I sat on the handkerchief and spread out my dress. I was wearing a white dress with lots of big flowers in it. I think it was Miss Charlotte who had give me the cloth. And I had made the dress myself.
When I sat down, Jackson moved back and sat against the tree.
“Watch for ants, there,” I said.
Jackson leaned forward and looked at the tree, and then he leaned back ’gainst it again.
“None,” he said, stretching out his legs and looking at me. I looked over at him, and then I looked down the field like I saw something down there I was interested in. There wasn’t nothing down there, but I just couldn’t look at him when he was looking at me like that. If he wasn’t I could look at him all day, ’cause I like to look at him. But I couldn’t look at him at all if he was looking at me at the same time.
“Why haven’t you gotten married?” he said.
“Me?” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“Never found nobody,” I said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Did you look for somebody?”
“I guess not.”
“You can’t find anyone unless you look for him.”
“How come you ain’t married?” I said, looking at him.
“Oh, I’m married,” he said.
“You married?” I said.
“Of course.”
“When you got married?” I said.
Jackson laughed, and I laughed, too. I thought he was really telling me the truth.
“No, I’m not married,” he said.
“How come?”
“I never found anyone I would like to be married to.”
“Lillian’s there,” I said. And I looked at him to see what he was going to say to that.
“I’m afraid I’m not Lillian’s kind, as far as marriage goes. And I don’t think she’s my kind either—as far as marriage goes.”
“You don’t love her?”
“No,” he said.
“What you go over there for, then?”
“Where else can you go ’round here?”
“It got other places to go to.”
“Name one,” he said.
“They got Bayonne, there,” I said.
“I don’t like Bayonne,” he said.
They sure got more there ’an they got over here, I said to myself.
“You ever go to Bayonne?” he asked.
“Sometimes.”
“With your boyfriend?”
“By myself,” I said. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t have one,” I said.
“You mean you don’t have one now?”
“I never had one,” I said.
“Come, now.”
“None I cared for.”
“But you did have some.”
“I didn’t care for any of ’em,” I said.
“Not one?”
“No,” I said. “Not one of ’em.”
A bird flew from ’cross the pasture and lit on one of the cotton stalks. He hit the stalk pretty hard, and it bent forward with him. Look like he was going to fall off, but he held on tight. But he didn’t stay there for long. He just came there to rest, and then he flew away again. A green pecan fell out the tree and landed in the middle by us. I looked at it laying there in the middle, but all the time I could feel Jackson still looking at me.
“Why did you stay here, Mary Louise?” he said. “Don’t you have people in the city?”
“I got some there,” I said.
“Then why didn’t you go to them and go on and finish school?”
“I wanted to stay here.”
“Why? To work in some white woman’s kitchen all your life?”
“That wasn’t my reason.”
“What was it?”
I raised my head and looked at him, and then I looked away again.
“Mary Louise,” he said.
“What?” I said, with my head still down.
I wasn’t going to look at him again, ’cause I knowed now he wasn’t going to say he loved me, and he wasn’t going to propose to me. He wasn’t going to ask me to go to a show or to New Orleans with him. He wasn’t going to ask me none of that. He just wanted me back there so he could talk to me like I was a child and he was somebody older. Like he knowed the answer to everything.
“Do you remember when we were small?”
I nodded.
“We loved each other. You remember how much we loved each other?”
“Yes.”
“Then I went away. How old was I? I was twelve, wasn’t I? And you were what? How old were you?”
I didn’t answer him.
“Hanh?”
“I don’t know. Ten, I guess.”
“That’s right. You were ten, and I was twelve. And that’s been ten years. Ten long years. And lots of things can change in ten years. Don’t you agree?”
No, I didn’t agree, but I didn’t say it. It hadn’t changed with me, and I wasn’t going to say it had, ’cause it hadn’t. He wanted me to say it so his conscience would be clear, but I wasn’t going to say it.
