A Long Day in November

by Ernest J. Gaines

  “Eddie,” Miss Hebert says.

  I don’t know my lesson. I don’t know my lesson. I don’t know my lesson. I feel warm. I’m wet. I hear the wee-wee dripping on the floor. I’m crying. I’m crying because I wee-wee on myself. My clothes’s wet. Lucy and them go’n laugh at me. Billy Joe Martin and them go’n tease me. I don’t know my lesson. I don’t know my lesson. I don’t know my lesson.

  “Oh, Eddie, look what you’ve done,” I think I hear Miss Hebert saying. I don’t know if she’s saying this, but I think I hear her say it. My eyes’s shut and I’m crying. I don’t want look at none of them, because I know they laughing at me.

  “It’s running under that bench there now,” Billy Joe Martin says. “Look out for your feet back there, it’s moving fast.”

  “William Joseph,” Miss Hebert says. “Go over there and stand in that corner. Turn your face to the wall and stay there until I tell you to move.”

  I hear Billy Joe Martin leaving the bench, and then it’s quiet. But I don’t open my eyes.

  “Eddie,” Miss Hebert says, “go stand by the heater.”

  I don’t move because I’ll see them, and I don’t want see them.

  “Eddie?” Miss Hebert says.

  But I don’t answer her, and I don’t move.

  “Bill?” Miss Hebert says.

  I hear Bill coming up to the front and then I feel him taking me by the hand and leading me away. I walk with my eyes shut. Me and Bill stop at the heater, because I can feel the fire. Then Bill takes my book and leaves me standing there.

  “Juanita,” Miss Hebert says, “get a mop, will you please.”

  I hear Juanita going to the back, and then I hear her coming back to the front. The fire pops in the heater, but I don’t open my eyes. Nobody’s saying anything, but I know they all watching me.

  When Juanita gets through mopping up the wee-wee, she carries the mop back to the closet, and I hear Miss Hebert going on with the lesson. When she gets through with the first graders, she calls the second graders up there.

  Bill comes up to the heater and puts another piece of wood in the fire.

  “Want turn around?” he asks me.

  I don’t answer him, but I got my eyes open now, and I’m looking down at the floor. Bill turns me round so I can dry the back of my pants. He pats me on the shoulder and goes back to his seat.

  After Miss Hebert gets through with the second graders, she tells the children they can go out for recess. I can hear them getting their coats and hats. When they all leave, I raise my head. I still see Bill and Juanita and Veta sitting there. Bill smiles at me, but I don’t smile back. My clothes’s dry now, and I feel better. I know the rest of the children go’n tease me, though.

  “Bill, why don’t you and the rest of the seventh graders put your arithmetic problems on the board,” Miss Hebert says. “We’ll look at them after recess.”

  Bill and them stand up, and I watch them go to the blackboard in the back.

  “Eddie?” Miss Hebert says.

  I turn and I see her sitting behind her desk. And I see Billy Joe Martin standing in the corner with his face to the wall.

  “Come up to the front,” Miss Hebert says.

  I go up there looking down at the floor, because I know she go’n whip me now.

  “William Joseph, you may leave,” Miss Hebert says.

  Billy Joe Martin runs over and gets his coat, and then he runs outside to shoot marbles. I stand in front of Miss Hebert’s desk with my head down.

  “Look up,” she says.

  I raise my head and look at Miss Hebert. She’s smiling, and she don’t look mad.

  “Now,” she says. “Did you study your lesson last night?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say.

  “I want the truth now,” she says. “Did you?”

  It’s a sin to story in the churchhouse, but I’m scared Miss Hebert go’n whip me.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say.

  “Did you study it this morning?” she asks.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say.

  “Then why didn’t you know it?” she asks.

  I feel a big knot coming up in my throat and I feel like I’m go’n cry again. I’m scared Miss Hebert go’n whip me, that’s why I story to her.

  “You didn’t study your lesson, did you?” she says.

  I shake my head. “No, ma’am.”

  “You didn’t study it last night either, did you?”

  “No, ma’am,” I say. “Mama didn’t have time to help me. Daddy wasn’t home. Mama didn’t have time to help me.”

