Native Son - Richard Wright [63]
The car stopped a block from Bessie’s home and he got off. When he reached the building in which she lived, he looked up to the second floor and saw a light burning in her window. The street lamps came on suddenly, lighting up the snow-covered sidewalks with a yellow sheen. It had gotten dark early. The lamps were round hazy balls of light frozen into motionlessness, anchored in space and kept from blowing away in the icy wind by black steel posts. He went in and rang the bell and, in answer to a buzzer, mounted the stairs and found Bessie smiling at him in her door.
“Hello, stranger!”
“Hi, Bessie.”
He stood face to face with her, then reached for her hands. She shied away.
“What’s the matter?”
“You know what’s the matter.”
“Naw, I don’t.”
“What you reaching for me for?”
“I want to kiss you, honey.”
“You don’t want to kiss me.”
“Why?”
“I ought to be asking you that.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I saw you with your white friends last night.”
“Aw; they wasn’t my friends.”
“Who was they?”
“I work for ’em.”
“And you eat with ’em.”
“Aw, Bessie….”
“You didn’t even speak to me.”
“I did!”
“You just growled and waved your hand.”
“Aw, baby. I was working then. You understand.”
“I thought maybe you was ’shamed of me, sitting there with that white gal all dressed in silk and satin.”
“Aw, hell, Bessie. Come on. Don’t act that way.”
“You really want to kiss me?”
“Sure. What you think I came here for?”
“How come you so long seeing me, then?”
“I told you I been working, honey. You saw me last night. Come on. Don’t act this way.”
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head.
He knew that she was trying to see how badly he wanted her, trying to see how much power she still had over him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, kissing her long and hard, feeling as he did so that she was not responding. When he took his lips away he looked at her with eyes full of reproach and at the same time he felt his teeth clamping and his lips tingling slightly with rising passion.
“Let’s go in,” he said.
“If you want to.”
“Sure I want to.”
“You stayed away so long.”
“Aw, don’t be that way.”
They went in.
“How come you acting so cold tonight?” he asked.
“You could have dropped me a postcard,” she said.
“Aw, I just forgot it.”
“Or you could’ve phoned.”
“Honey, I was busy.”
“Looking at that old white gal, I reckon.”
“Aw, hell!”
“You don’t love me no more.”
“The hell I don’t.”
“You could’ve come by just for five minutes.”
“Baby, I was busy.”
When he kissed