“Did you expect me to come back after ten years and pick up where we left off? Did you, Mary Louise?”
I still didn’t answer him. And after that he was quiet, and just looking at me. I picked up some dirt and rubbed it between my fingers.
“It can’t ever be like that again,” I heard him saying.
A drop of water fell in the place where I had got the dirt from. I raised my hand and wiped my eyes, but I kept my head down all the time.
“Time changes people,” he said. “Everybody changes. I expected to come back here and find you married.”
“To who?” I said.
“I don’t know. Somebody.”
He went on, but I didn’t hear him no more. I still had the dirt in my hand, and I stirred it ’round with my fingers.
At first I tried to hold my crying back, but it wasn’t no use; I just let it come the way it wanted to. I wasn’t shamed to cry in front of him. I had cried in front of him before; and this time was just like the others. Like we was still small, and he had never been anywhere.
He moved from ’gainst the tree and came over where I was. He started talking to me, but I didn’t try to make out what he was saying. All I could think about was what a fool I had been. How right everybody else was, and how wrong I was all this time. I couldn’t think of nothing else.
Did he think I liked going up to that white woman’s house every day? Did he think I liked taking her ’buses? Or them white men telling me anything they wanted or pinching me ever’ time they passed by? Did he think I liked that—or Dad fussing at me both night and day? And all the rest of ’em there making fun of me when there wasn’t anybody else to pick on? Did he think I liked that? He put his arms ’round my shoulders and pulled me closer to him, but I knowed why he did it, and I jerked myself away.
“I don’t need your pity.”
“I wasn’t trying to pity you.”
“Take it to somebody else. Take it to them yellow bitches you like to go ’round. Just don’t bring it to me.”
I got to my feet and stood right over him. I hoped there was something close by I could hit him with. I couldn’t see a thing, and I drawed back and hit him with my fist hard as I could. I hit him again, and I hit him again, and he didn’t even try to get out my way. He just sat there with his head down, not even flinching.
I turned and started running toward the end. I was crying too hard to watch where I was going, and I stumbled and fell. I got up and started running again. I didn’t know why I was running; I just had to run.
When I got to the road up by the stream I looked back, but I couldn’t see him. I passed my hand over my face, and tried to look like nothing had happened back there. Mrs. Sarah looked at me when I passed by her house, but I made ’tend I didn’t see her.
When I got home I went to my room and locked the door. I just wanted to be by myself so I could think what a fool I had been. All my life I had been nothing but a fool for people.
MY GRANDPA AND THE HAINT
At first it wasn’t much more than a grunt. Something like—“Un-hunh.” Then he was quiet. Then he did it again, twice. “Un-hunh, un-hunh.” Then quiet again. Then the third time he did it he didn’t even try to hold it back. He just came right out and giggled.
I’ll give him twenty, I said. One, two, three, four—I got to twelve, and Pap said, “Guess that’s enough for today. Catch ’em all one day, won’t have nothing left to come back for.”
So we pulled in our lines and went up the bank. I was carrying the string of fish, and Pap was walking in front of me with that little fishing pole over his shoulder. That little fishing pole was bent at the end, but it was strong as iron. Pap had had it ever since I could remember, and I was twelve years old then.
Just before we got to the crossroad I heard that little grunt again. Then about a half a minute later two more little grunts. Then a little while after that, the giggling. Well, that’ll be another hour or so, I told myself. And when we came to the crossroad, just like I was thinking we would do, we turned toward her house. Pap was walking in front and me right behind him.
After going a little piece, I could see the trees around Miss Molly Bee’s fence. They were tall pecan and oak trees, and they hid the yard and the house from us. You didn’t see the house at all till you got right on it.
Miss Molly Bee was sitting out on the gallery fanning. She was always sitting out on the gallery fanning. She was a big Creole lady with a pile of jet-black hair. She smiled as soon as she seen us coming in the yard.
“Thought you might not drop by today,” she said.