  “Where is your father?” Miss Hebert asks.

  “Cutting cane.”

  “Here on this place?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say.

  Miss Hebert looks at me, and then she gets out a pencil and starts writing on a piece of paper. I look at her writing and I look at the clock and the strap. I can hear the clock. I can hear Billy Joe Martin and them shooting marbles outside. I can hear Lucy and them jumping rope, and some more children playing “Patty-cake.”

  “I want you to give this to your mother or your father when you get home,” Miss Hebert says. “This is only a little note saying I would like to see them sometime when they aren’t too busy.”

  “We don’t live home no more,” I say.

  “Oh?” Miss Hebert says. “Did you move?”

  “Me and Mama,” I say. “But Daddy didn’t.”

  Miss Hebert looks at me, and then she writes some more on the note. She puts her pencil down and folds the note up.

  “Be sure to give this to your mother,” she says. “Put it in your pocket and don’t lose it.”

  I take the note from Miss Hebert, but I don’t leave the desk.

  “Do you want to go outside?” she asks.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You may leave,” she says.

  I go over and get my coat and cap, and then I go out in the yard. I see Billy Joe Martin and Charles and them shooting marbles over by the gate. I don’t go over there because they’ll tease me. I go ’side the schoolhouse and look at Lucy and them jumping rope. Lucy ain’t jumping right now.

  “Hi, Lucy,” I say.

  Lucy looks over at Shirley and they laugh. They look at my pants and laugh.

  “You want a piece of potato?” I ask Lucy.

  “No,” Lucy says. “And you not my boyfriend no more, either.”

  I look at Lucy and I go stand ’side the wall in the sun. I peel my potato and eat it. And look like soon’s I get through, Miss Hebert comes to the front and says recess is over.

  We go back inside, and I go to the back and take off my coat and cap. Bill comes back there and hang the things up for us. I go over to Miss Hebert’s desk and Miss Hebert gives me my book. I go back to my seat and sit down ’side Lucy.

  “Hi, Lucy,” I say.

  Lucy looks at Shirley and Shirley puts her hand over her mouth and laughs. I feel like getting up from there and socking Shirley in the mouth, but I know Miss Hebert’ll whip me because I got no business socking people after I done wee-wee on myself. I open my book and look at my lesson so I don’t have to look at none of them.

  3

  It’s almost dinner time, and when I get home, I ain’t coming back here either, now. I’m go’n stay there. I’m go’n stay right there and sit by the fire. Lucy and them don’t want play with me, and I ain’t coming back up here. Miss Hebert go’n touch that little bell in a little while. She getting ready to touch it right now.

  Soon’s Miss Hebert touches the bell, all the children run go get their hats and coats. I unhook my coat and drop it on the bench till I put my cap on.

  Then I put my coat on, and I get my book and leave.

  I see Bill and Juanita going out the schoolyard, and I run and catch up with them. Time I get there, I hear Billy Joe Martin and them coming up behind us.

  “Look at that baby,” Billy Joe Martin says.

  “Piss on himself,” Ju-Ju says.

  “Y’all
leave him alone,” Bill says.

  “Baby, baby, piss on himself,” Billy Joe Martin sings.

  “What did I say now?” Bill says.

  “Piss on himself,” Billy Joe Martin says.

  “Wait,” Bill says. “Let me take off my belt.”

  “Good-bye, piss pot,” Billy Joe Martin says. Him and Ju-Ju run down the road. They spank their hind parts with their hands and run like horses.

  “They just bad,” Juanita says.

  “Don’t pay them no mind,” Bill says. “They’ll leave you alone.”

  We go on down the quarter and Bill and Juanita hold hands. I go to Gran’mon’s gate and open it. I look at Bill and Juanita going down the quarter. They walking close together, and Juanita done put her head on Bill’s shoulder. I like to see Bill and Juanita like that. It makes me feel good. But I go in the yard and I don’t feel good any more. I know old Gran’mon go’n start her fussing. Lord in Heaven knows I get tired of all this fussing, day and night. Spot runs down the walk to meet me. I put my hand on his head and me and him go back to the gallery. I make him stay on the gallery, because Gran’mon don’t want him inside. I pull the door open and I see Gran’mon and Uncle Al sitting by the fire. I look for my mama, but I don’t see her.

