Native Son - Richard Wright [104]
Bigger’s lips tightened. There was no chance of his getting that money now. They had found Mary and would stop at nothing to get the one who had killed her. There would be a thousand white policemen on the South Side searching for him or any black man who looked like him.
He pressed the bell and waited for the buzzer to ring. Was she there? Again he pressed the bell, holding his finger hard upon it until the door buzzed. He bounded up the steps, sucking his breath in sharply at each lift of his knees. When he reached the second landing he was breathing so hard that he stopped, closed his eyes and let his chest heave itself to stillness. He glanced up and saw Bessie staring sleepily at him through the half-opened door. He went in and stood for a moment in the darkness.
“Turn on the light,” he said.
“Bigger! What’s happened?”
“Turn on the light!”
She said nothing and did not move. He groped forward, sweeping the air with his open palm for the cord; he found it and jerked on the light. Then he whirled and looked about him, expecting to see someone lurking in the corners of the room.
“What’s happened?” She came forward and touched his clothes. “You’re wet.”
“It’s all off,” he said.
“I don’t have to do it?” she asked eagerly.
Yes; she was thinking only of herself now. He was alone.
“Bigger, tell me what happened?”
“They know all about it. They’ll be after me soon.”
Her eyes were too filled with fear to cry. He walked about aimlessly and his shoes left rings of dirty water on the wooden floor.
“Tell me, Bigger! Please!”
She was wanting the word that would free her of this nightmare; but he would not give it to her. No; let her be with him; let somebody be with him now. She caught hold of his coat and he felt her body trembling.
“Will they come for me, too, Bigger? I didn’t want to do it!”
Yes; he would let her know, let her know everything; but let her know it in a way that would bind her to him, at least a little longer. He did not want to be alone now.
“They found the girl,” he said.
“What we going to do, Bigger? Look what you done to me….”
She began to cry.
“Aw, come on, kid.”
“You really killed her?”
“She’s dead,” he said. “They found her.”
She ran to the bed, fell upon it and sobbed. With her mouth all twisted and her eyes wet, she asked in gasps:
“Y-y-you d-didn’t send the l-letter?”
“Yeah.”
“Bigger,” she whimpered.
“There ain’t no help for it now.”
“Oh, Lord! They’ll come for me. They’ll know you did it and they’ll go to your home and talk to your ma and brother and everybody. They’ll come for me now sure.”
That was true. There was no way for her but to come with him. If she stayed here they would come to her and she would simply lie on the bed and sob out everything. She would not be able to help it. And what she would tell them about him, his habits, his life, would help them to track him down.
“You got the money?”
“It’s in my dress pocket.”
“How much is it?”
“Ninety dollars.”
“Well, what you planning to do?” he asked.
“I wish I could kill myself.”
“Ain’t no use talking that way.”
“There ain’t no way else to talk.”
It was a shot in the dark, but he decided to try it.
“If you don’t act better’n this, I’ll just leave.”
“Naw; naw…. Bigger!” she cried, rising and running to him.
“Well, snap out of it,” he said, backing to a chair. He sat down and felt how tired he was. Some strength he did not know he possessed had enabled him to run away, to stand here and talk with her; but now he felt that he would not have strength enough to run even if the police should suddenly burst into the room.
“You h-hurt?” she asked, catching hold of his shoulder.
He leaned forward in the chair and rested his face in the palms of his hands.
“Bigger, what’s the matter?”
“I’m tired and awful sleepy,” he sighed.
“Let me fix you something to eat.”
“I need a drink.”
“Naw; no whiskey. You need some hot milk.”
He waited, hearing her move about. It seemed that his body had turned to a piece of lead that was cold and heavy and