Native Son (17 page)

He went back to the basement, dragged the trunk to the door, lifted it to his back, carried it to the car and fastened it to the running board. He looked at his watch; it was eight-twenty. Now, he would have to wait for Mary to come out. He took his seat at the steering wheel and waited for five minutes. He would ring the bell for her. He looked at the steps leading up to the side door of the house, remembering how Mary had stumbled last night and how he had held her up. Then, involuntarily, he started in fright as a full blast of intense sunshine fell from the sky, making the snow leap and glitter and sparkle about him in a world of magic whiteness without sound. It’s getting late! He would have to go in and ask for Miss Dalton. If he stayed here too long it would seem that he was not expecting her to come down. He got out of the car and walked up the steps to the side door. He looked through the glass; no one was in sight. He tried to open the door and found it locked. He pushed the bell, hearing the gong sound softly within. He waited a moment, then saw Peggy hurrying down the hall. She opened the door.

“Hasn’t she come out yet?”

“No’m. And it’s getting late.”

“Wait. I’ll call her.”

Peggy, still dressed in the kimono, ran up the stairs, the same stairs up which he had half-dragged Mary and the same stairs down which he had stumbled with the trunk last night. Then he saw Peggy coming back down the stairs, much slower than she had gone up. She came to the door.

“She ain’t here. Maybe she’s gone. What did she tell you?”

“She said to drive her to the station and to take her trunk, mam.”

“Well, she ain’t in her room and she ain’t in Mrs. Dalton’s room. And Mr. Dalton’s asleep. Did she tell you she was going this morning?”

“That’s what she told me last night, mam.”

“She told you to bring the trunk down last night?”

“Yessum.”

Peggy thought a moment, looking past him at the snow-covered car.

“Well, you better take the trunk on. Maybe she didn’t stay here last night.”

“Yessum.”

He turned and started down the steps.

“Bigger!”

“Yessum.”

“You say she told you to leave the car out, all
night
?”

“Yessum.”

“Did she say she was going to use it again?”

“No’m. You see,” Bigger said, feeling his way, “he was in it….”

“
Who
?”

“The gentleman.”

“Oh; yes. Take the trunk on. I suppose Mary was up to some of her pranks.”

He got into the car and pulled it down the driveway to the street, then headed northward over the snow. He wanted to look back and see if Peggy was watching him, but dared not. That would
make her think that he thought that something was wrong, and he did not want to give that impression now. Well, at least he had one person thinking it as he wanted it thought.

He reached the La Salle Street Station, pulled the car to a platform, backed into a narrow space between other cars, hoisted the trunk up, and waited for a man to give him a ticket for the trunk. He wondered what would happen if no one called for it. Maybe they would notify Mr. Dalton. Well, he would wait and see. He had done his part. Miss Dalton had asked him to take the trunk to the station and he had done it.

He drove as hurriedly back to the Daltons’ as the snow-covered streets would allow him. He wanted to be back on the spot to see what would happen, to be there with his fingers on the pulse of time. He reached the driveway and nosed the car into the garage, locked it, and then stood wondering if he ought to go to his room or to the kitchen. It would be better to go straight to the kitchen as though nothing had happened. He had not as yet eaten his breakfast as far as Peggy was concerned, and his coming into the kitchen would be thought natural. He went through the basement, pausing to look at the roaring furnace, and then went to the kitchen door and stepped in softly. Peggy stood at the gas stove with her back to him. She turned and gave him a brief glance.

“You make it all right?”

“Yessum.”

“You see her down there?”

“No’m.”

“Hungry?”

“A little, mam.”

“A little?” Peggy laughed. “You’ll get used to how this house is run on Sundays. Nobody gets up early and when they do they’re almost famished.”

“I’m all right, mam.”

“That was the only kick Green had while he was working here,” Peggy said. “He swore we starved him on Sundays.”

Bigger forced a smile and looked down at the black and white linoleum on the floor. What would she think if she knew? He felt
very kindly toward Peggy just then; he felt he had something of value which she could never take from him even if she despised him. He heard a phone ring in the hallway. Peggy straightened and looked at him as she wiped her hands on her apron.

