Native Son Part 39

"Bigger," his mother sobbed, trying to talk through her tears. "Bigger, honey, she won't go to school no more. She says the other girls look at and make her 'shamed...."

He had lived and acted on the a.s.sumption that he was alone, and now he saw that he had not been. What he had done made others suffer. No matter how much he would long for them to forget him, they would not be able to. His family was a part of him, not only in blood, but in spirit. He sat on the cot and his mother knelt at his feet. Her face was lifted to his; her eyes were empty, eyes that looked upward when the last hope of earth had failed.

"I'm praying for you, son. That's all I can do now," she said. "The Lord knows I did all I could for you and your sister and brother. I scrubbed and washed and ironed from morning till night, day in and day out, as long as I had strength in my old body. I did all I know how, son, and if I left anything undone, it's just 'cause I didn't know. It's just 'cause your poor old ma couldn't see, son. When I heard the news of what happened, I got on my knees and turned my eyes to G.o.d and asked Him if I had raised you wrong. I asked Him to let me bear your burden if I did wrong by you. Honey, your poor old ma can't do nothing now. I'm old and this is too much for me. I'm at the end of my rope. Listen, son, your poor old ma wants you to promise her one thing.... Honey, when ain't n.o.body round you, when you alone, get on your knees and tell G.o.d everything. Ask Him to guide you. That's all you can do now. Son, promise promise me you'll go to Him." me you'll go to Him."

"Ahmen!" the preacher intoned fervently.

"Forget me, Ma," Bigger said.

"Son, I can't forget you. You're my boy. I brought you into this world."

"Forget me, Ma."

"Son, I'm worried about you. I can't help it. You got your soul to save. I won't be able to rest easy as long as I'm on this earth if I thought you had gone away from us without asking G.o.d for help. Bigger, we had a hard time in this world, but through it all, we been together, ain't we?"

"Yessum," he whispered.

"Son, there's a place where we can be together again in the great bye and bye. G.o.d's done fixed it so we can. He's fixed a meeting place for us, a place where we can live without fear. No matter what happens to us here, we can be together in G.o.d's heaven. Bigger, your old ma's a-begging you to promise her you'll pray."

"She's tellin' yuh right, son," the preacher said.

"Forget me, Ma," Bigger said.

"Don't you want to see your old ma again, son?"

Slowly, he stood up and lifted his hands and tried to touch his mother's face and tell her yes; and as he did so something screamed deep down in him that it was a lie, that seeing her after they killed him would never be. But his mother believed; it was her last hope; it was what had kept her going through the long years. And she was now believing it all the harder because of the trouble he had brought upon her. His hands finally touched her face and he said with a sigh (knowing that it would never be, knowing that his heart did not believe, knowing that when he died, it would be over, forever): "I'll pray, Ma."

Vera ran to him and embraced him. Buddy looked grateful. His mother was so happy that all she could do was cry. Jack and G.H. and Gus smiled. Then his mother stood up and encircled him with her arms.

"Come here, Vera," she whimpered.

Vera came.

"Come here, Buddy."

Buddy came.

"Now, put your arms around your brother," she said.

They stood in the middle of the floor, crying, with their arms locked about Bigger. Bigger held his face stiff, hating them and himself, feeling the white people along the wall watching. His mother mumbled a prayer, to which the preacher chanted.

"Lord, here we is, maybe for the last time. You gave me these children, Lord, and told me to raise 'em. If I failed, Lord, I did the best I could. (Ahmen!) These poor children's been with me a long time and they's all I got. Lord, please let me see 'em again after the sorrow and suffering of this world! (Hear her, Lawd!) Lord, please let me see 'em where I can love 'em in peace. Let me see 'em again beyond the grave! (Have mercy, Jesus!) You said You'd heed prayer, Lord, and I'm asking this in the name of Your son."

"Ahmen 'n' Gawd bless yuh, Sistah Thomas," the preacher said.

They took their arms from round Bigger, silently, slowly; then turned their faces away, as though their weakness made them ashamed in the presence of powers greater than themselves.

