Native Son - Richard Wright [132]
“They have a right to see ’im,” Buckley said. “Let ’em come in.”
Though he sat, Bigger felt his legs trembling. He was so tense in body and mind that when the door swung in he bounded up and stood in the middle of the room. He saw his mother’s face; he wanted to run to her and push her back through the door. She was standing still, one hand upon the doorknob; the other hand clutched a frayed pocketbook, which she dropped and ran to him, throwing her arms about him, crying,
“My baby….”
Bigger’s body was stiff with dread and indecision. He felt his mother’s arms tight about him and he looked over her shoulder and saw Vera and Buddy come slowly inside and stand, looking about timidly. Beyond them he saw Gus and G.H. and Jack, their mouths open in awe and fear. Vera’s lips were trembling and Buddy’s hands were clenched. Buckley, the preacher, Jan, Max, Mr. and Mrs. Dalton stood along the wall, behind him, looking on silently. Bigger wanted to whirl and blot them from sight. The kind words of Jan and Max were forgotten now. He felt that all of the white people in the room were measuring every inch of his weakness. He identified himself with his family and felt their naked shame under the eyes of white folks. While looking at his brother and sister and feeling his mother’s arms about him; while knowing that Jack and G.H. and Gus were standing awkwardly in the doorway staring at him in curious disbelief—while being conscious of all this, Bigger felt a wild and outlandish conviction surge in him: They ought to be glad! It was a strange but strong feeling, springing from the very depths of his life. Had he not taken fully upon himself the crime of being black? Had he not done the thing which they dreaded above all others? Then they ought not stand here and pity him, cry over him; but look at him and go home, contented, feeling that their shame was washed away.
“Oh, Bigger, son!” his mother wailed. “We been so worried…. We ain’t slept a single night! The police is there all the time…. They stand outside our door…. They watch and follow us everywhere! Son, son….”
Bigger heard her sobs; but what could he do? She ought not to have come here. Buddy came over to him, fumbling with his cap.
“Listen, Bigger, if you didn’t do it, just tell me and I’ll fix ’em. I’ll get a gun and kill four or five of ’em….”
The room gasped. Bigger turned his head quickly and saw that the white faces along the wall were shocked and startled.
“Don’t talk that way, Buddy,” the mother sobbed. “You want me to die right now? I can’t stand no more of this. You mustn’t talk that way…. We in enough trouble now….”
“Don’t let ’em treat you bad, Bigger,” Buddy said stoutly.
Bigger wanted to comfort them in the presence of the white folks, but did not know how. Desperately, he cast about for something to say. Hate and shame boiled in him against the people behind his back; he tried to think of words that would defy them, words that would let them know that he had a world and life of his own in spite of them. And at the same time he wanted those words to stop the tears of his mother and sister, to quiet and soothe the anger of his brother; he longed to stop those tears and that anger because he knew that they were futile, that the people who stood along the wall back of him had the destiny of him and his family in their hands.
“Aw, Ma, don’t you-all worry none,” he said, amazed at his own words; he was possessed by a queer, imperious nervous energy. “I’ll be out of this in no time.”
His mother gave him an incredulous stare. Bigger turned his head again and looked feverishly and defiantly at the white faces along the wall. They were staring at him in surprise. Buckley’s lips were twisted in a faint smile. Jan and Max looked dismayed. Mrs. Dalton, white as the wall behind her, listened, open-mouthed. The preacher and Mr. Dalton were shaking their heads sadly. Bigger knew that no one in the room, except Buddy, believed him. His mother turned her face away and cried. Vera knelt upon the floor and covered her face with her hands.
“Bigger,” his mother’s voice came low and quiet; she caught his face between the palms of her trembling hands.