Native Son - Richard Wright [38]
“Well,” Jan sighed. “If that’s the way you feel about it, we won’t go in.”
Bigger felt trapped. Oh, Goddamn! He saw in a flash that he could have made all of this very easy if he had simply acted from the beginning as if they were doing nothing unusual. But he did not understand them; he distrusted them, really hated them. He was puzzled as to why they were treating him this way. But, after all, this was his job and it was just as painful to sit here and let them stare at him as it was to go in.
“O.K.,” he mumbled angrily.
He got out and slammed the door. Mary came close to him and caught his arm. He stared at her in a long silence; it was the first time he had ever looked directly at her, and he was able to do so only because he was angry.
“Bigger,” she said, “you don’t have to come in unless you really want to. Please, don’t think…. Oh, Bigger…. We’re not trying to make you feel badly….”
Her voice stopped. In the dim light of the street lamp Bigger saw her eyes cloud and her lips tremble. She swayed against the car He stepped backward, as though she were contaminated with an invisible contagion. Jan slipped his arm about her waist, supporting her. Bigger heard her sob softly. Good God! He had a wild impulse to turn around and walk away. He felt ensnared in a tangle of deep shadows, shadows as black as the night that stretched above his head. The way he had acted had made her cry, and yet the way she had acted had made him feel that he had to act as he had toward her. In his relations with her he felt that he was riding a seesaw; never were they on a common level; either he or she was up in the air. Mary dried her eyes and Jan whispered something to her. Bigger wondered what he could say to his mother, or the relief, or Mr. Dalton, if he left them. They would be sure to ask why he had walked off his job, and he would not be able to tell.
“I’m all right, now, Jan,” he heard Mary say. “I’m sorry. I’m just a fool, I suppose…. I acted a ninny.” She lifted her eyes to Bigger. “Don’t mind me, Bigger. I’m just silly, I guess….”
He said nothing.
“Come on, Bigger,” Jan said in a voice that sought to cover up everything. “Let’s eat.”
Jan caught his arm and tried to pull him forward, but Bigger hung back. Jan and Mary walked toward the entrance of the cafe and Bigger followed, confused and resentful. Jan went to a small table near a wall.
“Sit down, Bigger.”
Bigger sat. Jan and Mary sat in front of him.
“You like fried chicken?” Jan asked.
“Yessuh,” he whispered.
He scratched his head. How on earth could he learn not to say yessuh and yessum to white people in one night when he had been saying it all his life long? He looked before him in such a way that his eyes would not meet theirs. The waitress came and Jan ordered three beers and three portions of fried chicken.
“Hi, Bigger!”
He turned and saw Jack waving at him, but staring at Jan and Mary. He waved a stiff palm in return. Goddamn! Jack walked away hurriedly. Cautiously, Bigger looked round; the waitresses and several people at other tables were staring at him. They all knew him and he knew that they were wondering as he would have wondered if he had been in their places. Mary touched his arm.
“Have you ever been here before, Bigger?”
He groped for neutral words, words that would convey information but not indicate any shade of his own feelings.
“A few times.”
“It’s very nice,” Mary said.
Somebody put a nickel in an automatic phonograph and they listened to the music. Then Bigger felt a hand grab his shoulder.
“Hi, Bigger! Where you been?”
He looked up and saw Bessie laughing in his face.
“Hi,” he said gruffly.
“Oh, ’scuse me. I didn’t know you had company,” she said, walking away with her eyes upon Jan and Mary.
“Tell her to come over, Bigger,” Mary said.
Bessie had gone to a far table and was sitting with another girl.
“She’s over there now,” Bigger said.
The waitress brought the beer and chicken.
“This is simply grand!” Mary exclaimed.
“You got something there,” Jan said, looking at Bigger. “Did I say that right, Bigger?”
Bigger hesitated.