Native Son - Richard Wright [74]
“Yessuh,” Bigger said, wondering if that answer was the safest.
“Was she too drunk to know what she was doing, Bigger?”
“Well, they went into the room,” he said. “I went in after them. Then she told me to take the trunk down. That’s all happened.”
“She could have put these things into a small suitcase,” Britten said.
The fire sang in Bigger’s ears and he saw the red shadows dance on the walls. Let them try to find out who did it! His teeth were clamped hard, until they ached.
“Sit down, Bigger,” Britten said.
Bigger looked at Britten, feigning surprise.
“Sit on the trunk,” Britten said.
“Me?”
“Yeah. Sit down.”
He sat.
“Now, take your time and think hard. I want to ask you some questions.”
“Yessuh.”
“What time did you take Miss Dalton from here last night?”
“About eight-thirty, suh.”
Bigger knew that this was it. This man was here to find out everything. This was an examination. He would have to point his answers away from himself quite definitely. He would have to tell his story. He would let each of the facts of his story fall slowly, as though he did not realize the significance of them. He would answer only what was asked.
“You drove her to school?”
He hung his head and did not answer.
“Come on, boy!”
“Well, mister, you see, I’m just working here….”
“What do you mean?”
Mr. Dalton came close and looked hard into his face.
“Answer his questions, Bigger.”
“Yessuh.”
“You drove her to school?” Britten asked again.
Still, he did not answer.
“I asked you a question, boy!”
“Nawsuh. I didn’t drive her to school.”
“Where did you take her?”
“Well, suh. She told me, after I got as far as the park, to turn round and take her to the Loop.”
“She didn’t go to school?” Mr. Dalton asked, his lips hanging open in surprise.
“Nawsuh.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before, Bigger?”
“She told me not to.”
There was silence. The furnace droned. Huge red shadows swam across the walls.
“Where did you take her, then?” Britten asked.
“To the Loop, suh.”
“Whereabouts in the Loop?”
“To Lake Street, suh.”
“Do you remember the number?”
“Sixteen, I think, suh.”
“Sixteen Lake Street?”
“Yessuh.”
“That’s the Labor Defender office,” Mr. Dalton said, turning to Britten. “This Jan’s a Red.”
“How long was she in there?” Britten asked.
“About half-hour, I reckon, suh.”
“Then what happened?”
“Well, I waited in the car….”
“She stayed there till you brought her home?”
“Nawsuh.”
“She came out….”
“They came out….”
“This man Jan was with her, then?”
“Yessuh. He was with her. Seems to me she went in there to get him. She didn’t say anything; she just went in and stayed awhile and then came out with him.”
“Then you drove ’em….”
“He drove,” Bigger said.
“Weren’t you driving?”
“Yessuh. But he wanted to drive and she told me to let him.”
There was another silence. They wanted him to draw the picture and he would draw it like he wanted it. He was trembling with excitement. In the past had they not always drawn the picture for him? He could tell them anything he wanted and what could they do about it? It was his word against Jan’s, and Jan was a Red.
“You waited somewhere for ’em?” Britten asked; the tone of curt hostility had suddenly left his voice.
“Nawsuh. I was in the car….”
“And where did they go?”
He wanted to tell of how they had made him sit between them; but he thought that he would tell that later on, when he was telling how Jan and Mary had made him feel.
“Well, Mr. Jan asked me where was a good place to eat. The only one I knew about where white folks,” he said “white folks” very slowly, so that they would know that he was conscious of what was meant, “ate on the South Side was Ernie’s Kitchen Shack.”
“You took them there?”
“Mr. Jan drove the car, suh.”
“How long did they stay there?”
“Well, we must’ve stayed….”
“Weren’t you waiting in the car?”
“Nawsuh. You see, mister, I did what they told me. I was only working for ’em….”
“Oh!” Britten said. “I suppose he made you eat with ’im?”
“I didn’t want to, mister. I swear I didn’t. He kept worrying me till