A Long Day in November

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Author’s Note

  Other Titles You Will Enjoy From Lizzie Skurnick Books

  Copyright Page

  This book is dedicated to all those children who have had One Long Day in their lives.

  1

  Somebody is shaking me, but I don’t want get up now because I’m tired and I’m sleepy and I don’t want get up now. It’s warm under the cover here, but it’s cold up there and I don’t want get up now.

  “Sonny?” I hear.

  But I don’t want get up, because it’s cold up there. The cover is over my head and I’m under the sheet and the blanket and the quilt. It’s warm under here and it’s dark, because my eyes’s shut. I keep my eyes shut because I don’t want get up.

  “Sonny?” I hear.

  I don’t know who’s calling me, but it must be Mama because I’m home. I don’t know who it is because I’m still asleep, but it must be Mama. She’s shaking me by the foot. She’s holding my ankle through the cover.

  “Wake up, honey,” she says.

  But I don’t want get up because it’s cold up there and I don’t want get cold. I try to go back to sleep, but she shakes my foot again.

  “Hummm?” I say.

  “Wake up, honey,” I hear.

  “Hummm?” I say.

  “I want you get up and wee-wee,” she says.

  “I don’t want wee-wee, Mama,” I say.

  “Come on,” she says, shaking me. “Come on. Get up for Mama.”

  “It’s cold up there,” I say.

  “Come on,” she says. “Mama won’t let her baby get cold.”

  I pull the sheet and blanket from under my head and push them back over my shoulder. I feel the cold and I try to cover up again, but Mama grabs the cover before I get it over me. Mama is standing ’side the bed and she’s looking down at me, smiling.

  The room is dark. The lamp’s on the mantelpiece, but it’s kind of low. I see Mama’s shadow on the wall over by Gran’mon’s picture.

  “I’m cold, Mama,” I say.

  “Mama go’n wrap his little coat round her baby,” she says.

  She goes over and get it off the chair where all my clothes’s at, and I sit up in the bed. Mama brings the coat and put it on me, and she fastens some of the buttons.

  “Now,” she says. “See? You warm.”

  I gap’ and look at Mama. She hugs me real hard and rubs her face against my face. My mama’s face is warm and soft, and it feels good.

  “I want my socks on,” I say. “My feet go’n get cold on the floor.”

  Mama leans over and get my shoes from under the bed. She takes out my socks and slip them on my feet. I gap’ and look at Mama pulling my socks up.

  “Now,” she says.

  I get up, but I can still feel that cold floor. I get on my knees and look under the bed for my pot.

  “See it?” Mama says.

  “Hanh?”

  “See it under there?”

  “Hanh?”

  “I bet you didn’t bring it in,” she says. “Any time you sound like that, you done forgot it.”

  “I left it on the chicken coop,” I say.

  “Well, go to the back door,” Mama says. “Hurry up before you get cold.”

  I get off my knees and go back there, but it’s too dark and I can’t see. I come back where Mama’s sitting on my bed.

  “It’s dark back there, Mama,” I say. “I might trip over something.”

  Mama takes a deep breath and gets the lamp off the mantelpiece, and me and her go back in the kitchen. She unlatches the door, and I crack it open and the cold air comes in.

  “Hurry,” Mama says.

  “All right.”

  I can see the fence back of the house and I can see the little pecan tree over by the toilet. I can see the big pecan tree over by the other fence by Miss Viola Brown’s house. Miss Viola Brown must be sleeping because it’s late at night. I bet you nobody else in the quarter’s up now. I bet you I’m the only little boy up. They got plenty stars in the air, but I can’t see the moon. There must be ain’t no moon tonight. That grass is shining—and it must be done rained. That pecan tree’s shadow’s all over the back yard.

  I get my tee-tee and I wee-wee. I wee-wee hard, because I don’t want get cold. Mama latches the door when I get through wee-wee-ing.

  “I want some water, Mama,” I say.

  “Let it out and put it right back in, huh?” Mama says.