"We leaving you now with G.o.d, Bigger," his mother said. "Be sure and pray, son."

They kissed him.

Buckley came forward.

"You'll have to go now, Mrs. Thomas," he said. He turned to Mr. and Mrs. Dalton. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dalton. I didn't mean to keep you standing there so long. But you see how things are...."

Bigger saw his mother straighten suddenly and stare at the blind white woman.

"Is you Mrs. Dalton?" she asked.

Mrs. Dalton moved nervously, lifted her thin, white hands and tilted her head. Her mouth came open and Mr. Dalton placed an arm about her.

"Yes," Mrs. Dalton whispered.

"Oh, Mrs. Dalton, come right this way," Buckley said hurriedly.

"No; please," Mrs. Dalton said. "What is it, Mrs. Thomas?"

Bigger's mother ran and knelt on the floor at Mrs. Dalton's feet.

"Please, mam!" she wailed. "Please, don't let 'em kill my boy! You know how a mother feels! Please, mam.... We live in your house.... They done asked us to move.... We ain't got nothing...."

Bigger was paralyzed with shame; he felt violated.

"Ma!" he shouted, more in shame than anger.

Max and Jan ran to the black woman and tried to lift her up.

"That's all right, Mrs. Thomas," Max said. "Come with me."

"Wait," Mrs. Dalton said.

"Please, mam! Don't let 'em kill my boy! He ain't never had a chance! He's just a poor boy! Don't let 'em kill 'im! I'll work for you for the rest of my life! I'll do anything you say, mam!" the mother sobbed.

Mrs. Dalton stooped slowly, her hands trembling in the air. She touched the mother's head.

"There's nothing I can do now," Mrs. Dalton said calmly. "It's out of my hands. I did all I could, when I wanted to give your boy a chance at life. You're not to blame for this. You must be brave. Maybe it's better...."

"If you speak to 'em, they'll listen to you, mam," the mother sobbed. "Tell 'em to have mercy on my boy...."

"Mrs. Thomas, it's too late for me to do anything now," Mrs. Dalton said. "You must not feel like this. You have your other children to think of...."

"I know you hate us, mam! You lost your daughter...."

"No; no.... I don't hate you," Mrs. Dalton said.

The mother crawled from Mrs. Dalton to Mr. Dalton.

"You's rich and powerful," she sobbed. "Spare me my boy...."

Max struggled with the black woman and got her to her feet Bigger's shame for his mother amounted to hate. He stood with clenched fists, his eyes burning. He felt that in another moment he would have leaped at her.

"That's all right, Mrs. Thomas," Max said.

Mr. Dalton came forward.

"Mrs. Thomas, there's nothing we can do," he said. "This thing is out of our hands. Up to a certain point we can help you, but beyond that.... People must protect themselves. But you won't have to move. I'll tell them not to make you move."

The black woman sobbed. Finally, she quieted enough to speak.

"Thank you, sir. G.o.d knows I thank you...."

She turned again toward Bigger, but Max led her from the room. Jan caught hold of Vera's arm and led her forward, then stopped in the doorway, looking at Jack and G.H. and Gus.

"You boys going to the South Side?"

"Yessuh," they said.

"Come on. I got a car downstairs. I'll take you."

"Yessuh."

Buddy lingered, looking wistfully at Bigger.

"Good-bye, Bigger," he said.

"Good-bye, Buddy," Bigger mumbled.

The preacher pa.s.sed Bigger and pressed his arm.

"Gawd bless you, son."

They all left except Buckley. Bigger sat again upon the cot, weak and exhausted. Buckley stood over him.

"Now, Bigger, you see all the trouble you've caused? Now, I'd like to get this case out of the way as soon as possible. The longer you stay in jail, the more agitation there'll be for and against you. And that doesn't help you any, no matter who tells you it does. Boy, there's not but one thing for you to do, and that's to come clean. I know those Reds, Max and Erlone, have told you a lot of things about what they're going to do for you. But, don't believe 'em. They're just after publicity, boy; just after building themselves up at your expense, see? They can't do a d.a.m.n d.a.m.n thing for you! You're dealing with the thing for you! You're dealing with the law law now! And if you let those Reds put a lot of fool ideas into your head, then you're gambling with your own life." now! And if you let those Reds put a lot of fool ideas into your head, then you're gambling with your own life."