“Who on earth’s calling here this early on a Sunday morning?” she mumbled.

She went out and he sat, waiting. Maybe that was Jan asking about Mary. He remembered that Mary had promised to call him. He wondered how long it took to go to Detroit. Five or six hours? It was not far. Mary’s train had already gone. About four o’clock she would be due in Detroit. Maybe someone had planned to meet her? If she was not on the train, would they call or wire about it? Peggy came back, went to the stove and continued cooking.

“Things’ll be ready in a minute,” she said.

“Yessum.”

Then she turned to him.

“Who was the gentleman with Miss Dalton last night?”

“I don’t know, mam. I think she called him Jan, or something like that.”

“Jan? He just called,” Peggy said. She tossed her head and her lips tightened. “He’s a no-good one, if there ever was one. One of them anarchists who’s agin the government.”

Bigger listened and said nothing.

“What on earth a good girl like Mary wants to hang around with that crazy bunch for, God only knows. Nothing good’ll come of it, just you mark my word. If it wasn’t for that Mary and her wild ways, this household would run like a clock. It’s such a pity, too. Her mother’s the very soul of goodness. And there never was a finer man than Mr. Dalton…. But later on Mary’ll settle down. They all do. They think they’re missing something unless they kick up their heels when they’re young and foolish….”

She brought a bowl of hot oatmeal and milk to him and he began to eat. He had difficulty in swallowing, for he had no appetite. But he forced the food down. Peggy talked on and he wondered what he should say to her; he found that he could say nothing. Maybe she was not expecting him to say anything. Maybe
she was talking to him because she had no one else to talk to, like his mother did sometimes. Yes; he would see about the fire again when he got to the basement. He would fill that furnace as full of coal as it would get and make sure that Mary burned in a hurry. The hot cereal was making him sleepy and he suppressed a yawn.

“What all I got to do today, mam?”

“Just wait on call. Sunday’s a dull day. Maybe Mr. or Mrs. Dalton’ll go out.”

“Yessum.”

He finished the oatmeal.

“You want me to do anything now?”

“No. But you’re not through eating. You want some ham and eggs?”

“No’m. I got a plenty.”

“Well, it’s right here for you. Don’t be afraid to ask for it.”

“I reckon I’ll see about the fire now.”

“All right, Bigger. Just you listen for the bell about two o’clock. Till then I don’t think there’ll be anything.”

He went to the basement. The fire was blazing. The embers glowed red and the draft droned upward. It did not need any coal. Again he looked round the basement, into every nook and corner, to see if he had left any trace of what had happened last night. There was none.

He went to his room and lay on the bed. Well; here he was now. What would happen? The room was quiet. No! He heard something! He cocked his head, listening. He caught faint sounds of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen below. He got up and walked to the far end of the room; the sounds came louder. He heard the soft but firm tread of Peggy as she walked across the kitchen floor. She’s right under me, he thought. He stood still, listening. He heard Mrs. Dalton’s voice, then Peggy’s. He stooped and put his ear to the floor. Were they talking about Mary? He could not make out what they were saying. He stood up and looked round. A foot from him was the door of the clothes closet. He opened it; the voices came clearly. He went into the closet and the planks squeaked; he stopped. Had they heard him? Would they
think he was snooping? Oh! He had an idea! He got his suitcase and opened it and took out an armful of clothes. If anyone came into the room it would seem that he was putting his clothes away He went into the closet and listened.

“…you mean the car stayed out all
night
in the driveway?”

“Yes; he said she told him to leave it there.”

“What time was that?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Dalton. I didn’t ask him.”

“I don’t understand this at all.”

“Oh, she’s all right. I don’t think you need worry.”

“But she didn’t even leave a note, Peggy. That’s not like Mary. Even when she ran away to New York that time she at least left a note.”

“Maybe she hasn’t gone. Maybe something came up and she stayed out all night, Mrs. Dalton.”

“But why would she leave the car out?”

“I don’t know.”

“And he said a man was with her?”

“It was that Jan, I think, Mrs. Dalton.”

“Jan?”

“Yes; the one who was with her in Florida.”

