A Death in the Family - James Agee [130]
“Why there you are,” her mother cried, and turning, Catherine was frightened by the fright and the tears on her face. “Didn’t you hear us?”
She shook her head, no.
“Why how could you help but—were you asleep?”
She nodded, yes.
“I thought she was with you, Amelia.”
“I thought she was with you or Mama.”
“Why, where on earth were you, darling? Heavens and earth, have you been all alone?”
Catherine nodded yes; her lower lip thrust out farther and farther and she felt her chin trembling and hated everybody.
“Why, bless your little heart, come to Mother”; her mother came toward her stooping with her arms stretched out and Catherine ran to her as fast as she could run, and plunged her head into her, and cried as if she were made only of tears; and it was only when her mother said, just as kindly, “Just look at your panties, why they’re sopping wet,” that she realized that indeed they were.
Andrew had never invited him to take a walk with him before, and he felt honored, and worked hard to keep up with him. He realized that now, maybe, he would hear about it, but he knew it would not be a good thing to ask. When they got well into the next block beyond his grandfather’s, and the houses and trees were unfamiliar, he took Andrew’s hand and Andrew took his primly, but did not press it or look down at him. Pretty soon maybe he’ll tell me, Rufus thought. Or anyway say something. But his uncle did not say anything. Looking up at him, from a half step behind him, Rufus could see that he looked mad about something. He looked ahead so fixedly that Rufus suspected he was not really looking at anything, even when they stepped from the curb, and stepped up from the curb across from it, his eyes did not change. He was frowning, and the corners of his nose were curled as if he smelled something bad. Did I do something? Rufus wondered. No, he wouldn’t ask me for a walk if I did. Yes, he would too if he was real mad and wanted to give me a talking-to and not raise a fuss about it there. But he won’t say anything, so I guess he doesn’t want to give me a talking-to. Maybe he’s thinking. Maybe about Daddy. The funeral. (He saw the sunlight on the hearse as it began to move.) What all did they do out there? They put him down in the ground and then they put all the flowers on top. Then they say their prayers and then they all come home again. In Greenwood Cemetery. He saw in his mind a clear image of Greenwood Cemetery; it was on a low hill and among many white stones there were many green trees through which the wind blew in the sunlight, and in the middle there was a heap of flowers and beneath the flowers, in his closed coffin, looking exactly as he had looked this morning, lay his father. Only it was dark, so he could not be seen. It would always be dark there. Dark as the inside of a cow.
The sun’s agonna shine, and the wind’s agonna blow.
The charcoal scraping of the needle against the record was in his ears and he saw the many sharp, grinning teeth in Buster Brown’s dog.
“If anything ever makes me believe in God,” his uncle said.
Rufus looked up at him quickly. He was still looking straight ahead, and he still looked angry but his voice was not angry. “Or life after death,” his uncle said.
They were working and breathing rather hard, for they were walking westward up the steep hill towards Fort Sanders. The sky ahead of them was bright and they walked among the bright, moving shadows of trees.
“It’ll be what happened this afternoon.”
Rufus looked up at him carefully.
“There were a lot of clouds,” his uncle said, and continued to look straight before him, “but they were blowing fast, so there was a lot of sunshine too. Right when they began to lower