Thank+You,+M'am+story

=Thank You, M'am= __ by Langston Hughes

She was a large woman with a large pocketbook that had everything in it. It had a long strap, and she carried it across her shoulder. It was 11 o'clock at night. It was dark and she was walking alone in the city. A boy ran up behind her and tried to steal her pocketbook by pulling the strap. But the boy lost his balance and fell on the sidewalk. The large woman turned around and kicked him in his pants. Then she reached down, picked the boy up by his shirt and shook him.

The woman said, "Pick up my pocketbook, boy and give it here." She still held him tightly as he picked up the pocketbook. Then she said," Now ain't you ashamed of yourself ?" The boy said, "Yes". The woman said, " What did you want to do it for?" The boy said, "I didn't aim to." She said, "You lie!" "If I turn you loose, will you run?" asked the woman. "Yes", said the boy. "Then I won't turn you loose," said the woman. She did not let go of him. "Lady, I'm sorry", said the boy. " Your face is dirty. I think I will wash your face for you." " No", said the boy. "Then it will get washed this evening," said the large woman.

She started to walk down the street dragging the frightened boy behind her. The boy looked fourteen or fifteen years old. He was thin and wore sneakers and jeans.

The woman said,"You ought to be my son. I would teach you right from wrong. All I can do now is wash your face. Are you hungry?" "No", said the boy as he was being dragged down the street. "I just want you to let me go." " Was I bothering //**you**// when I turned that corner?" asked the woman. "No," said the boy. " But you put yourself in contact with me," said the woman.n"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 put him in a tight head lock and kept dragging him down the street. When she got to her house, she dragged him inside and into her small kitchen at the back of her house. She turned on the light and left the door open. The boy could hear people talking in other parts of the house, so he knew that he and the woman were not alone. The woman still had him by the neck in the middle of the room.

She said, "What's your name?" "Roger", answered the boy. "Then Roger, you go to that sink and wash your face," said the woman. And she let go of him. Roger looked at the open door - looked at the woman - looked at the open 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 try to steal my pocketbook! Maybe you didn't eat either because it is late. Have you?" " There's nobody home at my house," said the boy. " Then we'll eat", said the woman. " I believe you are hungry to try to steal my pocketbook!" " I want a pair of blue suede shoes," said the boy. "Well, you didn't have to steal my pocketbook to get some shoes," said **Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones**. "You could of asked me." "M'am?" Water dripping down his face, the boy looked at her. There was a long pause. A very long pause. He dried his face, not knowing what else to do. And he dried it again. He wondered what would happen next. The door was open. He could run, run, run. The woman was sitting down. After a while she said, " I was young once and I wanted things I could not get." The boy watched her but did not know what to say. The woman said," You thought I was going to say //**but,**// didn't you? You thought I was going to say, //but I didn't steal from people.// Well I wasn't I wasn't going to say that." There was silence. "I have done things too, which I would not tell you, son - 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 look nice."

In another corner of the room behind a screen was a stove and a cooler. 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 pocketbook, 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 pocketbook, 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. He wanted people to trust him now.

"Do you need somebody to go to the store," the boy asked, "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 beans and ham she had in the cooler, 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 make him feel bad. Instead, as they ate, she told him about her 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 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 fancy blue shoes. And next time, do not make the mistake of latching onto my pocketbook not 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 food of the stoop and looked up at the large woman in the door. Then she shut the door.