The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman

by Ernest J. Gaines

  Now he just stood there looking at Mary Agnes like some little boy, Ethel said. She said at first she was scared to be in there, but now she felt like laughing at Tee Bob. If he was a man she would ’a’ knowed this was no place for her and she would ’a’ begged Miss LeFabre to let her be excused. But Tee Bob was not a man. His mouth was too red and soft, his eyes was too big and sorrowful. His skin wasn’t rough enough. He didn’t have a mustache. He had never shaved in his life, and he never would shave.

  Tee Bob went back to LSU the next day, but he came back to Samson Friday evening before Mary Agnes left for New Orleans. He had already figured out the buses. She couldn’t get the one at two-thirty because she didn’t let out school till three; so that meant she had to catch the one at seven o’clock. That meant she had to come to the road between six-thirty and quarter to seven. Six-thirty he went by in the car; Clamp Brown was out there and saw him. Clamp was courting Louise Ricard at the time and he was on his way to Baton Rouge to see her. He said Tee Bob went to the Three Star Club and turned around and came on back. Mary Agnes still wasn’t out there, and he went up the road a piece. Not too far—he didn’t want meet that bus. A few minutes later he was back. Mary Agnes was out there now; her and Clamp was standing there talking. When the car stopped and Clamp saw who it was he moved to one side.

  Tee Bob didn’t get out of the car, he just opened the door. Clamp said he couldn’t hear everything Tee Bob was saying, but from what he could hear he knowed Tee Bob wasn’t talking about how he felt about Mary Agnes. Clamp said he heard him saying something about Christmas play, something about firewood, something about heater, but nothing about how he felt about her.

  When the bus came up, Clamp had to pass by Tee Bob to get on the bus. He said he wasn’t too sure, but he do believe he heard Tee Bob call the girl’s name just before the driver closed the door.

  Confession

  Tee Bob kept it to himself long as he could, then he had to tell it to somebody, and he told it to that redhead boy there of Clarence Caya, Jimmy Caya. Clarence Caya and his brothers owned a plantation on the other side of Bayonne, not far from Tainville. The place was no more than a small farm but they called it a plantation—just so people would think they was in the upper class. Tee Bob met Jimmy Caya at the university there in Baton Rouge, and they used to come home together on the weekends. Jimmy Caya would put Tee Bob off here at Samson, then he would go on to Bayonne to his people. Tee Bob told him ’bout the girl, Mary Agnes, couple weeks after Clamp saw them talking at the road. But he had seen her many more times since then. He was coming back here just about every day now, and every time he came home he went riding through the quarters. He would go all the way back in the field, then he would come back through the quarters just when she was letting out school. If she stayed in there awhile after all the children had gone home, Tee Bob would talk to somebody in the quarters till she came out. If she was already walking up the quarters when he came in from the field, he would run the horse to catch up with her. Then they would come up the quarters together. Him on the horse, her walking with the books and papers in her arms.

  Everybody knowed about it now. The ones here in the quarters, the ones at the house up there, the ones on that river. From Bayonne to Baton Rouge they talked about it. “Reason he don’t show more interest in Frank Major’s daughter, Judy, there, he ain’t sowed all his wild oats yet. From what I hear, he found something on his daddy’s place. One of them high yellow from New Orleans almost white there.” The talk went on from Bayonne to Baton Rouge, both sides of the river.

  One day I came up on them standing at my gate. Tee Bob up there on the horse, Mary Agnes on the ground with them books and papers.

  “How you feel, Jane?” Tee Bob said.

  “Just like I felt a’ hour ago, Tee Bob,” I said.

  He just sat there on that horse. He didn’t want me standing there looking up at him.

  “Thought you was in the field?” I said.

  “I was,” he said.

  “Judy at that house,” I said. She wasn’t there, but I thought he had more business at his own house than he had in front of my gate.

  He turned the horse away from the gate. He didn’t say a thing to the girl. He wasn’t supposed to tell her good-bye in front of me, just like he wasn’t supposed to carry them papers and books through the quarters.

