Invisible man - Ralph Ellison [167]
"Never mind," she cooed, looking into my eyes.
"But be reasonable," I said, pushing her aside. "What about that door?"
"Oh, of course, you mean the telephone, don't you, darling?"
"But your old man -- your husband?"
"In Chicago --"
"But he might not --"
"No, no, darling, he won't --"
"But he might!"
"But, Brother, darling, I talked with him, I know."
"You what? What kind of game is this?"
"Oh, you poor darling! It isn't a game, really you have no cause to worry, we're free. He's in Chicago, seeking his lost youth, no doubt," she said, bursting into laughter of self-surprise. "He's not at all interested in uplifting things -- freedom and necessity, woman's rights and all that. You know, the sickness of our class -- Brother, darling."
I took a step across the room; there was another door to my left through which I saw the gleam of chromium and tile.
"Brotherhood, darling," she said, gripping my biceps with her little hands. "Teach me, talk to me. Teach me the beautiful ideology of Brotherhood." And I wanted both to smash her and to stay with her and knew that I should do neither. Was she trying to ruin me, or was this a trap set by some secret enemy of the movement waiting outside the door with cameras and wrecking bars?
"You should answer the phone," I said with forced calm, trying to release my hands without touching her, for if I touched her --
"And you'll continue?" she said.
I nodded, seeing her turn without a word and go toward a vanity with a large oval mirror, taking up an ivory telephone. And in the mirrored instant I saw myself standing between her eager form and a huge white bed, myself caught in a guilty stance, my face taut, tie dangling; and behind the bed another mirror which now like a surge of the sea tossed our images back and forth, back and forth, furiously multiplying the time and the place and the circumstance. My vision seemed to pulse alternately clear and vague, driven by a furious bellows, as her lips said soundlessly, I'm sorry, and then impatiently into the telephone, "Yes, this is she," and then to me again, smiling as she covered the mouthpiece with her hand, "It's only my sister; it'll only take a second." And my mind whirled with forgotten stories of male servants summoned to wash the mistress's back; chauffeurs sharing the masters' wives; Pullman porters invited into the drawing room of rich wives headed for Reno -- thinking, But this is the movement, the Brotherhood. And now I saw her smile, saying, "Yes, Gwen, dear. Yes," as one free hand went up as though to smooth her hair and in one swift motion the red robe swept aside like a veil, and I went breathless, at the petite and generously curved nude, framed delicate and firm in the glass. It was like a dream interval and in an instant it swung back and I saw only her mysteriously smiling eyes above the rich red robe.
I was heading for the door, torn between anger and a fierce excitement, hearing the phone click down as I started past and feeling her swirl against me and I was lost, for the conflict between the ideological and the biological, duty and desire, had become too subtly confused. I went to her, thinking, Let them break down the door, whosoever will, let them come.
I DIDN'T know whether I was awake or dreaming. It was dead quiet, yet I was certain that there had been a noise and that it had come from across the room as she beside me made a soft sighing sound. It was strange. My mind revolved. I was chased out of a chinkapin woods by a bull. I ran up a hill; the whole hill heaved. I heard the sound and looked up to see the man looking straight at me from where he stood in the dim light of the hall, looking in with neither interest nor surprise. His face expressionless, his eyes staring. There was the sound of even breathing. Then I heard her stir beside me.
"Oh, hello, dear," she said, her voice sounding far away. "Back so soon?"
"Yes," he said. "Wake me early, I have a lot to do."
"I'll remember, dear," she said sleepily. "Have a good night's rest . . ."
"Night, and you too,"