Thank You, Ma'am
by Langston Hughes
(Re-Formatted for FF.Net by Cookirini)
She was a large woman with a large purse that had everything in it but a hammer
and nails. It had a long strap, and she carried it slung across her shoulder. I
was about eleven o'clock at night,
dark, and she was walking alone, when a boy ran up behind her and tried to
snatch her purse. The strap broke with the sudden single tug the boy gave it
from behind. But the boy's weight and the weight of the purse combined caused
him to lose his balance.
Instead of taking off full blast s he had hoped, the boy
fell on his back on the sidewalk and his legs flew up. The large woman simply
turned around and kicked him right square in his blue-jeaned sitter. Then she reached down, picked the boy up by
his shirt front, and shook him until his teeth rattled.
After that the woman said, "Pick up my pocketbook, boy,
and give it here."
She still held him tightly. But she bent down enough to permit him to stoop and
pick up her purse. Then she said, "Now ain't you
ashamed of yourself?"
Firmly gripped by his shirt front, the boy said, "Yes'm."
The woman said, "What did you want to do it for?"
The boy said, "I didn't aim to."
She said, "You a lie!"
By that time two or three people passed, stopped, turned to
look, and some stood watching.
"If I turn you loose, will you run?" asked the
woman.
"Yes'm," said the boy.
"Then I won't turn you loose," said the woman. She did not release
him.
"Lady, I'm sorry," whispered the boy.
"Um-hum! Your face is dirty. I got a great mind
to wash your face for you. Ain't you got nobody home
to tell you to wash your face?"
"No'm," said the boy.
"Then it will get washed this evening," said the large woman,
starting up the street, dragging the frightened boy behind her.
He looked as if he were fourteen or fifteen, frail and
willow-wild, in tennis shoes and blue-jeans.
The woman said, "You ought to be my son. I would teach
you right from wrong. Least I can do right now is to wash your face. Are you
hungry?"
"No'm," said the being-dragged-boy. "I
just want you to turn me loose."
"Was I bothering you when I turned the corner?" asked the woman.
"No'm."
"But you put yourself in contact with me," said the woman. "If
you think that that contact is not going to last awhile, you got another
thought coming. When I get through with you, sir, you are going to remember
Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones.'
Sweat popped out on the boy's face and he began to struggle.
Mrs. Jones stopped, jerked him around in front of her, put a half nelson about
his neck, and continued to drag him up the street. When she got to her door,
she dragged the boy inside, down a hall. She switched on the light and left the
door open. The boy could hear other roomers laughing and talking in the large
house. Some of their doors were open, too, so he knew he and the woman were not
alone. The woman still had him by the neck in the middle of her room.
She said, "What is your name?
"Roger," answered the boy.
"Then, Roger, you go to that sink and wash your face," said the
woman, whereupon she turned him loose--at last. Roger looked at the
door--looked at the woman--looked at the door--and went to the sink.
"Let the water run until it gets warm," she said. ""Here's
a clean towel."
"You gonna take me to jail?" asked the boy,
bending over the sink.
"Not with that face, I would not take you nowhere,"
said the woman. "Here I am trying to get home to cook me a bite to eat,
and you snatch my pocket book! Maybe you ain't been
to your supper either, late as it be. Have you?"
"There's nobody home at my house," said the boy.
"Then we'll eat," said the woman. "I believe you're hungry--or
been hungry--to try to snatch my pocketbook!"
"I want a pair of blue suede shoes," said the boy.
"Well you didn't have to snatch my pocketbook to get some suede
shoes," said Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones. "You could of asked me."
"M'am?"
The water dripping from his face, the boy looked at her.
There was a long pause. A very long pause. After he
had dried his face, and not knowing what else to do, dried
it again, the boy turned around, wondering what next. The door was open. HE
could make a dash for it down the hall. He could run, run, run, run!
The woman was sitting on the daybed. After a while she said,
"I were young once and I wanted things I could not get."
There was another long pause. The boy's mouth opened Then he frowned, not knowing he frowned.
The woman said, "Um-hum! You thought I was going to say
but, didn't you? You thought I was going to say, but I didn't snatch people's
pocketbooks. Well, I wasn't going to say that." Pause. Silence.
"I have done things, too, which I would not tell you, soon--neither tell
God, if He didn't already know. Everybody's got something in common. So you set
down while I fix us something to eat. You might run that comb through your hair
so you will look presentable."
In another corner of the room behind a screen was a gas plate and an icebox. Mrs. Jones got up and went behind the screen. The woman did not watch the boy to see if he was going to run now, nor did she watch her purse, which she left behind her on the daybed.
But the boy took care to sit on the far side of the room,
away from the purse, where he thought she could easily see him out of the
corner of her eye if she wanted to. He did not trust the woman not to trust
him. And he did not want to be mistrusted now.
"Do you need somebody to go to the store," asked
the boy, "Maybe to get some milk or something?"
"Don't believe I do," said the woman, "unless you just want
sweet milk yourself. I was going to make cocoa out of this canned milk I got
here."
"That will be fine," said the boy.
She heated some lima beans and ham she had in the icebox,
made the cocoa, and set the table. The woman did not ask the boy anything about
where he lived, or his folks, or anything else that would embarrass him.
Instead, as they ate, she told him about here job in a hotel beauty shop that
stayed open late, what the work was like, and how all kinds of women came in
and out, blonds, redheads, and Spanish. Then she cut him a half of her ten-cent
cake.
"Eat some more, son," she said.
When they were finished eating, she got up and said,
"Now here, take this ten dollars and buy yourself some blue suede shoes.
And next time, do not make the mistake of latching onto my pocketbook nor
nobody else's--because shoes got by devilish ways will burn your feet. I got to
get my rest now. But from here on in, son, I hope you will behave
yourself."
She led him down the hall to the front door and opened it.
"Good night! Behave yourself, boy!" she
said, looking out into the street as he went down the steps.
The boy wanted to say something other than, "Thank you, M'am," to Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones, but although his lips moved, he couldn't even say that as he turned at the foot of the barren stoop and looked up at the large woman in the door. Then she shut the door.
