Native Son - Richard Wright [76]
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. I thought at first, when you brought me those pamphlets, that he must have known something. But I don’t think he does. And there’s no use blaming him for something he didn’t do.”
Britten loosened his fingers from Bigger’s collar and shrugged his shoulders. Bigger relaxed, still standing, his head resting against the wall, aching. He had not thought that anyone would dare think that he, a black Negro, would be Jan’s partner. Britten was his enemy. He knew that the hard light in Britten’s eyes held him guilty because he was black. He hated Britten so hard and hot, while standing there with sleepy eyes and parted lips, that he would gladly have grabbed the iron shovel from the corner and split his skull in two. For a split second a roaring noise in his ears blotted out sound. He struggled to control himself; then he heard Britten talking.
“…got to get hold of that Jan.”
“That seems to be the next thing,” said Mr. Dalton, sighing.
Bigger felt that if he said something directly to Mr. Dalton, he could swing things round again in his favor; but he did not know just how to put it.
“You suppose she ran off?” he heard Britten ask.
“I don’t know,” Mr. Dalton said.
Britten turned to Bigger and looked at him; Bigger kept his eyes down.
“Boy, I just want to know, are you telling the truth?”
“Yessuh. I’m telling the truth. I just started to work here last night. I ain’t done nothing. I did just what they told me to do.”
“You sure he’s all right?” Britten asked Dalton.
“He’s all right.”
“If you don’t want me to work for you, Mr. Dalton,” Bigger said, “I’ll go home. I didn’t want to come here,” he continued, feeling that his words would awaken in Mr. Dalton a sense of why he was here, “but they sent me anyhow.”
“That’s true,” Mr. Dalton told Britten. “He’s referred to me from the relief. He’s been in a reform school and I’m giving him a chance….” Mr. Dalton turned to Bigger. “Just forget it, Bigger We had to make sure. Stay on and do your work. I’m sorry this had to happen. Don’t let it break you down.”
“Yessuh.”
“O.K.,” said Britten. “If you say he’s O.K., then it’s O.K. with me.”
“Go on to your room, Bigger,” said Mr. Dalton.
“Yessuh.”
Head down, he walked to the rear of the furnace and upstairs into his room. He turned the latch on the door and hurried to the closet to listen. The voices came clearly. Britten and Mr. Dalton had come into the kitchen.
“My, but it was hot down there,” said Mr. Dalton.
“Yes.”
“…. I’m a little sorry you bothered him. He’s here to try to get a new slant on things.”
“Well, you see ’em one way and I see ’em another. To me, a nigger’s a nigger.”
“But he’s sort of a problem boy. He’s not really bad.”
“You got to be rough with ’em, Dalton. See how I got that dope out of ’im? He wouldn’t’ve told you that.”
“But I don’t want to make a mistake here. It wasn’t his fault. He was doing what that crazy daughter of mine told him. I don’t want to do anything I’ll regret. After all, these black boys never get a chance….”
“They don’t need a chance, if you ask me. They get in enough trouble without it.”
“Well, as long as they do their work, let’s let ’em be.”
“Just as you say. You want me to stay on the job?”
“Sure. We must see this Jan. I can’t understand Mary’s going away and not saying anything.”
“I can have ’im picked up.”
“No, no! Not that way. Those Reds’ll get hold of it and they’ll raise a stink in the papers.”
“Well, what do you want me to do?”
“I’ll try to get ’im to come here. I’ll phone his office, and if he’s not there I’ll phone his home.”
Bigger heard their footsteps dying away. A door slammed and then all was quiet. He came out of the closet and looked in the dresser drawer where he had put the pamphlets. Yes, Britten had searched his room; his clothes were mussed and tumbled. He would know how to handle Britten next time. Britten was familiar to him; he had met a thousand Brittens in his life. He stood in the center