Native Son - Richard Wright [53]
He did not need any money, for he had the money he had gotten from Mary’s purse; but he wanted to cover his tracks carefully.
“You got any money, Ma?”
“Just a little, Bigger.”
“I need some.”
“Here’s a half. That leaves me exactly one dollar to last till Wednesday.”
He put the half-dollar in his pocket. Buddy had finished dressing and was sitting on the edge of the bed. Suddenly, he saw Buddy, saw him in the light of Jan. Buddy was soft and vague; his eyes were defenseless and their glance went only to the surface of things. It was strange that he had not noticed that before. Buddy, too, was blind. Buddy was sitting there longing for a job like his. Buddy, too, went round and round in a groove and did not see things. Buddy’s clothes hung loosely compared with the way Jan’s hung. Buddy seemed aimless, lost, with no sharp or hard edges, like a chubby puppy. Looking at Buddy and thinking of Jan and Mr. Dalton, he saw in Buddy a certain stillness, an isolation, meaninglessness.
“How come you looking at me that way, Bigger?”
“Hunh?”
“You looking at me so funny.”
“I didn’t know it. I was thinking.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
His mother came into the room with more plates of food and he saw how soft and shapeless she was. Her eyes were tired and sunken and darkly ringed from a long lack of rest. She moved about slowly, touching objects with her fingers as she passed them, using them for support. Her feet dragged over the wooden floor and her face held an expression of tense effort. Whenever she wanted to look at anything, even though it was near her, she turned her entire head and body to see it and did not shift her eyes. There was in her heart, it seemed, a heavy and delicately balanced burden whose weight she did not want to assume by disturbing it one whit. She saw him looking at her.
“Eat your breakfast, Bigger.”
“I’m eating.”
Vera brought her plate and sat opposite him. Bigger felt that even though her face was smaller and smoother than his mother’s, the beginning of the same tiredness was already there. How different Vera was from Mary! He could see it in the very way Vera moved her hand when she carried the fork to her mouth; she seemed to be shrinking from life in every gesture she made. The very manner in which she sat showed a fear so deep as to be an organic part of her; she carried the food to her mouth in tiny bits, as if dreading its choking her, or fearing that it would give out too quickly.
“Bigger!” Vera wailed.
“Hunh?”
“You stop now,” Vera said, laying aside her fork and slapping her hand through the air at him.
“What?”
“Stop looking at me, Bigger!”
“Aw, shut up and eat your breakfast!”
“Ma, make ’im stop looking at me!”
“I ain’t looking at her, Ma!”
“You is!” Vera said.
“Eat your breakfast, Vera, and hush,” said the mother.
“He just keeps watching me, Ma!”
“Gal, you crazy!” said Bigger.
“I ain’t no crazy’n you!”
“Now, both of you hush,” said the mother.
“I ain’t going to eat with him watching me,” Vera said, getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Go on and eat your grub!” Bigger said, leaping to his feet and grabbing his cap. “I’m getting out of here.”
“What’s wrong with you, Vera?” Buddy asked.
“’Tend to your business!” Vera said, tears welling to her eyes.
“Will you children please hush,” the mother wailed.
“Ma, you oughtn’t let ’im treat me that way,” Vera said.
Bigger picked up his suitcase. Vera came back to the table, drying her eyes.
“When will I see you again, Bigger?” the mother asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, slamming the door.
He was halfway down the steps when he heard his name called.
“Say, Bigger!”
He stopped and looked back. Buddy was running down the steps. He waited, wondering what was wrong.
“What you want?”
Buddy stood before him, diffident, smiling.
“I—I….”
“What’s the matter?”
“Shucks, I just thought….”
Bigger stiffened with fright.
“Say, what you so excited about?”
“Aw, I reckon it ain’t nothing. I just thought maybe you was in trouble….”
Bigger mounted the steps and stood close to Buddy.
“Trouble?