Pap gave her a little smile, and she smiled back at Pap. People said she had many boyfriends, but I think she liked Pap the most. When she looked at Pap, look like there wasn’t nobody else in the world.
“Hello, Bobby,” she said.
“Miss Molly Bee,” I said.
I laid the string of fish on the bottom step, and sat on the one just above it. Pap sat on the gallery and leaned back against the post. He never sat in a chair no matter where he went. At home Mom would try to get him to sit in a chair when they was out on the gallery together, but Pap never would. He said he believed it was the Indian in him made him sit on the floor all the time. But, anyhow, for courtesy sake, Miss Molly Bee said: “Get you a chair, Toddy?” Pap’s name was Robert, same as mine, but Miss Molly Bee called him Toddy. She had made up that little name herself.
“Good right here,” Pap said. “Ooooo, it’s been hot.”
“Sure has,” Miss Molly Bee said. “Got some lemonade inside. Get you a glassful?”
“That would be fine,” Pap said. Pap was always sporty when he talked to Miss Molly Bee.
“Little Bobby?” Miss Molly Bee said.
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” I said.
So she went in and got it, and we sat there drinking and keeping very quiet. Then after a little while, I could feel it was a little too quiet. I could feel it was about time for one of them to grunt. I raised the glass and took a swallow. Nothing. I lowered the glass. Still nothing. Nothing but quiet. What the heck’s going on? I said to myself.
I was just about ready to raise the glass for the last few drops when I heard Miss Molly Bee go, “Un-hunh.” Pap waited about a minute and then he went like that, too, “Un-hunh.” Then it was quiet a while and then Miss Molly Bee went like that again—twice. Then Pap went like that twice. Then it was quiet a minute, and then Miss Molly Bee started giggling very softly. And just when she was getting ready to quit, Pap started his giggling.
“Hen still laying up the road?” Pap asked Miss Molly Bee.
And I said to myself, You might as well stand up right now and head on up there, ’cause that’s where you’ll be going in about two minutes from now.
“Still laying up there,” Miss Molly Bee said. “Won’t break habit for nothing.”
“Picked your eggs today?” Pap asked.
“Not yet,” Miss Molly Bee said.
It was quiet a minute. Then Pap said, “Bobby, why ’on’t you up there and get Miss Molly Bee them eggs?”
“Maybe it’s too hot, Toddy,” Miss Molly Bee said.
“No, ma’am. It’s not too hot,” I said.
I stood up to leave. But before I went down the steps, I looked at Pap. One day, I said to myself. One day—just watch. I’m getting sick and tired of hunting these eggs every time I go fishing. I left them sitting there on the gallery. But I knowed five minutes later they was going to be back in the kitchen, and Miss Molly Bee was going to have her foot in that basin of water.
The first time I went over there with Pap, they started that giggling just like they did today. That was about a year ago. One of them giggle a little while, then the other one giggle a little while. Then one, then the other. Then they started talking about that hen nest way up the road. I said I would go and get the eggs if Miss Molly Bee didn’t mind. She said No, she would be obliged if I did, and she told Pap to point out the spot for me. Pap stood up to point it out, and he told me while I was up there I could break me a piece of cane or pick me some pecans since it wasn’t necessary for me to hurry right back. I didn’t know what he was getting to, so I tore up there and got the eggs and tore right back. They wasn’t on the gallery where I’d left ’em, but as I started ’round the house I could hear Miss Molly Bee giggling. I didn’t know what she was giggling about, and since I was a little boy, it sure wasn’t any of my business. So instead of going back there where they was, I went back to the front and sat on the steps. As I went by the door I could see her sitting in a chair way back in the kitchen, and I could see she had her foot in a washbasin. I couldn’t see Pap at all, but I figured that since Miss Molly Bee was giggling like that, Pap must to have been somewhere around. I sat on the step waiting for them. Then when they was through doing what they was doing back there, both of ’em came to the front. I gave Miss Molly Bee the egg, and then me and Pap left.
