Native Son Part 47

"You say you hated her?"

"Yeah; and I ain't sorry she's dead."

"But what had she done to you? You say you had just met her."

"I don't know. She didn't do nothing to me." He paused and ran his hand nervously across his forehead. "She.... It was... h.e.l.l, I don't know. She asked me a lot of questions. She acted and talked in a way that made me hate her. She made me feel like a dog I was so mad I wanted to cry...." His voice trailed off in a plaintive whimper. He licked his lips. He was caught in a net of vague, a.s.sociative memory: he saw an image of his little sister, Vera, sitting on the edge of a chair crying because he had shamed her by "looking" at her; he saw her rise and fling her shoe at him. He shook his head, confused. "Aw, Mr. Max, she wanted me to tell her how Negroes live. She got into the front seat of the car where I was...."

"But, Bigger, you don't hate people for that. She was being kind to you...."

"Kind, h.e.l.l! She wasn't kind to me!"

"What do you mean? She accepted you as another human being."

"Mr. Max, we're all split up. What you say is kind ain't kind at all. I didn't know nothing about that woman. All I knew was that they kill us for women like her. We live apart. And then she comes and acts like that to me."

"Bigger, you should have tried to understand. She was acting toward you only as she knew how."

Bigger glared about the small room, searching for an answer. He knew that his actions did not seem logical and he gave up trying to explain them logically. He reverted to his feelings as a guide in answering Max.

"Well, I acted toward her only as I know how. She was rich. She and her kind own the earth. She and her kind say black folks are dogs. They don't let you do nothing but what they want...."

"But, Bigger, this this woman was trying to help you!" woman was trying to help you!"

"She didn't act like it."

"How should should she have acted?" she have acted?"

"Aw, I don't know, Mr. Max. White folks and black folks is strangers. We don't know what each other is thinking. Maybe she was trying to be kind; but she didn't act like it. To me she looked and acted like all other white folks...."

"But she's not to be blamed for that, Bigger."

"She's the same color as the rest of 'em," he said defensively.

"I don't understand, Bigger. You say you hated her and yet you say you felt like having her when you were in the room and she was drunk and you were drunk...."

"Yeah," Bigger said, wagging his head and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah; that's funny, ain't it?" He sucked at his cigarette. "Yeah; I reckon it was because I knew I oughtn't've wanted to. I reckon it was because they say we black men do that anyhow. Mr. Max, you know what some white men say we black men do? They say we rape white women when we got the clap and they say we do that because we believe that if we rape white women then we'll get rid of the clap. That's what some white men say say. They believe believe that. Jesus, Mr. Max, when folks says things like that about you, you whipped before you born. What's the use? Yeah; I reckon I was feeling that way when I was in the room with her. They say we do things like that and they say it to kill us. They draw a line and say for you to stay on your side of the line. They don't care if there's no bread over on your side. They don't care if you die. And then they say things like that about you and when you try to come from behind your line they kill you. They feel they ought to kill you then. Everybody wants to kill you then. Yeah; I reckon I was feeling that way and maybe the reason was because they say it. Maybe that was the reason." that. Jesus, Mr. Max, when folks says things like that about you, you whipped before you born. What's the use? Yeah; I reckon I was feeling that way when I was in the room with her. They say we do things like that and they say it to kill us. They draw a line and say for you to stay on your side of the line. They don't care if there's no bread over on your side. They don't care if you die. And then they say things like that about you and when you try to come from behind your line they kill you. They feel they ought to kill you then. Everybody wants to kill you then. Yeah; I reckon I was feeling that way and maybe the reason was because they say it. Maybe that was the reason."

"You mean you wanted to defy them? You wanted to show them that you dared, that you didn't care?"

"I don't know, Mr. Max. But what I got to care about? I knew that some time or other they was going to get me for something. I'm black. I don't have to do nothing for 'em to get me. The first white finger they point at me, I'm a goner, see?"

"But, Bigger, when Mrs. Dalton came into that room, why didn't you stop right there and tell her what was wrong? You wouldn't've been in all this trouble then...."

"Mr. Max, so help me G.o.d, I couldn't do nothing when I turned around and saw that woman coming to that bed. Honest to G.o.d, I didn't know what I was doing...."

"You mean you went blank?"

"Naw; naw.... I knew what I was doing, all right. But I couldn't help it. That's what I mean. It was like another man stepped inside of my skin and started acting for me...."

"Bigger, tell me, did you feel more attraction for Mary than for the women of your own race?"

"Naw. But they say that. It ain't true. I hated her then and I hate her now."

"But why did you kill Bessie?"

"To keep her from talking. Mr. Max, after killing that white woman, it wasn't hard to kill somebody else. I didn't have to think much about killing Bessie. I knew I had to kill her and I did. I had to get away...."

"Did you hate Bessie?"

"Naw."

"Did you love her?"

"Naw. I was just scared. I wasn't in love with Bessie. She was just my girl. I don't reckon I was ever in love with n.o.body. I killed Bessie to save myself. You have to have a girl, so I had Bessie. And I killed her."

"Bigger, tell me, when did you start hating Mary?"

"I hated her as soon as she spoke to me, as soon as I saw her, I reckon I hated her before I saw her...."

"But, why why?"

"I told you. What her kind ever let us do?"

"What, exactly, Bigger, did you want to do?"