Buckley stopped and relit his cigar. He c.o.c.ked his head to one side, listening.

"You hear that?" he asked softly.

Bigger looked at him, puzzled. He listened, hearing a faint din.

"Come here, boy. I want to show you something," he said, rising and catching hold of Bigger's arm.

Bigger was reluctant to follow him.

"Come on. n.o.body's going to hurt you."

Bigger followed him out of the door; there were several policemen standing on guard in the hallway. Buckley led Bigger to a window through which he looked and saw the streets below crowded with ma.s.ses of people in all directions.

"See that, boy? Those people would like to lynch you. That's why I'm asking you to trust me and talk to me. The quicker we get this thing over, the better for you. We're going to try to keep 'em from bothering you. But can't you see the longer they stay around here, the harder it'll be for us to handle them?"

Buckley let go of Bigger's arm and hoisted the window; a cold wind swept in and Bigger heard a roar of voices. Involuntarily, he stepped backward. Would they break into the jail? Buckley shut the window and led him back to the room. He sat upon the cot and Buckley sat opposite him.

"You look like an intelligent boy. You see what you're in. Tell me about this thing. Don't let those Reds fool you into saying you're not guilty. I'm talking to you as straight as I'd talk to a son of mine. Sign a confession and get this over with."

Bigger said nothing; he sat looking at the floor.

"Was Jan mixed up in this?"

Bigger heard the faint excited sound of mob voices coming through the concrete walls of the building.

"He proved an alibi and he's free. Tell me, did he leave you holding the bag?"

Bigger heard the far-away clang of a street car.

"If he made you do it, then sign a complaint against him."

Bigger saw the s.h.i.+ning tip of the man's black shoes; the sharp creases in his striped trousers; the clear, icy glinting of the eye-gla.s.ses upon his high, long nose.

"Boy," said Buckley in a voice so loud that Bigger flinched, "where's Bessie?"

Bigger's eyes widened. He had not thought of Bessie but once since his capture. Her death was unimportant beside that of Mary's; he knew that when they killed him it would be for Mary's death; not Bessie's.

"Well, boy, we found her. You hit her with a brick, but she didn't die right away...."

Bigger's muscles jerked him to his feet. Bessie alive alive! But the voice droned on and he sat down.

"She tried to get out of that air-shaft, but she couldn't. She froze to death. We got the brick you hit her with. We got the blanket and the quilt and the pillows you took from her room. We got a letter from her purse she had written to you and hadn't mailed, a letter telling you she didn't want to go through with trying to collect the ransom money. You see, boy, we got you. Come on, now, tell me all about it."

Bigger said nothing. He buried his face in his hands.

"You raped her, didn't you? Well, if you won't tell about Bessie, then tell me about that woman you raped and choked to death over on University Avenue last fall."

Was the man trying to scare him, or did he really think he had done other killings?

"Boy, you might just as well tell me. We've got a line on all you ever did. And how about the girl you attacked in Jackson Park last summer? Listen, boy, when you were in your cell sleeping and wouldn't talk, we brought women in to identify you. Two women swore complaints against you. One was the sister of the woman you killed last fall, Mrs. Clinton. The other woman, Miss Ashton, says you attacked her last summer by climbing through the window of her bedroom."

"I ain't bothered no woman last summer or last fall either," Bigger said.

"Miss Ashton identified you. She swears you're the one."

"I don't know nothing about it."

"But Mrs. Clinton, the sister of the woman you killed last fall, came to your cell and pointed you out. Who'll believe you when you say you didn't do it? You killed and raped two women in two days; who'll believe you when you say you didn't rape and kill the others? Come on, boy. You haven't a chance holding out."

"I don't know nothing about other women," Bigger repeated stubbornly.

Bigger wondered how much did the man really know. Was he lying about the other women in order to get him to tell about Mary and Bessie? Or were they really trying to pin other crimes upon him?