The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers [74]
The words were so awful-sounding in the dark that a shiver came over her. She could feel Bubber trembling.
‘They got little electric chairs there--just your size. And when they turn on the juice you just fry up like a piece of burnt bacon. Then you go to Hell.’
Bubber was squeezed up in the corner and there was not a sound from him. She climbed over the edge of the box to get down. ‘You better stay up here because they got policemen guarding the yard. Maybe in a few days I can bring you something to eat’ Mick leaned against the trunk of the oak tree. That would teach Bubber all right. She had always managed him and she knew more about that kid than anybody else. Once, about a year or two ago, he was always wanting to stop off behind bushes and pee and play with himself awhile. She had caught on to that pretty quick. She gave him a good slap every time it happened and in three days he was cured. Afterwards he never even peed normal like other kids--he held his hands behind him. She always had to nurse that Bubber and she could always manage him. In a little while she would go back up to the tree house and bring him in. After this he would never want to pick up a gun again in all his life.
There was still this dead feeling in the house. The boarders all sat on the front porch without talking or rocking in the chairs.
Her Dad and her Mama were in the front room. Her Dad drank beer out of a bottle and walked up and down the floor. Baby was going to get well all right, so this worry was not about her. And nobody seemed to be anxious about Bubber. It was something else.
‘That Bubber!’ said Etta.
‘I’m shamed to go out of the house after this,’ Hazel said.
Etta and Hazel went into the middle room and closed the door.
Bill was in his room at the back. She didn’t want to talk with them. She stood around in the front hall and thought it over by herself.
Her Dad’s footsteps stopped. ‘It was deliberate,’ he said. ‘It’s not like the kid was just fooling with the gun and it went off by accident. Everybody who saw it said he took deliberate aim.’
‘I wonder when we’ll hear from Mrs. Wilson,’ her Mama said.
‘We’ll hear plenty, all right!’
‘I reckon we will.’
Now that the sun was down the night was cold again like November. The people came in from the front porch and sat in the living-room--but nobody lighted a fire. Mick’s sweater was hanging on the hat rack, so she put it on and stood with her shoulders bent over to keep warm. She thought about Bubber sitting out in the cold, dark tree house. He had really believed every word she said. But he sure deserved to worry some. He had nearly killed that Baby.
‘Mick, can’t you think of some place where Bubber might be?’ her Dad asked.
‘He’s in the neighborhood, I reckon.’
Her Dad walked up and down with the empty beer bottle in his hand. He walked like a blind man and there was sweat on his face. ‘The poor kid’s scared to come home. If we could find him I’d feel better. I’ve never laid a hand on Bubber. He oughtn’t be scared of me.’
She would wait until an hour and a half was gone. By that time he would be plenty sorry for what he did. She always could manage that Bubber and make him learn.
After a while there was a big excitement in the house. Her Dad telephoned again to the hospital to see how Baby was, and in a few minutes Mrs. Wilson called back. She said she wanted to have a talk with them and would come to the house.
Her Dad still walked up and down the front room like a blind man. He drank three more bottles of beer. ‘The way it all happened she can sue my britches off. All she could get would be the house outside of the mortgage. But the way it happened we don’t have any comeback at all.’
Suddenly Mick thought about something. Maybe they would really try Bubber in court and put him in a children’s jail.
Maybe Mrs. Wilson would send him to reform school. Maybe they would really do something terrible to Bubber. She wanted to go out to the tree house right away and sit with him