Native Son Part 24

"Yessuh. But he wanted to drive and she told me to let him."

There was another silence. They wanted him to draw the picture and he would draw it like he wanted it. He was trembling with excitement. In the past had they not always drawn the picture for him? He could tell them anything he wanted and what could they do about it? It was his word against Jan's, and Jan was a Red.

"You waited somewhere for 'em?" Britten asked; the tone of curt hostility had suddenly left his voice.

"Nawsuh. I was in the car...."

"And where did they go?"

He wanted to tell of how they had made him sit between them; but he thought that he would tell that later on, when he was telling how Jan and Mary had made him feel.

"Well, Mr. Jan asked me where was a good place to eat. The only one I knew about where white folks," he said "white folks" very slowly, so that they would know that he was conscious of what was meant, "ate on the South Side was Ernie's Kitchen Shack."

"You took them there?"

"Mr. Jan drove the car, suh."

"How long did they stay there?"

"Well, we must've stayed...."

"Weren't you waiting in the car?"

"Nawsuh. You see, mister, I did what they told me. I was only working for 'em...."

"Oh!" Britten said. "I suppose he made you eat eat with 'im?" with 'im?"

"I didn't want to, mister. I swear I didn't. He kept worrying me till I went in."

Britten walked away from the trunk, running the fingers of his left hand nervously through his hair. Again he turned to Bigger.

"They got drunk, hunh?"

"Yessuh. They was drinking."

"What did this Jan say to you?"

"He talked about the Communists...."

"How much did they drink?"

"It seemed like a lot to me, suh."

"Then you brought 'em home?"

"I drove 'em through the park, suh."

"Then you brought 'em home?" you brought 'em home?"

"Yessuh. That was nearly two."

"How drunk was Miss Dalton?"

"Well, she couldn't hardly stand up, suh. When we got home, he had to lift her up the steps," Bigger said with lowered eyes.

"That's all right, boy. You can talk to us about it," Britten said. "Just how drunk was she?"

"She pa.s.sed out," Bigger said.

Britten looked at Dalton.

"She could not have left this house by herself," Britten said. "If Mrs. Dalton's right, then she could not not have left." Britten stared at Bigger and Bigger felt that some deeper question was on Britten's mind. have left." Britten stared at Bigger and Bigger felt that some deeper question was on Britten's mind.

"What else happened?"

He would shoot now; he would let them have some of it.

"Well, I told you Miss Dalton told me to take the trunk. I said that 'cause she told me not to tell about me taking her to the Loop It was Mr. Jan who told me to take the trunk down and not put the car away."

"He told you not to put the car away and to take the trunk?" told you not to put the car away and to take the trunk?"

"Yessuh. That's right."

"Why didn't you tell us this before, Bigger?" asked Mr. Dalton.

"She told me not to, suh."

"How was this Jan acting?" Britten asked.

"He was drunk," said Bigger, feeling that now was the time to drag Jan in definitely. "Mr. Jan was the one who told me to take the trunk down and leave the car in the snow. I told you Miss Dalton told me that, but he told me. I would've been giving the whole thing away if I had told about Mr. Jan."

Britten walked toward the furnace and back again; the furnace droned as before. Bigger hoped that no one would try to look into it now; his throat grew dry. Then he started nervously as Britten whirled and pointed his finger into his face.

"What did he say about the Party?"

"Suh?"

"Aw, come on, boy! Don't stall! Tell me what he said about the Party!"

"The party? He asked me to sit at his table...."

"I mean the Party Party!"

"It wasn't a party, mister. He made me sit at his table and he bought chicken and told me to eat. I didn't want to, but he made me and it was my job."

Britten came close to Bigger and narrowed his grey eyes.

"What unit are you in?"

"Suh?"

"Come on, Comrade Comrade, tell me what unit you are in?"

Bigger gazed at him, speechless, alarmed.

"Who's your organizer?"

"I don't know what you mean," Bigger said, his voice quavering.

"Don't you read the Daily Daily?"

"Daily what?"

"Didn't you know Jan before you came to work here?"

"Nawsuh. Naw Nawsuh!"

"Didn't they send you to Russia?"

Bigger stared and did not answer. He knew now that Britten was trying to find out if he were a Communist. It was something he had not counted on, ever. He stood up, trembling. He had not thought that this thing could cut two ways. Slowly, he shook his head and backed away.

