Invisible man - Ralph Ellison [61]
"Well, sir, I'd like to ask a favor of you . . ."
"Favor," he said shrewdly. "Now that's another matter. What kind of favor?"
"It isn't much, sir. You suggested that you would put me in touch with some of the trustees who would give me a job. I'm willing to do anything."
"Oh, yes," he said, "yes, of course." .
He seemed to think for a moment, his eyes studying the objects on his desk. Then touching the shackle gently with his index finger, he said, "Very well. When do you intend to leave?"
"By the first bus, if possible, sir."
"Are you packed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. Go get your bags and return here in thirty minutes. My secretary will give you some letters addressed to several friends of the school. One of them will do something for you."
"Thanks, sir. Thank you very much," I said as he stood.
"That's all right," he said. "The school tries to look out for its own. Only one thing more. These letters will be sealed; don't open them if you want help. White folk are strict about such things. The letters will introduce you and request them to help you with a job. I'll do my best for you and it isn't necessary for you to open them, understand?"
"Oh, I wouldn't think of opening them, sir," I said.
"Very well, the young lady will have them for you when you return. What about your parents, have you informed them?"
"No, sir, it might make them feel too bad if I told them I was expelled, so I plan to write them after I get there and get a job . . ."
"I see. Perhaps that is best."
"Well, good-bye, sir," I said, extending my hand.
"Good-bye," he said. His hand was large and strangely limp.
He pressed a buzzer as I turned to leave. His secretary brushed past me as I went through the door.
The letters were waiting when I returned, seven of them, addressed to men with impressive names. I looked for Mr. Norton's but his was not among them. Placing them carefully in my inside pocket, I grabbed my bags and hurried for the bus.
Chapter 7
The station was empty, but the ticket window was open and a porter in a gray uniform was pushing a broom. I bought my ticket and climbed into the bus. There were only two passengers seated at the rear of the red and nickel interior, and I suddenly felt that I was dreaming. It was the vet, who gave me a smile of recognition; an attendant sat beside him.
"Welcome, young man," he called. "Imagine, Mr. Crenshaw," he said to the attendant, "we have a traveling companion!"
"Morning," I said reluctantly. I looked around for a seat away from them, but although the bus was almost empty, only the rear was reserved for us and there was nothing to do but move back with them. I didn't like it; the vet was too much a part of an experience which I was already trying to blot out of my consciousness. His way of talking to Mr. Norton had been a foreshadowing of my misfortune -- just as I had sensed that it would be. Now having accepted my punishment, I wanted to remember nothing connected with Trueblood or the Golden Day.
Crenshaw, a much smaller man than Supercargo, said nothing. He was not the type usually sent out to accompany violent cases and I was glad until I remembered that the only violent thing about the vet was his tongue. His mouth had already gotten me into trouble and now I hoped he wouldn't turn it upon the white driver -- that was apt to get us killed. What was he doing on the bus anyway? God, how had Dr. Bledsoe worked that fast? I stared at the fat man.
"How did your friend Mr. Norton make out?" he asked.
"He's okay," I said.
"No more fainting spells?"
"No."
"Did he bawl you out for what happened?"
"He didn't blame me," I said.
"Good. I think I shocked him more than anything else he saw at the Golden Day. I hoped I hadn't caused you trouble. School isn't out so soon, is it?"
"Not quite," I said lightly. "I'm leaving early in order to take a job."
"Wonderful! At home?"
"No, I thought I might make more money in New York."
"New York!" he said. "That's not a place, it's a dream. When I was your age it was Chicago. Now all the little black boys run away to