  “What’s going on, Mary Agnes?” I said. “Now, you can tell me it ain’t none of my business if you want.”

  “Nothing’s going on,” she said.

  “You sure?” I said. “Now, it ain’t none of my business.”

  “Nothing’s going on, Miss Jane,” she said.

  “I believe you,” I said. “But I wanted to hear it from you.”

  “He ain’t nothing but a child,” she said. “A lonely boy.”

  “He’s a man, Mary Agnes,” I said. “And he’s a Samson.”

  “I can’t help it if he want ride through the quarters side me,” she said. “I can’t make him leave his own gate.”

  “What y’all talk about, Mary Agnes?” I said.

  “Nothing much,” she said. “School. Children. Wood. Christmas play.”

  “Don’t y’all ever talk about you and him?” I asked her.

  “No, ma’am,” she said.

  “Don’t you know that’s what he want talk about?” I said.

  “I have no interest in that boy,” she said.

  “I believe you, but he got interest in you,” I said.

  “That’s his fault,” she said. “But I got no interest in men, black or white. I’m for these children here. That’s why I left home.”

  “It’s coming a time when he go’n tell you what he’s interested in,” I told her.

  “I can handle Robert,” she said.

  “That’s what you call him? Robert?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And he don’t say nothing?”

  “He want me to call him Robert,” she said. “I never thought about calling him nothing else.”

  “Never Mister?”

  “In front of them children; never by myself. No, ma’am; never. I reckoned I would break down laughing first.”

  “And you think you can handle him?” I said.

  “More than anything else in this world, Robert is decent,” she said.

  “Is this world decent, Mary Agnes?” I said.

  “Robert is more human being than he is white man, Miss Jane,” she said.

  “And how long you think this world go’n let him stay like that?”

  “Robert is good,” she said. “That’s why I don’t fear walking with him. The day he get out of line I’ll tell him he’s too decent for that.”

  “And you think he’ll listen?”

  “Yes, ma’am, because he’s decent,” she said. “Some people do make it, Miss Jane.”

  “Some do, yes,” I said. “But they happen to be the strong ones. And Tee Bob is not one of them.”

  One day Miss Amma Dean asked me: “Jane, what’s going on between Robert and that girl down there?”

  “Nothing, Miss Amma Dean,” I said.

  “I can see them through my glasses,” she said.

  “I talked to her,” I said. “Nothing’s going on.”

  “I don’t want him to think he can do that,” Miss Amma Dean said.

  Robert heard us talking, and came back there in the kitchen where we was.

  “Do what?” he said.

  Miss Amma Dean looked straight at him. “Hurt people,” she said.

  “Maybe she’s leading him,” Robert said. “You ever thought about that?”

  “She don’t go to Baton Rouge and pick him up every day,” Miss Amma Dean said. “She don’t come up here and saddle that horse.”

  “She don’t have to,” Robert said.

  “You ought to know,” Miss Amma Dean said.

  “A few things,” Robert said.

  “I’m go’n talk to him again,” Miss Amma Dean said.

  “Leav
e him alone,” Robert said.

  “I don’t want it,” Miss Amma Dean said.

  “You don’t want what?” Robert said.

  “No more Timmy Hendersons,” Miss Amma Dean said.

  “Whoa, Eve, don’t touch that apple,” Robert said.

  “Eve or no Eve, he’s my only child,” Miss Amma Dean said.

  “But not mine?” Robert said.

  “No,” Miss Amma Dean said, looking straight at him.

  The next day she was on the back gallery watching Tee Bob through the spy glasses. She watched a little bit, then she let me watch some. I could see Tee Bob going back in the field. She took the glasses and kept them awhile, then she handed them back to me. I saw Tee Bob coming back, loping the horse. Miss Amma Dean took the glasses and I saw her working them. Tee Bob was in the quarters now, and she had to work them for the quarters because the quarters was so much closer than the fields. When she handed them to me I saw Mary Agnes and Tee Bob together; Tee Bob on the horse, Mary Agnes on the ground with them books and papers. I couldn’t see them all the time—the houses was blocking them out; I had to see them when they was between the houses. Miss Amma Dean took the glasses and told me to go down there and tell Tee Bob Judy Major was here. When I came in the quarters they was standing in front of my gate.