"Nawsuh. You got me wrong. I ain't never fooled around with them folks. Miss Dalton and Mr. Jan was the first ones I ever met, so help me G.o.d!"

Britten followed Bigger till Bigger's head struck the wall. Bigger looked squarely into his eyes. Britten, with a movement so fast that Bigger did not see it, grabbed him in the collar and rammed his head hard against the wall. He saw a flash of red.

"You are are a Communist, a Communist, you G.o.dd.a.m.n you G.o.dd.a.m.n black sonofab.i.t.c.h! And you're going to tell me about Miss Dalton and that Jan b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" black sonofab.i.t.c.h! And you're going to tell me about Miss Dalton and that Jan b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"Nawsuh! I ain't no Communist! Naw Nawsuh!"

"Well, what's this this?" Britten jerked from his pocket the small packet of pamphlets that Bigger had put in his dresser drawer, and held them under his eyes. "You know you're lying! Come on, talk!"

"Nawsuh! You got me wrong! Mr. Jan gave me them things! He and Miss Dalton told me to read 'em...."

"Didn't you know Miss Dalton before?"

"Nawsuh!"

"Wait, Britten!" Mr. Dalton laid his hand on Britten's arm. "Wait. There's something to what he says. She tried to talk to him about unions when she first saw him yesterday. If that Jan gave him those pamphlets, then he knows nothing about it."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive. I thought at first, when you brought me those pamphlets, that he must have known something. But I don't think he does. And there's no use blaming him for something he didn't do."

Britten loosened his fingers from Bigger's collar and shrugged his shoulders. Bigger relaxed, still standing, his head resting against the wall, aching. He had not thought that anyone would dare think that he, a black Negro, would be Jan's partner. Britten was his enemy. He knew that the hard light in Britten's eyes held him guilty because he was black. He hated Britten so hard and hot, while standing there with sleepy eyes and parted lips, that he would gladly have grabbed the iron shovel from the corner and split his skull in two. For a split second a roaring noise in his ears blotted out sound. He struggled to control himself; then he heard Britten talking.

"...got to get hold of that Jan."

"That seems to be the next thing," said Mr. Dalton, sighing.

Bigger felt that if he said something directly to Mr. Dalton, he could swing things round again in his favor; but he did not know just how to put it.

"You suppose she ran off?" he heard Britten ask.

"I don't know," Mr. Dalton said.

Britten turned to Bigger and looked at him; Bigger kept his eyes down.

"Boy, I just want to know, are you telling the truth?"

"Yessuh. I'm telling the truth. I just started to work here last night. I ain't done nothing. I did just what they told me to do."

"You sure he's all right?" Britten asked Dalton.

"He's all right."

"If you don't want me to work for you, Mr. Dalton," Bigger said, "I'll go home. I didn't want to come here," he continued, feeling that his words would awaken in Mr. Dalton a sense of why he was here, "but they sent me anyhow."

"That's true," Mr. Dalton told Britten. "He's referred to me from the relief. He's been in a reform school and I'm giving him a chance...." Mr. Dalton turned to Bigger. "Just forget it, Bigger We had to make sure. Stay on and do your work. I'm sorry this had to happen. Don't let it break you down."

"Yessuh."

"O.K.," said Britten. "If you say he's O.K., then it's O.K. with me."

"Go on to your room, Bigger," said Mr. Dalton.

"Yessuh."

Head down, he walked to the rear of the furnace and upstairs into his room. He turned the latch on the door and hurried to the closet to listen. The voices came clearly. Britten and Mr. Dalton had come into the kitchen.

"My, but it was hot down there," said Mr. Dalton.

"Yes."

".... I'm a little sorry you bothered him. He's here to try to get a new slant on things."

"Well, you see 'em one way and I see 'em another. To me, a n.i.g.g.e.r's a n.i.g.g.e.r."

"But he's sort of a problem boy. He's not really bad."

"You got to be rough with 'em, Dalton. See how I got that dope out of 'im? He wouldn't've told you that."

"But I don't want to make a mistake here. It wasn't his fault. He was doing what that crazy daughter of mine told him. I don't want to do anything I'll regret. After all, these black boys never get a chance...."

"They don't need a chance, if you ask me. They get in enough trouble without it."

"Well, as long as they do their work, let's let 'em be."

"Just as you say. You want me to stay on the job?"