  She dips up some water and pours it in my cup, and I drink. I don’t drink too much at once, because the water makes my teeth cold. I let my teeth warm up, and I drink some more.

  “I got enough,” I say.

  Mama drinks the rest and then me and her go back in the front room.

  “Sonny?” she says.

  “Hanh?”

  “Tomorrow morning when you get up, me and you leaving here, hear?”

  “Where we going?” I ask.

  “We going to Gran’mon,” Mama says.

  “We leaving us house?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says.

  “Daddy leaving too?”

  “No,” she says. “Just me and you.”

  “Daddy don’t want leave?”

  “I don’t know what your daddy wants,” Mama says. “But for sure he don’t want me. We leaving, hear?”

  “Uh-huh,” I say.

  “I’m tired of it,” Mama says.

  “Hanh?”

  “You won’t understand, honey,” Mama says. “You too young still.”

  “I’m getting cold, Mama,” I say.

  “All right,” she says. She goes and put the lamp up, and comes back and sit on the bed ’side me. “Let me take your socks off,” she says.

  “I can take them off,” I say.

  Mama takes my coat off and I take my socks off. I get back in bed and Mama pulls the cover up over me. She leans over and kiss me on the jaw, and then she goes back to her bed. Mama’s bed is over by the window. My bed is by the fireplace. I hear Mama get in the bed. I hear the spring, then I don’t hear nothing because Mama’s quiet. Then I hear Mama crying.

  “Mama?” I call.

  She don’t answer me.

  “Mama?” I call her.

  “Go to sleep, baby,” she says.

  “You crying?” I ask.

  “Go to sleep,” Mama says.

  “I don’t want you to cry,” I say.

  “Mama’s not crying,” she says.

  Then I don’t hear nothing and I lay quiet, but I don’t turn over because my spring’ll make noise and I don’t want make no noise because I want hear if my mama go’n cry again. I don’t hear Mama no more and I feel warm in the bed, and I pull the cover over my head and I feel good. I don’t hear nothing no more and I feel myself going back to sleep.

  Billy Joe Martin’s got the tire and he’s rolling it in the road, and I run to the gate to look at him. I want go out in the road, but Mama don’t want me to play out there like Billy Joe Martin and the other children. . . . Lucy’s playing ’side the house. She’s jumping rope with—I don’t know who that is. I go ’side the house and play with Lucy. Lucy beats me jumping rope. The rope keeps on hitting me on the leg. But it don’t hit Lucy on the leg. Lucy jumps too high for it.... Me and Billy Joe Martin shoots marbles and I beat him shooting.... Mama’s sweeping the gallery and knocking the dust out of the broom on the side of the house. Mama keeps on knocking the broom against the wall. Must be got plenty dust in the broom.

  Somebody’s beating on the door. Mama, somebody’s beating
on the door. Somebody’s beating on the door, Mama.

  “Amy, please let me in,” I hear.

  Somebody’s beating on the door, Mama. Mama, somebody’s beating on the door.

  “Amy, honey; honey, please let me in.”

  I push the cover back and I listen. I hear Daddy beating on the door.

  “Mama?” I say. “Mama, Daddy’s knocking on the door. He want come in.”

  “Go back to sleep, Sonny,” Mama says.

  “Daddy’s out there,” I say. “He want come in.”

  “Go back to sleep, I told you,” Mama says.

  I lay back on my pillow and listen.

  “Amy,” Daddy says, “I know you woke. Open the door.”

  Mama don’t answer him.

  “Amy, honey,” Daddy says. “My sweet dumpling, let me in. It’s freezing out here.”

  Mama still won’t answer Daddy.

  “Mama?” I say.

  “Go back to sleep, Sonny,” she says.

  “Mama, Daddy want come in,” I say.

  “Let him crawl through the key hole,” Mama says.

  It gets quiet after this, and it stays quiet a little while, and then Daddy says, “Sonny?”

  “Hanh?”

  “Come open the door for your daddy.”

  “Mama go’n whip me if I get up,” I say.

  “I won’t let her whip you,” Daddy says. “Come and open the door like a good boy.”

