Native Son - Richard Wright [27]
“All right. Come this way.”
He started at the sound of a man’s voice.
“Suh?”
“Come this way.”
Misjudging how far back he was sitting in the chair, his first attempt to rise failed and he slipped back, resting on his side Grabbing the arms of the chair, he pulled himself upright and found a tall, lean, white-haired man holding a piece of paper in his hand. The man was gazing at him with an amused smile that made him conscious of every square inch of skin on his black body.
“Thomas?” the man asked. “Bigger Thomas?”
“Yessuh,” he whispered; not speaking, really; but hearing his words roll involuntarily from his lips.
“Come this way.”
“Yessuh.”
He followed the man out of the room and down a hall. The man stopped abruptly. Bigger paused, bewildered; then he saw coming slowly toward him a tall, thin, white woman, walking silently, her hands lifted delicately in the air and touching the walls to either side of her. Bigger stepped back to let her pass. Her face and hair were completely white; she seemed to him like a ghost. The man took her arm gently and held her for a moment. Bigger saw that she was old and her grey eyes looked stony.
“Are you all right?” the man asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Where’s Peggy?”
“She’s preparing dinner. I’m quite all right, Henry.”
The man let go of the woman and she walked on slowly, the long white fingers of her hands just barely touching the walls Behind the woman, following at the hem of her dress, was a big white cat, pacing without sound. She’s blind! Bigger thought in amazement.
“Come on; this way,” the man said.
“Yessuh.”
He wondered if the man had seen him staring at the woman. He would have to be careful here. There were so many strange things. He followed the man into a room.
“Sit down.”
“Yessuh,” he said, sitting.
“That was Mrs. Dalton,” the man said. “She’s blind.”
“Yessuh.”
“She has a very deep interest in colored people.”
“Yessuh,” Bigger whispered. He was conscious of the effort to breathe; he licked his lips and fumbled nervously with his cap.
“Well, I’m Mr. Dalton.”
“Yessuh.”
“Do you think you’d like driving a car?”
“Oh, yessuh.”
“Did you bring the paper?”
“Suh?”
“Didn’t the relief give you a note to me?”
“Oh, yessuh!”
He had completely forgotten about the paper. He stood to reach into his vest pocket and, in doing so, dropped his cap. For a moment his impulses were deadlocked; he did not know if he should pick up his cap and then find the paper, or find the paper and then pick up his cap. He decided to pick up his cap.
“Put your cap here,” said Mr. Dalton, indicating a place on his desk.
“Yessuh.”
Then he was stone-still; the white cat bounded past him and leaped upon the desk; it sat looking at him with large placid eyes and mewed plaintively.
“What’s the matter, Kate?” Mr. Dalton asked, stroking the cat’s fur and smiling. Mr. Dalton turned back to Bigger. “Did you find it?”
“Nawsuh. But I got it here, somewhere.”
He hated himself at that moment. Why was he acting and feeling this way? He wanted to wave his hand and blot out the white man who was making him feel this. If not that, he wanted to blot himself out. He had not raised his eyes to the level of Mr. Dalton’s face once since he had been in the house. He stood with his knees slightly bent, his lips partly open, his shoulders stooped; and his eyes held a look that went only to the surface of things. There was an organic conviction in him that this was the way white folks wanted him to be when in their presence; none had ever told him that in so many words, but their manner had made him feel that they did. He laid the cap down, noticing that Mr. Dalton was watching him closely. Maybe he was not acting right? Goddamn Clumsily, he searched for the paper. He could not find it at first and he felt called upon to say something for taking so long.
“I had it right here in my vest pocket,” he mumbled.
“Take your time.”
“Oh, here it is.”
He drew the paper forth. It was crumpled and soiled. Nervously, he straightened