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 the corner and hands it to me so I can light it for him. I hold it to the fire till it’s lit, and I hand it back to Uncle Al. Uncle Al turns the pipe upside down in his mouth and holds the fire to it. When the pipe’s good and lit, Uncle Al gives me the little stick and I throw it back in the fire.
“Y’all ate anything?” Gran’mon asks.
“Sonny ate,” Mama says. “I’m not hungry.”
“I reckon you go’n start looking for work now?” Gran’mon says.
“There’s plenty cane to cut,” Mama says. “I’ll get me a cane knife and go out tomorrow morning.”
“Out in all that cold?” Gran’mon says.
“They got plenty women cutting cane,” Mama says. “I don’t mind. I done it before.”
“You used to be such a pretty little thing, Amy,” Gran’mon says. “Long silky curls. Prettiest little face on this whole plantation. You could’ve married somebody worth something. But, no, you had to go throw yourself away to that yellow nigger who don’t care for nobody, ’cluding himself.”
“I loved Eddie,” Mama says.
“Poot,” Gran’mon says.
“He wasn’t like this when we married,” Mama says.
“Every nigger from Bayonne like this now, then, and forever,” Gran’mon says.
“Not then,” Mama says. “He was the sweetest person—”
“And you fell for him?” Gran’mon says.
“He changed after he got that car,” Mama says. “He changed overnight.”
“Well, you learned your lesson,” Gran’mon says. “We all get teached something no matter how old we get. ‘Live and learn,’what they say.”
“Eddie’s all right,” Uncle Al says. “He—”
“You keep out of this, Albert,” Gran’mon says. “It don’t concern you.”
Uncle Al don’t say no more, and I can feel his hand on my shoulder. I like Uncle Al because he’s good, and he never talk bad about Daddy. But Gran’mon’s always talking bad about Daddy.
“Freddie’s still there,” Gran’mon says.
“Mama, please,”
