Invisible man - Ralph Ellison [40]
Tears filled my eyes, and the walks and buildings flowed and froze for a moment in mist, glittering as in winter when rain froze on the grass and foliage and turned the campus into a world of whiteness, weighting and bending both trees and bushes with fruit of crystal. Then in the twinkling of my eyes, it was gone, and the here and now of heat and greenness returned. If only I could make Mr. Norton understand what the school meant to me.
"Shall I stop at your rooms, sir?" I said. "Or shall I take you to the administration building? Dr. Bledsoe might be worried."
"To my rooms, then bring Dr. Bledsoe to me," he answered tersely.
"Yes, sir."
In the mirror I saw him dabbing gingerly at his forehead with a crinkled handkerchief. "You'd better send the school physician to me also," he said.
I stopped the car in front of a small building with white pillars like those of an old plantation manor house, got out and opened the door.
"Mr. Norton, please, sir . . . I'm sorry . . . I --"
He looked at me sternly, his eyes narrowed, saying nothing.
"I didn't know . . . please . . ."
"Send Dr. Bledsoe to me," he said, turning away and swinging up the graveled path to the building.
I got back into the car and drove slowly to the administration building. A girl waved gaily as I passed, a bunch of violets in her hand. Two teachers in dark suits talked decorously beside a broken fountain.
The building was quiet. Going upstairs I visualized Dr. Bledsoe, with his broad globular face that seemed to take its form from the fat pressing from the inside, which, as air pressing against the membrane of a balloon, gave it shape and buoyancy. "Old Bucket-head," some of the fellows called him. I never had. He had been kind to me from the first, perhaps because of the letters which the school superintendent had sent to him when I arrived. But more than that, he was the example of everything I hoped to be: Influential with wealthy men all over the country; consulted in matters concerning the race; a leader of his people; the possessor of not one, but two Cadillacs, a good salary and a soft, good-looking and creamy-complexioned wife. What was more, while black and bald and everything white folks poked fun at, he had achieved power and authority; had, while black and wrinkle-headed, made himself of more importance in the world than most Southern white men. They could laugh at him but they couldn't ignore him.
"He's been looking all over for you," the girl at the desk said.
When I walked in he looked up from the telephone and said, "Never mind, he's here now," and hung up. "Where's Mr. Norton?" he demanded excitedly. "Is he all right?"
"Yes, sir. I left him at his rooms and came to drive you down. He wishes to see you."
"Is anything wrong?" he said, getting up hurriedly and coming around the desk. I hesitated.
"Well, is there!"
The panicky beating of my heart seemed to blur my vision.
"Not now, sir."
"Now? What do you mean?"
"Well, sir, he had some kind of fainting spell."
"Aw, my God! I knew something was wrong. Why didn't you get in touch with me?" He grabbed his black homburg, starting for the door. "Come on!"
I followed him, trying to explain. "He's all over it now, sir, and we were too far away for me to phone . . ."
"Why did you take him so far?" he said, moving with great bustling energy.
"But I drove him where he wanted to go, sir."
"Where was that?"
"Back of the slave-quarter section," I said with dread.
"The quarters! Boy, are you a fool? Didn't you know better