Native Son - Richard Wright [129]
“Let me be on your side, Bigger,” Jan said. “I can fight this thing with you, just like you’ve started it. I can come from all of those white people and stand here with you. Listen, I got a friend, a lawyer. His name is Max. He understands this thing and wants to help you. Won’t you talk to him?”
Bigger understood that Jan was not holding him guilty for what he had done. Was this a trap? He looked at Jan and saw a white face, but an honest face. This white man believed in him, and the moment he felt that belief he felt guilty again; but in a different sense now. Suddenly, this white man had come up to him, flung aside the curtain and walked into the room of his life. Jan had spoken a declaration of friendship that would make other white men hate him: a particle of white rock had detached itself from that looming mountain of white hate and had rolled down the slope, stopping still at his feet. The word had become flesh. For the first time in his life a white man became a human being to him; and the reality of Jan’s humanity came in a stab of remorse: he had killed what this man loved and had hurt him. He saw Jan as though someone had performed an operation upon his eyes, or as though someone had snatched a deforming mask from Jan’s face.
Bigger started nervously; the preacher’s hand came to his shoulder.
“Ah don’t wanna break in ’n’ meddle where Ah ain’ got no bisness, suh,” the preacher said in a tone that was militant, but deferring. “But there ain’ no usa draggin’ no Communism in this thing, Mistah. Ah respecks yo’ feelin’s powerfully, suh; but whut yuh’s astin’ jus’ stirs up mo’ hate. Whut this po’ boy needs is understandin’….”
“But he’s got to fight for it,” Jan said.
“Ah’m wid yuh when yuh wanna change men’s hearts,” the preacher said. “But Ah can’t go wid yuh when yuh wanna stir up mo’ hate….”
Bigger sat looking from one to the other, bewildered.
“How on earth are you going to change men’s hearts when the newspapers are fanning hate into them every day?” Jan asked.
“Gawd kin change ’em!” the preacher said fervently.
Jan turned to Bigger.
“Won’t you let my friend help you, Bigger?”
Bigger’s eyes looked round the room, as if seeking a means of escape. What could he say? He was guilty.
“Forget me,” he mumbled.
“I can’t,” Jan said.
“It’s over for me,” Bigger said.
“Don’t you believe in yourself?”
“Naw,” Bigger whispered tensely.
“You believed enough to kill. You thought you were settling something, or you wouldn’t’ve killed,” Jan said.
Bigger stared and did not answer. Did this man believe in him that much?
“I want you to talk to Max,” Jan said.
Jan went to the door. A policeman opened it from the outside. Bigger sat, open-mouthed, trying to feel where all this was bearing him. He saw a man’s head come into the door, a head strange and white, with silver hair and a lean white face that he had never seen before.
“Come on in,” Jan said.
“Thanks.”
The voice was quiet, firm, but kind; there was about the man’s thin lips a faint smile that seemed to have always been there. The man stepped inside; he was tall.
“How are you, Bigger?”
Bigger did not answer. He was doubtful again. Was this a trap of some kind?
“This is Reverend Hammond, Max,” Jan said.
Max shook hands with the preacher, then turned to Bigger.
“I want to talk with you,” Max said. “I’m from the Labor Defenders. I want to help you.”
“I ain’t got no money,” Bigger said.
“I know that. Listen, Bigger, don’t be afraid of me. And don’t be afraid of Jan. We’re not angry with you. I want to represent you in court. Have you spoken to any other lawyer?”
Bigger looked at Jan and Max again. They seemed all right. But how on earth could they help him? He wanted help, but dared not think that anybody would want to do anything for him now.
“Nawsuh,” he whispered.
“How have they treated you? Did they beat you?”
“I been sick,” Bigger said, knowing that he had to explain why he had not spoken or eaten in three days. “I been sick and I don’t know.”
“Are you willing to let us handle your case?”
“I ain’t got no money.”
“Forget about that. Listen, they