A Death in the Family - James Agee [74]
“That’s why it took him so long to come,” Mary said. “As if his very soul had been struck unconscious.”
“I should think maybe.”
“And above all with someone like Jay, young, and with children and a wife, and not even dreaming of such a thing coming on him, no time to adjust his mind and feelings, or prepare for it.”
“That’s just it,” Andrew said; Hannah nodded.
“Why he’d feel, ‘I’m worried. This came too fast without warning. There are all kinds of things I’ve got to tend to. I can’t just leave them like this.’ Wouldn’t he! And that’s just how he was, how we felt he was. So anxious. So awfully concerned, and disturbed. Why yes, it’s just exactly the way it was!
“And only when they feel convinced you know they care, and everything’s going to be taken good care of, just the very best possible, it’s only then they can stop being anxious and begin to rest.”
They nodded and for a minute they were all quiet.
Then Mary said tenderly, “How awful, pitiful, beyond words it must be, to be so terribly anxious for others, for others’ good, and not be able to do anything, even to say so. Not even to help. Poor things.
“Oh, they do need reassuring. They do need rest. I’m so grateful I could assure him. It’s so good he can rest at last. I’m so glad.” And her heart was restored from its desolation, into warmth and love and almost into wholeness.
Again they were all thoughtfully silent, and into this silence Joel spoke quietly and slowly, “I don‘t—know. I just—don’t—know. Every bit of gumption I’ve got tells me it’s impossible, but if this kind of thing is so, it isn’t with gumption that you see it is. I just—don’t—know.
“If you’re right, and I’m wrong, then chances are you’re right about the whole business, God, and the whole crew. And in that case I’m just a plain damned fool.
“But if I can’t trust my common sense—I know it’s nothing much, Poll, but it’s all I’ve got. If I can’t trust that, what in hell can I trust!
“God, you’n Hannah’d say. Far’s I’m concerned, it’s out of the question.”
“Why, Joel?”
“It doesn’t seem to embarrass your idea of common sense, or Poll’s, and for that matter I’m making no reflections. You’re got plenty of gumption. But how you can reconcile the two, I can’t see.”
“It takes faith, Papa,” Mary said gently.
“That’s the word. That’s the one makes a mess of everything, far’s I’m concerned. Bounces up like a jack-in-the-box. Solves everything.
“Well it doesn’t solve anything for me, for I haven’t got any.
“Wouldn’t hurt it if I had. Don’t believe in it.
“Not for me.
“For you, for anyone that can manage it, all right. More power to you. Might be glad if I could myself. But I can’t.
“I’m not exactly an atheist, you know. Least I don’t suppose I am. Seems as unfounded to me to say there isn’t a God as to say there is. You can’t prove it either way. But that’s it: I’ve got to have proof. And on anything can’t be proved, be damned if I’ll jump either way. All I can say is, I hope you’re wrong but I just don’t know.”
“I don’t, either,” Andrew said. “But I hope it’s so.”
He saw Mary and Hannah look at him hopefully.
“I don’t mean the whole business,” he said. “I don’t know anything about that. I just mean tonight.”
Can’t eat your cake and have it, his father thought.
Like slapping a child in the face, Andrew thought; he had been rougher than he had intended.
“But, Andrew dear,” Mary was about to say, but she caught herself. What a thing to argue about, she thought; and what a time to be wrangling about it!
Each of them realized that the others felt something of this; for a little while none of them had anything to say. Finally Andrew said, “I’m sorry.”
“Never mind,” his sister said. “It’s all right, Andrew.”
“We just each believe what we’re able,” Hannah said, after a moment.
“Even you, Joel. You have faith in your mind. Your reason.”
“Not very much: all I’ve got, that’s all. All I can be sure of.”
“That’s all I mean.”
“Let’s not talk about it any more,