“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