The next time we went fishing, Pap started that giggling at the bayou again. Then a few minutes later, me and him was leaving. When we came up to the crossroad we turned left. Then the same old thing all over. Miss Molly Bee asked us if we wanted some lemonade and we said yes. Then after we had been there a little while, her and Pap started that giggling. Giggle little while, then the hen nest came up. Hen nest came up, then I had to go looking for eggs.
“Get yourself a piece of cane while you up there,” Pap said. “You can sit under that pecan tree and eat it. Good shade up there.”
But the second day I didn’t want any cane either. And when I got back to the house, both of ’em was back in the kitchen again. I could hear Miss Molly Bee giggling a mile.
The third time I said I was going to find out more about all this giggling. So instead of coming back through the front, I came back the other way. Miss Molly Bee had plenty weeds back there in her yard, so I could hide myself pretty good. I had just got myself settled when they came back in the kitchen. Pap had the basin of water, and Miss Molly Bee had the chair. Pap set the basin on the floor, and Miss Molly Bee sat in her chair and stuck her foot in it. Then Pap went to work. He rolled up both his sleeves and started washing Miss Molly Bee’s foot. At first he was washing it very slowly, and at first Miss Molly Bee was giggling just a little bit. Then as Pap started working a little higher, round the ankle, Miss Molly Bee started laughing a little more. And when he got around the calf of Miss Molly Bee’s leg, and started playing with her calf, and making it shake and all that, Miss Molly Bee really started laughing. For a second there I thought she was going to take with a fit she was laughing so much. But Pap stopped just in time, and a minute later Miss Molly Bee had stopped laughing, too. . . . But that was only one leg. Pap had to do the same thing on the other one. So again, Miss Molly Bee started giggling real slowly. Then when Pap really started shaking her calf, she started laughing harder and harder. But one thing about Pap, he knew when to stop. He knew how to keep Miss Molly Bee from laughing too much where she might hurt herself.
So after he had washed both of her legs, she gave him the towel, and he dried ’em for her. Then she stuck her leg way out and worked her toes. Then I saw Pap take her leg in both arms, like you take a chunk of wood, and kiss Miss Molly Bee right on the knee. Well, look at Pap, will you, I said to myself. Then Miss Molly Bee stuck out her other leg and worked her toes on that foot, and Pap took it and kissed that knee. After this was all done with, Pap pitched the water out in the yard. I thought I’d better get to the front before they went back, and just made it in time.
This went on and on like this, and after three or four times I got tired of watching ’em. I kept telling myself it wasn’t fair to Mom for Pap to be acting like this behind her back.
But I wasn’t the kind of person to tell. I had to get somebody else to do it for me. For the past couple of months I had been trying to think of a way to let Mom know without Pap thinking I was the one who told her. And that day while I was up there getting that egg, it all came to me.
When I got back, I gave Miss Molly Bee the egg, and me and Pap told her good night and left for the quarters. We got home just before sundown. Mom cleaned the fishes and fried ’em, and we sat at the table, the three of us, and ate in silence. Nobody ever talked at Mom’s table; she didn’t go for that. I looked over at Mom. I loved her very much. I loved Pap, too. I loved both of ’em. And since I was their only little grandchild, I thought it was my duty to see that nothing ever separated ’em. Death, maybe, but that was all.
So the next day when I finished all my work, I went down the quarters and told Lucius what I wanted him to do.
“Listen, Lucius,” I said. “This is what. You come up home ’round two o’clock. By then Mom ought to be through with her work and ought to be on the gallery cooling off. Somebody’ll probably be out there with her—Aunt Lou, Miss Olive, or somebody. But you come up there ’round two. And we’ll play little bit, and then sit on the steps. Now we’ll wait till they’re quiet. Remember, wait till they’re quiet. Then I want you to say this, and I want you to say it plain. I want you to say, ‘Didn’t I see you and Pap going toward Miss Molly Bee yesterday?’ That’s all I want you to say. ‘Didn’t I see you and Pap going toward Miss Molly Bee yesterday?’ I’ll take it from there. Now, can you remember that, Lucius?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Say it.”
