Native Son - Richard Wright [84]
She sank to the bed again, sobbing, her breath catching in her throat. He stood looking down at her, waiting for her to quiet. When she had control of herself, he lifted her and stood her upon her feet. He reached under the pillow and brought out the bottle and took out the stopper and put his hand round her and tilted her head.
“Here; take a shot.”
“Naw.”
“Drink….”
He carried the bottle to her lips; she drank a small swallow. When he attempted to put the bottle away, she took it from him.
“That’s enough, now. You don’t want to get sloppy drunk.”
He turned her loose and she lay back on the bed, limp, whimpering. He bent to her.
“Listen, Bessie.”
“Bigger, please! Don’t do this to me! Please! All I do is work, work like a dog! From morning till night. I ain’t got no happiness. I ain’t never had none. I ain’t got nothing and you do this to me. After how good I been to you. Now you just spoil my whole life. I’ve done everything for you I know how and you do this to me. Please, Bigger….” She turned her head away and stared at the floor. “Lord, don’t let this happen to me! I ain’t done nothing for this to come to me! I just work! I ain’t had no happiness, no nothing. I just work. I’m black and I work and don’t bother nobody….”
“Go on,” Bigger said, nodding his head affirmatively; he knew the truth of all she spoke without her telling it. “Go on and see what that gets you.”
“But I don’t want to do it, Bigger. They’ll catch us. God knows they will.”
“I ain’t going to leave you here to snitch on me.”
“I won’t tell. Honest, I won’t. I cross my heart and swear by God, I won’t. You can run away….”
“I ain’t got no money.”
“You have got money. I paid rent out of what you gave me and I bought some liquor. But the rest is there.”
“That ain’t enough. I got to have some real dough.”
She cried again. He got the knife and stood over her.
“I can stop it all right now,” he said.
She started up, her mouth opening to scream.
“If you scream, I’ll have to kill you. So help me God!”
“Naw; naw! Bigger, don’t! Don’t!”
Slowly, his arm relaxed and hung at his side; she fell to sobbing again. He was afraid that he would have to kill her before it was all over. She would not do to take along, and he could not leave her behind.
“All right,” he said. “But you better do the right thing.”
He put the knife on the dresser and got the flashlight from his overcoat pocket and then stood over her with the letter and flashlight in his hand.
“Come on,” he said. “Get your coat on.”
“Not tonight, Bigger! Not tonight….”
“It won’t be tonight. But I got to show you what to do.”
“But it’s cold. It’s snowing….”
“Sure. And nobody’ll see us. Come on!”
She pulled up; he watched her struggle into her coat. Now and then she paused and looked at him, blinking back her tears. When she was dressed, he put on his coat and cap and led her to the street. The air was thick with snow. The wind blew hard. It was a blizzard. The street lamps were faint smudges of yellow. They walked to the corner and waited for a car.
“I’d rather do anything but this,” she said.
“Stop now. We’re in it.”
“Bigger, honey, I’d run off with you. I’d work for you, baby. We don’t have to do this. Don’t you believe I love you?”
“Don’t try that on me now.”
The car came; he helped her on and sat down beside her and looked past her face at the silent snow flying white and wild outside the window. He brought his eyes farther round and looked at her; she was staring with blank eyes, like a blind woman waiting for some word to tell her where she was going. Once she cried and he gripped her shoulder so tightly that she stopped, more absorbed in the painful pressure of steel-like fingers than in her fate. They got off at Thirty-sixth Place and walked over to Michigan Avenue. When they reached the corner, Bigger stopped and made her stop by gripping her arm again. They were in front of the high, white, empty building with black windows.
“Where we going?”
“Right here.”
“Bigger,” she whimpered.
“Come on, now. Don’t start that!”
“But I don’t want to.”
“You