The Trip to Bountiful Page #7

Yes, ma'am, I understand, Mama.

It's done now, so let's just forget about it.

All right, son.

- You did bring Jessie Mae, didn't you?

- Yes, ma'am.

Now she's here, isn't she going to get out

of the car and look around a little?

She didn't seem to want to, Mama.

- You asked her?

- Yes, ma'am.

- Did you ask about your raise, son?

- Yes, ma'am.

Mr. Douglas said he liked my work and that

he'd be glad to recommend a raise for me.

The sky is so blue, Ludie.

Did you ever see a sky so blue?

No, ma'am.

You know, Callie Davis died.

Is that so?

- When did that happen?

- They don't rightly know.

They found her dead.

She'd been riding a tractor

the day before they found her.

They buried her yesterday.

I should've made myself

bring you out here sooner.

I'm sorry.

I just thought it'd be easier

if we didn't see the house again.

I know, Ludie.

But now you're here...

wouldn't you like to come inside, son?

- Look around?

- No.

I don't think I'd better, Mama.

I don't see any use in it.

I'd rather remember it like it was.

Yeah, the old house has gotten

kind of run-down, hasn't it?

I don't think it's going to last out

the next Gulf storm.

Doesn't look like it would.

You know who you look like standing there?

- Who?

- My papa.

I do?

Just like.

Of course, I've been noticing

as you've been getting older...

that you look more and more like him.

My papa was a good-looking man.

He was?

You've seen his pictures.

Didn't you think so?

I don't remember. It's been so long

since I looked at his pictures.

He was always considered

a very nice-looking man.

Do you remember my papa at all, son?

No, ma'am, not too well.

I was only 10 when he died, Mama.

I remember the day that he died.

I heard about it as I was coming home

from school.

Lee Weems told me. I thought he was joking

and I called him a liar.

I remember you took me

into the parlor there...

the day of the funeral

to say goodbye to him.

I remember the coffin

and the people sitting in the room.

Old man Lew...

Joe Weems took me up on his knee...

and told me that Grandpapa

was his best friend...

and that his life

was a real example for me to follow.

I remember Grandmama sitting

by the coffin and crying...

and she made me promise...

that when I had a son of my own

I would name him after Grandpapa.

I would, too!

I have never forgotten that promise!

I didn't have a son.

Or a daughter.

Billy Davis told me today

that his wife is expecting her fourth child.

They already have two girls and a son.

Billy Davis doesn't make much more

than I do.

And they certainly seem to get along.

Have their own house and a car.

It does your heart good to hear

about how they all get along.

Everybody has their own job,

even the youngest child, she's only three.

She puts the napkins on the table

at mealtimes. That's her job!

And Billy says to me, "Ludie, I don't

know if I could get along without my kids."

He says, "I don t know how you get

along, Ludie. What you work for?"

I said, "Well, Billy..."

I haven't made any kind of life

for you, Mama.

Either of you.

And I try so hard...

Mama, I lied to you.

I do remember.

I remember so much.

This house, this life here.

The night you woke me up, dressed me,

took me for a walk when the moon was full...

and I cried 'cause I was scared,

and you comforted me.

I want to stop remembering.

It doesn't do any good remembering.

That's Jessie Mae.

We have to start back now, Mama.

No!

Ludie, what has happened to us?

How did we come to this?

I don't know, Mama.

To have stayed and fought the land

would be better than this.

Yes, ma'am.

You know, pretty soon all this'll be gone.

In 20 years, 10.

This house...

me...

you.

I know, Mama.

But the river's still here...

the fields...

the trees...

and the smell of the Gulf.

I always got my strength from that.

Not from houses.

And not from people.

It's so quiet.

It's so eternally quiet.

I'd forgotten the peace...

the quiet.

Do you remember how my papa always had

that field over there planted in cotton?

Yes, Mama.

You see, it's all woods now.

But I expect someday people will come...

and cut down the trees

and plant the cotton...

and maybe even wear out the land again.

And then their children will sell it

and move to the cities.

And then, trees will come up again.

I expect so, Mama.

And we're part of all that.

We left it, but we can never lose

what it's given us.

I expect so, Mama.

Ludie, are you coming or not?

We were just starting, Jessie Mae.

Hello! Jessie Mae!

I am not speaking to you.

I guess you're proud of the time you gave us

dragging us here at this time of morning.

If Ludie loses his job over this,

I hope you are satisfied.

I'm not gonna lose my job, Jessie Mae.

- Well, you could!

- All right, Jessie Mae.

And she should realize that.

She's selfish. That's her trouble.

Always has been, just pure-dee selfish.

Did you tell your mama

what we were discussing in the car?

No, we can talk it all over

driving back to Houston.

I think we should have it all out right here!

I would like everything understood

right now. I have it all written down.

You want to read it or you want me

to read it to you, Mother Watts?

What is it, Jessie Mae?

It's a few rules and regulations

that are necessary to my peace of mind.

And, I think, to Ludie's.

- First of all, I'd like to ask you a question.

- Yes, ma'am?

Didn't you know you'd be caught

and have to come back?

I had to come, Jessie Mae.

Twenty years is a long time.

- Didn't you know you could've died?

- I knew.

And you didn't care?

I had to come, Jessie Mae.

- I hope it's out of your system now.

- It is.

I've had my trip...

and that's more than enough

to keep me happy for the rest of my life.

I'm glad to hear it.

That's the first thing on my list.

- There'll be no more running away.

- There'll be no more running away.

Good.

Number two. No more hymn singing...

when I'm in the apartment.

When I'm gone,

you can sing your lungs out.

- Agreed?

- Agreed.

- Number three.

- Jessie Mae, can't this wait till we get home?

Honey,

we agreed that I was going to handle this.

No more pouting.

When I ask a question,

I would like an answer.

Otherwise, I'll consider it pouting.

All right.

Number four.

With your heart in the condition that it's in...

I feel you should not run

around the apartment when you can walk.

All right, Jessie Mae.

Is there anything you want to say to me?

No, Jessie Mae.

I might as well tell you right now...

I'm not staying in the house

and watching over you anymore.

I'm joining a bridge club...

and I am going to town

at least twice a week.

We also agreed...

to try to get along.

Jessie Mae also realizes that sometimes

she gets upset when she shouldn't.

Don't you, Jessie Mae?

So let's start

by trying to have a pleasant ride home.

All right.

Is there any water around here? I'm thirsty.

I don't think so, Jessie Mae.

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