  “Where Mama?” I ask Uncle Al.

  “In the kitchen,” Gran’mon says. “But she talking to somebody.”

  I go back to the kitchen.

  “Come back here,” Gran’mon says.

  “I want see my mama,” I say.

  “You’ll see her when she come out,” Gran’mon says.

  “I want see my mama now,” I say.

  “Don’t you hear me talking to you, boy?” Gran’mon hollers.

  “What’s the matter?” Mama asks. Mama comes out of the kitchen and Mr. Freddie Jackson comes out of there, too. I hate Mr. Freddie Jackson. I never did like him. He always want to be round my mama.

  “That boy don’t listen to nobody,” Gran’mon says.

  “Hi, Sonny,” Mr. Freddie Jackson says.

  I look at him standing there, but I don’t speak to him. I take the note out of my pocket and hand it to my mama.

  “What’s this?” Mama says.

  “Miss Hebert sent it.”

  Mama unfolds the note and take it to the fireplace to read it. I can see her mouth working. When she gets through reading, she folds the note up again.

  “She want see me or Eddie sometime when we free,” Mama says. “Sonny been doing pretty bad in his class.”

  “I can just see that nigger husband of yours in a schoolhouse,” Gran’mon says. “I doubt if he ever went to one.”

  “Mama, please,” Mama says.

  Mama helps me off with my coat and I go to the fireplace and stand ’side Uncle Al. Uncle Al pulls me between his legs and he holds my hand out to the fire.

  “Well?” I hear Gran’mon saying.

  “You know how I feel ’bout her,” Mr. Freddie Jackson says. “My house opened to her and Sonny any time she want come there.”

  “Well?” Gran’mon says.

  “Mama, I’m still married to Eddie,” Mama says.

  “You mean you still love that yellow thing,” Gran’mon says. “That’s what you mean, ain’t it?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Mama says. “What would people say, out one house and in another one the same day?”

  “Who care what people say?” Gran’mon says. “Let people say what they big enough to say. You looking out for yourself, not what people say.”

  “You understand, don’t you, Freddie?” Mama says.

  “I think I do,” he says. “But like I say, Amy, any time—you know that.”

  “And there ain’t no time like right now,” Gran’mon says. “You can take that bundle of clothes down there for her.”

  “Let her make up her own mind, Rachel,” Uncle Al says. “She can make up her own mind.”

  “If you know what’s good for you you better keep out of this,” Gran’mon says. “She my daughter and if she ain’t got sense enough to look out for herself, I have. What you want to do, go out in that field cutting cane in the morning?”

  “I don’t mind it,” Mama says.

  “You done forgot how hard cutting cane is?” Gran’mon says. “You must be done forgot.”

  “I ain’t forgot,” Mama says. “But if the other women can do it, I suppose I can do it, too.”

  “Now you talking back,” Gran’mon says.

  “I’m not talking back, Mama,” Mama says. “I just feel it ain’t right to leave one house and go to another house the same day. That ain’t right in nobody’s book.”

  “Maybe she’s right, Mrs. Rachel,” Mr. Freddie Jackson says.

  “Trouble with her, she still in love with that yellow thing,” Gran’mon says. “That’s your trouble. You ain’t satisfied ’less he got you doing all the work while he rip and run up and down the road with his other nigger friends. No, you ain’t satisfied.”

  Gran’mon goes back in the kitchen fussing. After she leaves the fire, everything gets quiet. Everything stays quiet a minute, and then Gran’mon starts singing back in the kitchen.

  “Why did you bring your book home?” Mama says.

  “Miss Hebert say I can stay home if I want,” I say. “We had us lesson already.”

  “You sure she said that?” Mama says.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m go’n ask her, you know.”

  “She said it,” I say.

  Mama don’t say no more, but I know she still looking at me, but I don’t look at her. Then Spot starts barking outside and everybody look that way. But nobody don’t move. Spot keeps on barking, and I go to the door to see what he’s barking at. I see Daddy coming up the walk. I pull the door and go back to the fireplace.

  “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’ undertak
er 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.”