Native Son - Richard Wright [40]
“Say, how’s about your working with me, in the office?”
“No, I want to work among Negroes. That’s where people are needed. It seems as though they’ve been pushed out of every thing.”
“That’s true.”
“When I see what they’ve done to those people, it makes me so mad….”
“Yes; it’s awful.”
“And I feel so helpless and useless. I want to do something.”
“I knew all along you’d come through.”
“Say, Jan, do you know many Negroes? I want to meet some.”
“I don’t know any very well. But you’ll meet them when you’re in the Party.”
“They have so much emotion! What a people! If we could ever get them going….”
“We can’t have a revolution without ’em,” Jan said. “They’ve got to be organized. They’ve got spirit. They’ll give the Party something it needs.”
“And their songs—the spirituals! Aren’t they marvelous?” Bigger saw her turn to him. “Say, Bigger, can you sing?”
“I can’t sing,” he said.
“Aw, Bigger,” she said, pouting. She tilted her head, closed her eyes and opened her mouth.
“Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming fer to carry me home….”
Jan joined in and Bigger smiled derisively. Hell, that ain’t the tune, he thought.
“Come on, Bigger, and help us sing it,” Jan said.
“I can’t sing,” he said again.
They were silent. The car purred along. Then he heard Jan speaking in low tones.
“Where’s the bottle?”
“Right here.”
“I want a sip.”
“I’ll take one, too, honey.”
“Going heavy tonight, ain’t you?”
“About as heavy as you.”
They laughed. Bigger drove in silence. He heard the faint, musical gurgle of liquor.
“Jan!”
“What?”
“That was a big sip!”
“Here; you get even.”
Through the rear mirror he saw her tilt the bottle and drink.
“Maybe Bigger wants another one, Jan. Ask him.”
“Oh, say, Bigger! Here; take a swig!”
He slowed the car and reached back for the bottle; he tilted it twice, taking two huge swallows.
“Woooow!” Mary laughed.
“You took a swig, all right,” Jan said.
Bigger wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued driving slowly through the dark park. Now and then he heard the half-empty bottle of rum gurgling. They getting plastered, he thought, feeling the effect of the rum creeping outward to his fingers and upward to his lips. Presently, he heard Mary giggle. Hell, she’s plastered already! The car rolled slowly round and round the sloping curves. The rum’s soft heat was spreading fanwise out from his stomach, engulfing his whole body. He was not driving; he was simply sitting and floating along smoothly through darkness. His hands rested lightly on the steering wheel and his body slouched lazily down in the seat. He looked at the mirror; Mary was lying flat on her back in the rear seat and Jan was bent over her. He saw a faint sweep of white thigh. They plastered, all right, he thought. He pulled the car softly round the curves, looking at the road before him one second and up at the mirror the next. He heard Jan whispering; then he heard them both sigh. Filled with a sense of them, his muscles grew gradually taut. He sighed and sat up straight, fighting off the stiffening feeling in his loins. But soon he was slouched again. His lips were numb. I’m almost drunk, he thought. His sense of the city and park fell away; he was floating in the car and Jan and Mary were in back, kissing, spooning. A long time passed. Jan sat up and pulled Mary with him.
“It’s one o’clock, honey,” Mary said. “I better go in.”
“O.K. But let’s drive a little more. It’s great here.”
“Father says I’m a bad girl.”
“I’m sorry, darling.”
“I’ll call you in the morning before I go.”
“Sure. What time?”
“About eight-thirty.”
“Gee, but I hate to see you go to Detroit.”
“I hate to go too. But I got to. You see, honey, I got to make up for being bad with you down in Florida. I got to do what Mother and Father say for awhile.”
“I hate to see you go just the same.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“A couple of days is a long time.”
“You’re silly, but you’re sweet,” she said, laughing and kissing him.
“You better drive on, Bigger,” Jan called.
He swung the car out of the park and