Thank-You--Maam

ThankYou,M'ambyLangstonHughesShewasalargewomanwithalargepursethathadeverythinginitbuthammerandnails.Ithadalongstrap,andshecarrieditslungacrosshershoulder.Itwasabouteleveno’clockatnight,andshewaswalkingalone,whenaboyranupbehindherandtriedtosnatchherpurse.Thestrapbrokewiththesingletugtheboygaveitfrombehind.Buttheboy’sweightandtheweightofthepursecombinedcausedhimtolosehisbalanceso,insteadoftakingofffullblastashehadhoped,theboyfellonhisbackonthesidewalk,andhislegsflewup.Thelargewomansimplyturnedaroundandkickedhimrightsquareinhisblue-jeanedsitter.Thenshereacheddown,pickedtheboyupbyhisshirtfront,andshookhimuntilhisteethrattled.Afterthatthewomansaid,“Pickupmypocketbook,boy,andgiveithere.”Shestillheldhim.Butshebentdownenoughtopermithimtostoopandpickupherpurse.Thenshesaid,“Nowain’tyouashamedofyourself?”Firmlygrippedbyhisshirtfront,theboysaid,“Yes’m.”Thewomansaid,“Whatdidyouwanttodoitfor?”Theboysaid,“Ididn’taimto.”Shesaid,“Youalie!”Bythattimetwoorthreepeoplepassed,stopped,turnedtolook,andsomestoodwatching.“IfIturnyouloose,willyourun?”askedthewoman.“Yes’m,”saidtheboy.“ThenIwon’tturnyouloose,”saidthewoman.Shedidnotreleasehim.“I’mverysorry,lady,I’msorry,”whisperedtheboy.“Um-hum!Andyourfaceisdirty.Igotagreatmindtowashyourfaceforyou.Ain’tyougotnobodyhometotellyoutowashyourface?”“No’m,”saidtheboy.“Thenitwillgetwashedthisevening,”saidthelargewomanstartingupthestreet,draggingthefrightenedboybehindher.Helookedasifhewerefourteenorfifteen,frailandwillow-wild,intennisshoesandbluejeans.Thewomansaid,“Yououghttobemyson.Iwouldteachyourightfromwrong.LeastIcandorightnowistowashyourface.Areyouhungry?”“No’m,”saidthebeingdraggedboy.“Ijustwantyoutoturnmeloose.”“WasIbotheringyouwhenIturnedthatcorner?”askedthewoman.“No’m.”“Butyouputyourselfincontactwithme,”saidthewoman.“Ifyouthinkthatthatcontactisnotgoingtolastawhile,yougotanotherthoughtcoming.WhenIgetthroughwithyou,sir,youaregoingtorememberMrs.LuellaBatesWashingtonJones.”Sweatpoppedoutontheboy’sfaceandhebegantostruggle.Mrs.Jonesstopped,jerkedhimaroundinfrontofher,putahalf-nelsonabouthisneck,andcontinuedtodraghimupthestreet.Whenshegottoherdoor,shedraggedtheboyinside,downahall,andintoalargekitchenettefurnishedroomattherearofthehouse.Sheswitchedonthelightandleftthedooropen.Theboycouldhearotherroomerslaughingandtalkinginthelargehouse.Someoftheirdoorswereopen,too,soheknewheandthewomanwerenotalone.Thewomanstillhadhimbytheneckinthemiddleofherroom.Shesaid,“Whatisyourname?”“Roger,”answeredtheboy.“Then,Roger,yougotothatsinkandwashyourface,”saidthewoman,whereuponsheturnedhimloose—atlast.Rogerlookedatthedoor—lookedatthewoman—lookedatthedoor—andwenttothesink.Letthewaterrununtilitgetswarm,”shesaid.“Here’sacleantowel.”“Yougonnatakemetojail?”askedtheboy,bendingoverthesink.“Notwiththatface,Iwouldnottakeyounowhere,”saidthewoman.“HereIamtryingtogethometocookmeabitetoeatandyousnatchmypocketbook!Maybe,youain’tbeentoyoursuppereither,lateasitbe.Haveyou?”“There’snobodyhomeatmyhouse,”saidtheboy.“Thenwe’lleat,”saidthewoman,“Ibelieveyou’rehungry—orbeenhungry—totrytosnatchmypocketbook.”“Iwantedapairofbluesuedeshoes,”saidtheboy.“Well,youdidn’thavetosnatchmypocketbooktogetsomesuedeshoes,”saidMrs.LuellaBatesWashingtonJones.“Youcouldofaskedme.”“M’am?”Thewaterdrippingfromhisface,theboylookedather.Therewasalongpause.Averylongpause.Afterhehaddriedhisfaceandnotknowingwhatelsetododrieditagain,theboyturnedaround,wonderingwhatnext.Thedoorwasopen.Hecouldmakeadashforitdownthehall.Hecouldrun,run,run,run,run!Thewomanwassittingontheday-bed.Afterawhileshesaid,“IwereyoungonceandIwantedthingsIcouldnotget.”Therewasanotherlongpause.Theboy’smouthopened.Thenhefrowned,butnotknowinghefrowned.Thewomansaid,“Um-hum!YouthoughtIwasgoingtosaybut,didn’tyou?YouthoughtIwasgoingtosay,butIdidn’tsnatchpeople’spocketbooks.Well,Iwasn’tgoingtosaythat.”Pause.Silence.“Ihavedonethings,too,whichIwouldnottellyou,son—neithertellGod,ifhedidn’talreadyknow.SoyousetdownwhileIfixussomethingtoeat.Youmightrunthatcombthroughyourhairsoyouwilllookpresentable.”Inanothercorneroftheroombehindascreenwasagasplateandanicebox.Mrs.Jonesgotupandwentbehindthescreen.Thewomandidnotwatchtheboytoseeifhewasgoingtorunnow,nordidshewatchherpursewhichsheleftbehindherontheday-bed.Buttheboytookcaretositonthefarsideoftheroomwherehethoughtshecouldeasilyseehimoutofthecornerofhereye,ifshewantedto.Hedidnottrustthewomannottotrusthim.Andhedidnotwanttobemistrustednow.“Doyouneedsomebodytogotothestore,”askedtheboy,“maybetogetsomemilkorsomething?”“Don’tbelieveIdo,”saidthewoman,“unlessyoujustwantsweetmilkyourself.IwasgoingtomakecocoaoutofthiscannedmilkIgothere.”“Thatwillbefine,”saidtheboy.Sheheatedsomelimabeansandhamshehadintheicebox,madethecocoa,andsetthetable.Thewomandidnotasktheboyanythingaboutwherehelived,orhisfolks,oranythingelsethatwouldembarrasshim.Instead,astheyate,shetoldhimaboutherjobinahotelbeauty-shopthatstayedopenlate,whattheworkwaslike,andhowallkindsofwomencameinandout,blondes,red-heads,andSpanish.Thenshecuthimahalfofherten-centcake.“Eatsomemore,son,”shesaid.Whentheywerefinishedeatingshegot