Native Son - Richard Wright [54]
“I—I just thought you was kind of nervous. I wanted to help you, that’s all. I—I just thought….”
“How come you think that?”
Buddy held out a roll of bills in his hand.
“You dropped it on the floor,” he said.
Bigger stepped back, thunder-struck. He felt in his pocket for the money; it was not there. He took the money from Buddy and stuffed it hurriedly in his pocket.
“Did Ma see it?”
“Naw.”
He gazed at Buddy in a long silence. He knew that Buddy was yearning to be with him, aching to share his confidence; but that could not happen now. He caught Buddy’s arm in a tight grip.
“Listen, don’t tell nobody, see? Here,” he said, taking out the roll and peeling off a bill. “Here; take this and buy something. But don’t tell nobody.”
“Gee! Thanks. I—I won’t tell. But can I help you?”
“Naw; naw….”
Buddy started back up the steps.
“Wait,” Bigger said.
Buddy came back and stood facing him, his eyes eager, shining. Bigger looked at him, his body as taut as that of an animal about to leap. But his brother would not betray him. He could trust Buddy. He caught Buddy’s arm again and squeezed it until Buddy flinched with pain.
“Don’t you tell nobody, hear?”
“Naw; naw…. I won’t….”
“Go on back, now.”
Buddy ran up the steps, out of sight. Bigger stood brooding in the shadows of the stairway. He thrust the feeling from him, not with shame, but with impatience. He had felt toward Buddy for an instant as he had felt toward Mary when she lay upon the bed with the white blur moving toward him in the hazy blue light of the room. But he won’t tell, he thought.
He went down the steps and into the street. The air was cold and the snow had stopped. Overhead the sky was clearing a little. As he neared the corner drug store, which stayed open all night, he wondered if any of the gang was around. Maybe Jack or G.H. was hanging out and had not gone home, as they sometimes did. Though he felt he was cut off from them forever, he had a strange hankering for their presence. He wanted to know how he would feel if he saw them again. Like a man reborn, he wanted to test and taste each thing now to see how it went; like a man risen up well from a long illness, he felt deep and wayward whims.
He peered through the frosted glass; yes, G.H. was there. He opened the door and went in. G.H. sat at the fountain, talking to the soda-jerker. Bigger sat next to him. They did not speak. Bigger bought two packages of cigarettes and shoved one of them to G.H., who looked at him in surprise.
“This for me?” G.H. asked.
Bigger waved his palm and pulled down the corners of his lips.
“Sure.”
G.H. opened the pack.
“Jesus, I sure needed one. Say, you working now?”
“Yeah.”
“How you like it?”
“Swell.”
“Jack was telling me you saw the gal in the movie you suppose to drive around. Did you?”
“Sure.”
“How is she?”
“Aw, we like that,” Bigger said, crossing his fingers. He was trembling with excitement; sweat was on his forehead. He was excited and something was impelling him to become more excited. It was like a thirst springing from his blood. The door opened and Jack came in.
“Say, how is it, Bigger?”
Bigger wagged his head.
“Honky dory,” he said. “Here; gimme another pack of cigarettes,” he told the clerk. “This is for you, Jack.”
“Jesus, you in clover, sure ’nough,” Jack said, glimpsing the thick roll of bills.
“Where’s Gus?” Bigger asked.
“He’ll be along in a minute. We been hanging out at Clara’s all night.”
The door opened again; Bigger turned and saw Gus step inside. Gus paused.
“Now, you-all don’t fight,” Jack said.
Bigger bought another package of cigarettes and tossed it toward Gus. Gus caught it and stood, bewildered.
“Aw, come on, Gus. Forget it,” Bigger said.
Gus came forward slowly; he opened the package and lit one.
“Bigger, you sure is crazy,” Gus said with a shy smile.
Bigger knew that Gus was glad that the fight was over. Bigger was not afraid of them now; he sat with his feet propped upon his suitcase, looking from one to the other with a quiet smile.
“Lemme have a dollar,”