Invisible man - Ralph Ellison [171]
"Sho," MacAdams said.
"It cold enough?"
"Sho, but Barrel --"
"You like the groovy music on the juke?" Barrelhouse said.
"Hell, yes, but --"
"And you like our good, clean, sociable atmosphere?"
"Sho, but that ain't what I'm talking about," the man said.
"Yeah, but that's what I'm talking about," Barrelhouse said mournfully. "And if you like it, like it, and don't start trying to bug my other customers. This here man's done more for the community than you'll ever do."
"What community?" MacAdams said, cutting his eyes around toward me. "I hear he got the white fever and left . . ."
"You liable to hear anything," Barrelhouse said. "There's some paper back there in the gents' room. You ought to wipe out your ears."
"Never mind my ears."
"Aw come" on, Mac," his friend said. "Forgit it. Ain't the man done apologized?"
"I said never mind my ears," MacAdams said. "You just tell your brother he ought to be careful 'bout who he claims as kinfolks. Some of us don't think so much of his kind of politics."
I looked from one to the other. I considered myself beyond the stage of street-fighting, and one of the worst things I could do upon returning to the community was to engage in a brawl. I looked at MacAdams and was glad when the other man pushed him down the bar.
"That MacAdams thinks he's right," Barrelhouse said. "He's the kind caint nobody please. Be frank though, there's lots feel like that now."
I shook my head in bafflement. I'd never met that kind of antagonism before. "What's happened to Brother Maceo?" I said.
"I don't know, Brother. He don't come in so regular these days. Things are kinda changing up here. Ain't much money floating around."
"Times are hard everywhere. But what's been going on up here, Barrel?" I said.
"Oh, you know how it is, Brother; things are tight and lots of folks who got jobs through you people have lost them. You know how it goes."
"You mean people in our organization?"
"Quite a few of them are. Fellows like Brother Maceo."
"But why? They were doing all right."
"Sure they was -- as long as you people was fighting for 'em. But the minute y'all stopped, they started throwing folks out on the street."
I looked at him, big and sincere before me. It was unbelievable that the Brotherhood had stopped its work, and yet he wasn't lying. "Give me another beer," I said. Then someone called him from the back, and he drew the beer and left.
I drank it slowly, hoping Brother Maceo would appear before I had finished. When he didn't I waved to Barrelhouse and left for the district. Perhaps Brother Tarp could explain; or at least tell me something about Clifton.
I walked through the dark block over to Seventh and started down; things were beginning to look serious. Along the way I saw not a single sign of Brotherhood activity. In a hot side street I came upon a couple striking matches along the curb, kneeling as though looking for a lost coin, the matches flaring dimly in their faces. Then I found myself in a strangely familiar block and broke out in a sweat: I had walked almost to Mary's door, and turned now and hurried away.
Barrelhouse had prepared me for the darkened windows of the district, but not, when I let myself in, to call in vain through the dark to Brother Tarp. I went to the room where he slept, but he was not there; then I went through the dark hall to my old office and threw myself into my desk chair, exhausted. Everything seemed to be slipping away from me and I could find no quick absorbing action that would get it under control. I tried to think of whom among the district committee I might call for information concerning Clifton, but here again I was balked. For if I selected one who believed that I had requested to be transferred because I hated my own people it would only complicate matters. No doubt there would be some who'd resent my return, so it was best to confront them all at once without giving any one of them