  I push the cover back and I sit up in the bed and look over at Mama’s bed. Mama’s under the cover and she’s quiet like she’s asleep. I get on the floor and get my socks out of my shoes. I get back in the bed and slip them on, and then I go and unlatch the door for Daddy. Daddy comes in and rubs my head with his hand. His hand is hard and cold.

  “Look what I brought you and your mama,” he says.

  “What?” I ask.

  Daddy takes a paper bag out of his jumper pocket.

  “Candy?” I say.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Daddy opens the bag and I stick my hand in there and take a whole handful. Daddy wraps the bag up again and sticks it in his pocket.

  “Get back in that bed, Sonny,” Mama says.

  “I’m eating candy,” I say.

  “Get back in that bed like I told you,” Mama says.

  “Daddy’s up with me,” I say.

  “You heard me, boy?”

  “You can take your candy with you,” Daddy says. “Get back in the bed.”

  He follows me to the bed and tucks the cover under me. I lay in the bed and eat my candy. The candy is hard, and I sound just like Paul eating corn. I bet you little old Paul is some cold out there in that back yard. I hope he ain’t laying in that water like he always do. I bet you he’ll freeze in that water in all this cold. I’m sure glad I ain’t a pig. They ain’t got no mama and no daddy and no house.

  I hear the spring when Daddy gets in the bed.

  “Honey?” Daddy says.

  Mama don’t answer him.

  “Honey?” he says.

  Mama must be gone back to sleep, because she don’t answer him.

  “Honey?” Daddy says.

  “Don’t touch me,” Mama says.

  “Honey,” Daddy says. Then he starts crying. “Honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Daddy cries a good little while, and then he stops. I don’t chew on my candy while Daddy’s crying, but when he stops, I chew on another piece.

  “Go to sleep, Sonny,” he says.

  “I want eat my candy,” I say.

  “Hurry then. You got to go to school tomorrow.” I put another piece in my mouth and chew on it. “Honey?” I hear Daddy saying. “Honey, you go’n wake me up to go to work?”

  “I do hope you stop bothering me,” Mama says. “Wake me up round four thirty, hear, honey?” Daddy says. “I can cut ’bout six tons tomorrow. Maybe seven.”

  Mama don’t say nothing to Daddy, and I feel sleepy again. I finish chewing my last piece of candy and I turn on my side. I feel good because the bed is warm. But I still got my socks on.

  “Daddy?” I call.

  “Go to sleep,” Daddy says.

  “My socks still on,” I say.

  “Let them stay on tonight,” Daddy says. “Go to sleep.”

  “My feet don’t feel good in socks,” I say.

  “Please go to sleep, Sonny,” Daddy says. “I got to get up at four thirty, and it’s hitting close to two now.”

  I don’t say nothing, but I don’t like to sleep with my socks on. But I stay quiet. Daddy and Mama don’t say nothing, either, and little bit later I hear Daddy snoring. I feel drowsy myself.

  I run around the house in the mud because it done rained, and I feel the mud between my toes. The mud is soft and I like to play in it. I try to get out the mud, but I can’t get out. I’m not stuck in the mud, but I can’t get out. Lucy can’t come over and play in the mud because her mama don’t want her to catch cold.... Billy Joe Martin shows me his dime and puts it back in his pocket. Mama bought me a pretty little red coat and I show it to Lucy. But I don’t let Billy Joe Martin put his hand on it. Lucy can touch it all she wants, but I don’t let Billy Joe Martin put his hand on it.... Me and Lucy get on the horse and ride up and down the road. The horse runs fast, and me and Lucy bounce on the horse and laugh.... Mama and Daddy and Uncle Al and Gran’mon’s sitting by the fire talking. I’m outside shooting marbles, but I hear them. I don’t know what they talking about, but I hear them. I hear them. I hear them. I hear them.

  I don’t want wake up, but I’m waking up. Mama and Daddy’s talking. I want go back to sleep, but they talking too loud. I feel my foot in the sock. I don’t like socks on when I’m in the bed. I want go back to sleep, but I can’t. Mama and Daddy talking too much.

