The Land(33)

“Too bad our daddy didn’t have Willie Thomas bring out a jar while he was whipping me. Willie could have put some on me same time he was rubbing down Appaloosa with it.”

“Yeah,” said Cassie with a grin. “Our daddy should’ve thought of that.”

I managed another smile myself, then said, “Cassie, you know why our daddy whipped me, don’t you?”

“I heard.”

“He said it was for my own good.”

“Could be he was right.”

“How can you say that? Him whipping me like that?”

“Time had come,” said Cassie matter-of-factly. “Time had come for you to get an understanding of who you are. Time came for me when I first went to Atlanta, like I told you.”

“That still doesn’t excuse what he done. Him or Robert either, and I won’t forget.”

“Well, that’s good.” I heard the door creak behind us. I turned and saw my mama standing in the doorway. “That’s good you won’t forget it.”

I got up slowly to face her.

“So you decided to come home, huh?”

“Sorry I worried you.”

My mama looked at me long, studying me. “Come on in this house and let me get some salve on your back.” She then turned to go back inside.

“That’s all you going to say about what happened?” I demanded. “Don’t you feel anything about what he did?”

My mama turned to face me again, and her look, followed by her words, I’ll never forget. “Yes, Paul, I got something to say about what happened. Fact, I got plenty to say. I’m glad your daddy done it. High time he did too. I been telling you and telling you those brothers of yours are white and you ain’t. I been telling you that the day was gonna come when things wouldn’t be the same between you and them. I been telling you to watch out for yourself and get yourself something of your own. I been telling you, but you ain’t been listening. You wanted to believe in them. I been telling you and telling you, and you been resenting me for it, been resenting me for everything that had to do with your making. I been telling you and telling you. Now the day’s come. Merry Christmas.”

My mama glared at me, and I could feel her anger. But I knew that anger wasn’t all aimed at me. She had tried to protect me, and it was true—I hadn’t wanted to listen. She had tried to protect me; now she was suffering right along with me. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. I stared at her, and I felt the tears coming for the first time. My mama’s eyes softened as she stood there looking at me, and when she spoke again, her voice had softened too. “Come on in this house, Paul-Edward,” she said as she held the door open for me. “Come on, and let me see to your back.”





I slept most of Christmas morning, and so did Cassie. I woke to the sounds of my mama finishing up her Christmas dinner, to the smells of roasted ham and a chicken baking, and to the soft talk of Howard’s voice and his genial laughter as he kept my mama company. I was miserably sore and aching, but I rose to join them, and later when Cassie was up, my mama put aside her cooking, and we all joined hands and each of us said our Christmas prayers of thanksgiving. Afterward, we gave our presents to one another. My mama gave me my daddy’s watch from the box. “Your daddy told me he gave you his ring. You got his ring now,” she said, “you might as well have his watch.” She kissed me, then hugged me tenderly and squeezed my hand that held the watch. I put the watch away with the ring.

Now, most Christmases Cassie and I spent part of the day up at my daddy’s house, but not this Christmas. This day Cassie and I, along with Howard, stayed at my mama’s house. My mama, though, went to my daddy’s house to finish cooking dinner up there and serve it to my daddy and my brothers and the Waverlys. She said it was her job. Cassie wanted to go with her to help, but my mama wouldn’t let her. “It’s my job,” she said, “not yours. You don’t ever have to work in your daddy’s house again.” Later on, when my mama returned, we had our own Christmas dinner, Cassie and Howard, our mama, and me. I figured this was all the family I had now.

But George and Hammond wouldn’t let me be. The next day after the Waverlys were gone, they came down to my mama’s house to talk to me. “It’s a shame things got so messed up,” said Hammond.

“Bound to happen,” surmised George. “Tell me something, Paul. If you had to hit a white boy, why didn’t you use the good sense to just hit Robert and not the Waverlys? Maybe our daddy wouldn’t’ve whipped you so bad.”