  “Judy was at that house,” I said.

  “I don’t care,” Tee Bob said.

  “What?” I said. “You want me to go back and tell your mama you sassed me, Tee Bob?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “You getting smart with me, Tee Bob?” I asked him.

  He didn’t say another word, he just turned his head and looked down at Mary Agnes. She told him good day and went in the yard. I was looking up there at him, and I could see how much he wanted her to stay out there. He watched her till she had gone in that house, and he didn’t look at her the way you think a white man look at a nigger woman, either. He looked at her with love, and I mean the kind that’s way deep inside of you. I have not seen too many men, of any color, look at women that way. After she had closed the door he looked down at me again. His face scared me. I saw in his face he was ready to go against his family, this whole world, for Mary Agnes.

  When Miss Amma Dean asked me about them again the next day, I told her I thought Tee Bob loved that girl, but I was sure she didn’t love him and she wasn’t enticing him. And I thought the best thing was for them to get her away from here, and get her away from here quick as possible. Miss Amma Dean just stood there gazing at me. Then she patted her bosom. Then she drawed breath. Then she asked me how could I say such a thing. I should be ashamed of myself to even think Tee Bob could love a woman like that when I knowed all the time he was marrying Judy Major in the spring. To show how wrong I was she was giving a party—that Friday evening—for Tee Bob and Judy Major, and she was inviting all their friends.

  The same day that she gived the party, Tee Bob told Jimmy Caya about Mary Agnes. They was coming from school that day, and Jimmy Caya was driving his family’s car. He said he was driving fast because he had to go all the way to Bayonne before he came back to the party. It was raining that day. Had been raining steady for a couple days now. That kind you get in the grinding that can go on and on and on. He said Tee Bob had been sitting in the car fifteen, twenty minutes, and hadn’t said a word all that time. He didn’t say nothing either, because he thought Tee Bob had his mind on the party. Then all a sudden Tee Bob wanted him to stop the car because he had something to say. He asked Tee Bob couldn’t they talk while he drove. Tee Bob said no. He asked Tee Bob didn’t he want to hurry up and get home so he could change clothes for the party, it wasn’t for him, it was for his mother.

  He found a good place and pulled to the side, and that’s when Tee Bob told him about the girl. Right there in front of him, in his own car, and that rain falling outside, Tee Bob told him he loved a nigger woman more than he loved his own life. He said at first he didn’t think he had heard him right. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. He knowed Tee Bob was seeing that woman every time he came home, but he thought just like everybody else did: Tee Bob was sowing his wild oats before he married Judy Major. He had never thought it went any further than that. So he told Tee Bob to repeat what he had said, and this time take it slow.

  Tee Bob said: “I never told this to nobody else. Not even her. I’m telling it to you because you’re my friend.”

  “I’m not that good a friend,” he told him.

  “Who else can I turn to?” Tee Bob said. “Who else will understand?”

  “Nobody,” Jimmy Caya said. “Me neither.”

  “Then who?” Tee Bob said.

  Jimmy Caya said he couldn’t control himself no longer, and he grabbed Tee Bob’s coat and started shaking him. “Robert, Robert, Robert,” he said. “Don’t you know who you are? Don’t you know what she is? Don’t you know these things yet? At the university, and you don’t know these things yet?

  “That woman is a nigger, Robert. A nigger. She just look white. But Africa is in her veins, and that make her nigger, Robert.”

  But with all his shaking and screaming at him, he said Tee Bob acted like he wasn’t hearing him.

  “Robert,” he told him. “Don’t you listen in class? Ain’t you heard him” (I forget that teacher’s name, but I think he said Gamby) “over and over and over? You think she changed since then? She’s the same woman, Robert. She know her duty, and all she expect from you is ride the horse down there. But that’s far as she expect you to go. The rest is her duty, Robert. She knows that. He” (I’m almost sure he called that teacher Gamby) “told you it was like that then, and it’s the same way now.”