Bigger sighed and sucked at his cigarette.

"Nothing, I reckon. Nothing. But I reckon I wanted to do what other people do."

"And because you couldn't, you hated her?"

Again Bigger felt that his actions were not logical, and again he fell back upon his feelings for a guide in answering Max's questions.

"Mr. Max, a guy gets tired of being told what he can do and can't do. You get a little job here and a little job there. You s.h.i.+ne shoes, sweep streets; anything.... You don't make enough to live on. You don't know when you going to get fired. Pretty soon you get so you can't hope for nothing. You just keep moving all the time, doing what other folks say. You ain't a man no more. You just work day in and day out so the world can roll on and other people can live. You know, Mr. Max, I always think of white folks...."

He paused. Max leaned forward and touched him.

"Go on, Bigger."

"Well, they own everything. They choke you off the face of the earth. They like G.o.d...." He swallowed, closed his eyes and sighed. "They don't even let you feel what you want to feel. They after you so hot and hard you can only feel what they doing to you. They kill you before you die."

"But, Bigger, I asked you what it was that you wanted to do so badly that you had to hate them?"

"Nothing. I reckon I didn't want to do nothing."

"But you said that people like Mary and her kind never let you do anything."

"Why should I want to do anything? I ain't got a chance. I don't know nothing. I'm just black and they make the laws."

"What would you like to have been?"

Bigger was silent for a long time. Then he laughed without sound, without moving his lips; it was three short expulsions of breath forced upward through his nostrils by the heaving of his chest.

"I wanted to be an aviator once. But they wouldn't let me go to the school where I was suppose' to learn it. They built a big school and then drew a line around it and said that n.o.body could go to it but those who lived within the line. That kept all the colored boys out."

"And what else?"

"Well, I wanted to be in the army once."

"Why didn't you join?"

"h.e.l.l, it's a Jim Crow army. All they want a black man for is to dig ditches. And in the navy, all I can do is wash dishes and scrub floors."

"And was there anything else you wanted to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. What's the use now? I'm through, washed up. They got me. I'll die."

"Tell me the things you thought thought you'd have liked to do?" you'd have liked to do?"

"I'd like to be in business. But what chance has a black guy got in business? We ain't got no money. We don't own no mines, no railroads, no nothing. They don't want us to. They make us stay in one little spot...."

"And you didn't want to stay there?"

Bigger glanced up; his lips tightened. There was a feverish pride in his blood-shot eyes.

"I didn't didn't," he said.

Max stared and sighed.

"Look, Bigger. You've told me the things you could not do. But you did something. You committed these crimes. You killed two women. What on earth did you think you could get out of it?"

Bigger rose and rammed his hands into his pockets. He leaned against the wall, looking vacantly. Again he forgot that Max was in the room.

"I don't know. Maybe this sounds crazy. Maybe they going to burn me in the electric chair for feeling this way. But I ain't worried none about them women I killed. For a little while I was free. I was doing something. It was wrong, but I was feeling all right. Maybe G.o.d'll get me for it. If He do, all right. But I ain't worried. I killed 'em 'cause I was scared and mad. But I been scared and mad all my life and after I killed that first woman, I wasn't scared no more for a little while."

"What were you afraid of?"

"Everything," he breathed and buried his face in his hands.

"Did you ever hope for anything, Bigger?"

"What for? I couldn't get it. I'm black," he mumbled.

"Didn't you ever want to be happy?"

"Yeah; I guess so," he said, straightening.

"How did you think you could be happy?"

"I don't know. I wanted to do things. But everything I wanted to do I couldn't. I wanted to do what the white boys in school did. Some of 'em went to college. Some of'em went to the army. But I couldn't go."

"But still, you wanted to be happy?"

"Yeah; sure. Everybody wants to be happy, I reckon."

"Did you think you ever would be?"

"I don't know. I just went to bed at night and got up in the morning. I just lived from day to day. I thought maybe I would be."

"How?"

"I don't know," he said in a voice that was almost a moan.

"What did you think happiness would be like?"

"I don't know. It wouldn't be like this."

"You ought to have some idea of what you wanted, Bigger."

"Well, Mr. Max, if I was happy I wouldn't always be wanting to do something I know I couldn't do."

"And why did you always want to?"

"I couldn't help it. Everybody feels that way, I reckon. And I did, too. Maybe I would've been all right if I could've done something I wanted to do. I wouldn't be scared then. Or mad, maybe. I wouldn't be always hating folks; and maybe I'd feel at home, sort of."

"Did you ever go to the South Side Boys' Club, the place where Mr. Dalton sent those ping-pong tables?"

"Yeah; but what the h.e.l.l can a guy do with ping-pong?"

"Do you feel that that club kept you out of trouble?"

Bigger c.o.c.ked his head.

"Kept me out of trouble?" he repeated Max's words. "Naw; that's where we planned most of our jobs."

"Did you ever go to church, Bigger?"

"Yeah; when I was little. But that was a long time ago."

"Your folks were religious?"

"Yeah; they went to church all the time."

"Why did you stop going?"

"I didn't like it. There was nothing in it. Aw, all they did was sing and shout and pray all the time. And it didn't get 'em nothing. All the colored folks do that, but it don't get 'em nothing. The white folks got everything."

"Did you ever feel happy in church?"