“Didn’t I see y’all going—”
“I didn’t say ‘Y’all,’ Lucius. I said, ‘You and Pap.’ Remember ‘Pap.’ You got to say ‘Pap.’ Now say it.”
“Didn’t I see you and Pap at Miss Molly Bee—”
“I didn’t say ‘at’ neither, Lucius. I said, ‘going.’ ‘Going’ make her wonder little bit. Now say it.”
“Didn’t I see you and Pap going toward Miss Molly Bee yesterday?”
“That’s right. Say it again.”
Lucius said it again, and I made him say it about ten more times. After a while he had it down so pat and could say it so fast, even I couldn’t keep up with him. So I slowed him up till he got it at just the right speed. I even told him how to hold his head and how to look at me when he was saying it. You had to really work with Lucius to make him get things the right way.
Sure enough, ’round two he came up there; and sure enough, Mom was sitting out on the gallery fanning and talking to Miss Olive Jarreau. Me and Lucius made a ring on the ground and shot marbles all the time Mom and Miss Olive was talking. Then when I seen the conversation began to slow up, I told Lucius let’s sit on the steps. We sat there—I don’t know how long—ten, fifteen minutes— and then I looked at Lucius. Old Lucius was waiting.
“Hey?” he said. “Didn’t I see you and Pap going toward Miss Molly Bee yesterday?”
“Me and Pap?” I said.
Lucius looked at me, and didn’t know what to say. We hadn’t rehearsed nothing else, you see.
“Oh, yeah, it was you and Pap,” he said. “You and Pap. You and Pap. Uh-huh. You and Pap.”
“I doubt it,” I said. “We went fishing yesterday. There ain’t no fishing pond by Miss Molly Bee’s house.”
“I’m sure it was you and Pap,” Lucius said. “You and Pap.”
I looked at Lucius to make him shut up, ’cause I knowed Mom had heard and Miss Olive Jarreau had heard, too. It was quiet after that—what you call a dead silence. I had my back toward ’em, but I could feel Mom looking at me. Miss Olive was probably looking down the quarters, since that’s the way her chair was faced. Then after a while I could feel Mom looking out at the tree in front of the house. And Miss Olive looked somewhere else, too. And then Mom looked at me again, ’cause I could feel her eyes on the back of my neck. And Miss Olive must have looked somewhere else, ’cause I could feel that, too. Then a little later she said she had to be going. And soon after she said it, Lucius said it, too. I reckoned Lucius thought I was going to get a whipping, and he didn’t want to be anywhere ’round.
But nothing like that happened. Mom didn’t even say a word. She just kept looking at me. I had my back toward her, but I could feel her eyes. You can feel it when people are looking at you. Especially old people.
Pap showed up not too long after Miss Olive and Lucius had gone home. He took a seat on the gallery and leaned back against the post.
“Ooooo, it’s hot,” he said.
“It sure is,” Mom said, like nothing had happened.
“Think I’ll go fishing tomorrow,” Pap said. “Would have gone today, but it was too hot.”
“They biting out in the river right smartly,” Mom said.
“They biting better back in the field,” Pap said.
“Talking to Aunt Lou this morning,” Mom said. “Told me she caught a big mess few days back.”
“They still biting better back in the field,” Pap said. “Know a spot where they really biting back there.”
“Well, go where you want,” Mom said.
“They almost jumping out the bayou back in the field,” Pap said.
Now I could feel that Mom was looking at Pap. Pap didn’t know that Mom knowed, so he was looking over in the garden, probably thinking about Miss Molly Bee. And Mom, who knowed, probably also knowed what he was thinking about, and so she just sat there watching him.