“She just
won’t
leave those awful people alone.”

“He called here this morning, asking for her.”

“Called
here
?”

“Yes.”

“And what did he say?”

“He seemed sort of peeved when I told him she was gone.”

“What can that poor child be up to? She told me she was not seeing him any more.”

“Maybe
she
had him to call, Mrs. Dalton….”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, mam, I was kind of thinking that maybe she’s with him again, like that time she was in Florida. And maybe she had him to call to see if we knew she was gone….”

“Oh, Peggy!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, mam…. Maybe she stayed with some friends of hers?”

“But she was in her
room
at two o’clock this morning, Peggy. Whose house would she go to at that hour?”

“Mrs. Dalton, I noticed something when I went to her room this morning.”

“What?”

“Well, mam, it looks like her bed wasn’t slept in at all. The cover wasn’t even pulled back. Looks like somebody had just stretched out awhile and then got up….”

“Oh!”

Bigger listened intently, but there was silence. They knew that something was wrong now. He heard Mrs. Dalton’s voice again, quavering with doubt and fear.

“Then she
didn’t
sleep here last night?”

“Looks like she didn’t.”

“Did that boy say Jan was in the car?”

“Yes. I thought something was strange about the car being left out in the snow all night, and so I asked him. He said she told him to leave the car there and he said Jan was in it.”

“Listen, Peggy….”

“Yes, Mrs. Dalton.”

“Mary was drunk last night. I hope nothing’s happened to her.”

“Oh, what a pity!”

“I went to her room just after she came in…. She was too drunk to talk. She was
drunk
, I tell you. I never thought she’d come home in that condition.”

“She’ll be all right, Mrs. Dalton. I
know
she will.”

There was another long silence. Bigger wondered if Mrs. Dalton was on her way to his room. He went back to the bed and lay down, listening. There were no sounds. He lay a long time, hearing nothing; then he heard footsteps in the kitchen again. He hurried into the closet.

“Peggy!”

“Yes, Mrs. Dalton.”

“Listen, I just felt around in Mary’s room. Something’s wrong. She didn’t finish packing her trunk. At least half of her things are still there. She said she was planning to go to some dances in Detroit and she didn’t take the new things she bought.”

“Maybe she didn’t go to Detroit.”

“But where
is
she?”

Bigger stopped listening, feeling fear for the first time. He had not thought that the trunk was not fully packed. How could he explain that she had told him to take a half-packed trunk to the station? Oh, shucks! The girl was drunk. That was it. Mary was so drunk that she didn’t know what she was doing. He would say that she had told him to take it and he had just taken it; that’s all. If someone asked him why he had taken a half-packed trunk to the station, he would tell them that that was no different from all the other foolish things that Mary had told him to do that night. Had not people seen him eating with her and Jan in Ernie’s Kitchen Shack? He would say that both of them were drunk and that he had done what they told him because it was his job. He listened again to the voices.

“…and after a while send that boy to me. I want to talk to him.”

“Yes, Mrs. Dalton.”

Again he lay on the bed. He would have to go over his story and make it foolproof. Maybe he had done wrong in taking that trunk? Maybe it would have been better to have carried Mary down in his arms and burnt her? But he had put her in the trunk because of the fear of someone’s seeing her in his arms. That was the only way he could have gotten her down out of the room. Oh, hell, what had happened had happened and he would stick to his story. He went over the story again, fastening every detail firmly in his mind. He would say that she had been drunk, sloppy drunk. He lay on the soft bed in the warm room listening to the steam hiss in the radiator and thinking drowsily and lazily of how drunk she had been and of how he had lugged her up the steps and of how he had pushed the pillow over her face and of how he had put her in the trunk and of how he had struggled with the trunk on the dark stairs
and of how his fingers had burned while he had stumbled down the stairs with the heavy trunk going
bump-bump-bump
so loud that surely all the world must have heard it….

He jumped awake, hearing a knock at the door. His heart raced. He sat up and stared sleepily around the room. Had someone knocked? He looked at his watch; it was three o’clock. Gee! He must have slept through the bell that was to ring at two. The knock came again.