  But he could see Tee Bob wasn’t hearing him.

  “Robert, you’re my friend, and I won’t allow it,” he said. “I’ll have her run off the place. I’ll see to it they run her out of the State.”

  Tee Bob just sat there like he was not listening, or like he was thinking about something else.

  “Listen, Robert,” Jimmy Caya said. And that’s when he told Tee Bob what everybody had always told him. From his daddy to his teacher had told him. “If you want her you go to that house and take her. If you want her at that school, make them children go out in the yard and wait. Take her in that ditch if you can’t wait to get her home. But she’s there for that and nothing else.”

  Jimmy Caya said he didn’t see the lick coming. He didn’t see it, because it came even before Tee Bob’s face had time to change. He said Tee Bob couldn’t ’a’ stayed mad more than a second, because the next thing he saw Tee Bob was gazing down at his hand. The way a man will look at a gun after he’s shot somebody. Like he wants to say, “Where did this come from? Who put it in my hand? How could I ever do that?” Tee Bob gazed at his hand like somebody or something else had raised it.

  I was at the house when they got there. Miss Amma Dean had brought Ethel up there to serve the drinks and the sandwiches, and she had asked me to stay there to make coffee. I was back in the kitchen when Tee Bob and Jimmy Caya came in. They spoke to some of the people who had got there already, then they went in the library. Robert had a bottle of whiskey in there; Tee Bob and Jimmy Caya poured up something to drink. Jimmy Caya stayed in there half an hour, then he left for Bayonne. He was going home and change clothes, then he was coming back. He said just before he walked out of the library, Tee Bob raised his glass to him. He said he thought Tee Bob was just apologizing for hitting him in the car. He didn’t know Tee Bob was telling him good-bye.

  Robert and Mary

  When Tee Bob heard Judy Major and her people coming in the house, he came out of the library and headed for the door. Miss Amma Dean asked him where he thought he was going, didn’t he see Judy there taking off her coat? But he was outside even before she got through talking.

  Mary Agnes was packing her suitcase when she heard him knock at the door. She didn’t know who it was; she wasn’t even sure somebody had knocked. Then she heard it again. She thought it was Clamp, s
o she went to the door to tell him she’d be ready in a second. But when she opened the door she saw Tee Bob standing there. His face red and swole—his eyes wild, strange. She said he scared her for a second. Not because she thought he would do her anything. She thought he was sick or had done something wrong and had come to her for help. She asked him what’s the matter. He said he had to talk to her. She asked him if he was sick. He told her he just had to talk to her. Then he pushed his way in the house. When he passed her she could tell he had been drinking.

  She turned from the door, but she left the door wide open. In case somebody passed and saw that car out there, she wanted them to see that door open, too. Tee Bob went to the bed and sat down. Mary Agnes still thought he was in some kind of trouble and had come to her for help.

  “Tell me what’s the matter,” she said. “I have to hurry and leave.”

  He just sat there looking at her. His face all red and swole. She could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know how she was go’n answer.

  “Something the matter?” she asked him.

  She talked to him like she talked to a brother or a first cousin. She had always looked at him like that: like he was more like her; not like he was a white man. She thought he looked at her that same way. That’s why she never worried about him riding there side her. She never thought he would try anything; and if he did, she always thought she would be able to make him understand.

  Now he told her why he had come there. He said it quick, looking straight at her. He wouldn’t stop for breath. He said it all before she had a chance to answer.

  She didn’t say nothing, but she started shaking her head from the moment he started talking. But he wouldn’t stop. He swore to God he meant every word. He would give her the Samson name tonight. They could go to New Orleans and get married. Nobody there could tell she was colored.

  “You can’t give me something you don’t own yourself, Robert,” she told him.

  “I own my own name,” he said.

  “You don’t even own that,” she said. “They gived you that, they can take that from you.”