  “Honey, you let me oversleep,” Daddy says. “Look here, it’s going on seven o’clock.”

  “You ought to been thought about that last night.” Mama says.

  “Honey, please,” Daddy says. “Don’t start a fuss right off this morning.”

  “Then don’t open your mouth,” Mama says.

  “Honey, the car broke down,” Daddy says. “What I was suppose to do, it broke down on me. I just couldn’t walk away and not try to fix it.”

  Mama’s quiet.

  “Honey,” Daddy says, “don’t be mad with me. Come, give your man a good little kiss so he can get out of here.”

  “Go kiss your car,” Mama says.

  “Kiss my car?” Daddy says. “That cold car? Honey, you don’t mean that.”

  “I mean just that,” she says.

  “Honey, I been kissing you every morning since us been married,” Daddy says. “I kiss you and you kiss me—and that’s how I been making it in that world out there. How I’m go’n stop it now?”

  “That’s up to you,” Mama says.

  “Honey,” Daddy says. “This is Eddie your husband. The one you married. Remember?”

  “You married to that car,” Mama says. “Go kiss her. I’m sure she waiting. I ain’t.”

  “Honey,” Daddy says, “suppose Sonny hear you talking like that? Didn’t that preacher say we had to set a good sample for him?”

  “Then how come you don’t set a good sample for him?” Mama says. “How come you don’t come home sometime and set a good sample for him? How come you can’t leave that car alone long enough to set a good sample for him? You the one need to set a good sample. You the one. I do my best.”

  “Honey, I told you before the car broke down on me,” Daddy says. “I was coming home when it broke down. I even had to leave it out on the road. I made it here quick as I could.”

  “You can go back quick as you can, for all I care,” Mama says.

  “Honey, you don’t mean that,” Daddy says. “I know you don’t mean that. You just saying that because you mad.”

  “Just don’t touch me,” Mama says.

  “Honey, I got to get out and make some bread for us,” Daddy says.

  “Get out if you want,�
�� Mama says. “They got a jailhouse for them who don’t support their family.”

  “Honey, please don’t talk about a jail,” Daddy says. “It’s too cold. You don’t know how cold it is in a jailhouse this time of the year.”

  Mama’s quiet.

  “Honey?” Daddy says.

  “I hope you let me go back to sleep,” Mama says. “Please.”

  “Honey, don’t go back to sleep on me,” Daddy says. “Honey—”

  “I’m getting up,” Mama says. “Damn all this.”

  I hear the springs mash down on the bed boards. My head’s under the cover, but I can just see Mama pushing the cover down the bed. Then I hear her walking across the floor and going back in the kitchen.

  “Oh, Lord,” Daddy says. “Oh, Lord. The suffering a man got to go through in this world. Sonny?” he says.

  “Don’t wake that baby up,” Mama says, from the door.

  “I got to have somebody to talk to,” Daddy says. “Sonny?”

  “I told you not to wake him up,” Mama says.

  “You don’t want talk to me,” Daddy says. “I need somebody to talk to. Sonny?” he says.

  “Hanh?”

  “See what you did?” Mama says. “You woke him up, and he ain’t going back to sleep.”

  Daddy comes across the floor and sits down on the side of the bed. He looks down at me and passes his hand over my face.

  “You love your daddy, Sonny?” he says.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Please love me,” Daddy says.

  I look up at Daddy and he looks at me, and then he just falls down on me and starts crying.

  “A man needs somebody to love him,” he says.

  “Get love from what you give love,” Mama says, back in the kitchen. “You love your car. Go let it love you back.”

  Daddy shakes his face in the cover.

  “The suffering a man got to go through in this world,” he says. “Sonny, I hope you never have to go through all this.”

  Daddy lays there ’side me a long time. I can hear Mama back in the kitchen. I hear her putting some wood in the stove, and then I hear her lighting the fire. I hear her pouring water in the tea kettle, and I hear when she sets the kettle on the stove.

  Daddy raises up and wipes his eyes. He looks at me and shakes his head, then he goes and puts his overalls on.