Native Son - Richard Wright [134]
“She’s tellin’ yuh right, son,” the preacher said.
“Forget me, Ma,” Bigger said.
“Don’t you want to see your old ma again, son?”
Slowly, he stood up and lifted his hands and tried to touch his mother’s face and tell her yes; and as he did so something screamed deep down in him that it was a lie, that seeing her after they killed him would never be. But his mother believed; it was her last hope; it was what had kept her going through the long years. And she was now believing it all the harder because of the trouble he had brought upon her. His hands finally touched her face and he said with a sigh (knowing that it would never be, knowing that his heart did not believe, knowing that when he died, it would be over, forever):
“I’ll pray, Ma.”
Vera ran to him and embraced him. Buddy looked grateful. His mother was so happy that all she could do was cry. Jack and G.H. and Gus smiled. Then his mother stood up and encircled him with her arms.
“Come here, Vera,” she whimpered.
Vera came.
“Come here, Buddy.”
Buddy came.
“Now, put your arms around your brother,” she said.
They stood in the middle of the floor, crying, with their arms locked about Bigger. Bigger held his face stiff, hating them and himself, feeling the white people along the wall watching. His mother mumbled a prayer, to which the preacher chanted.
“Lord, here we is, maybe for the last time. You gave me these children, Lord, and told me to raise ’em. If I failed, Lord, I did the best I could. (Ahmen!) These poor children’s been with me a long time and they’s all I got. Lord, please let me see ’em again after the sorrow and suffering of this world! (Hear her, Lawd!) Lord, please let me see ’em where I can love ’em in peace. Let me see ’em again beyond the grave! (Have mercy, Jesus!) You said You’d heed prayer, Lord, and I’m asking this in the name of Your son.”
“Ahmen ’n’ Gawd bless yuh, Sistah Thomas,” the preacher said.
They took their arms from round Bigger, silently, slowly; then turned their faces away, as though their weakness made them ashamed in the presence of powers greater than themselves.
“We leaving you now with God, Bigger,” his mother said. “Be sure and pray, son.”
They kissed him.
Buckley came forward.
“You’ll have to go now, Mrs. Thomas,” he said. He turned to Mr. and Mrs. Dalton. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dalton. I didn’t mean to keep you standing there so long. But you see how things are….”
Bigger saw his mother straighten suddenly and stare at the blind white woman.
“Is you Mrs. Dalton?” she asked.
Mrs. Dalton moved nervously, lifted her thin, white hands and tilted her head. Her mouth came open and Mr. Dalton placed an arm about her.
“Yes,” Mrs. Dalton whispered.
“Oh, Mrs. Dalton, come right this way,” Buckley said hurriedly.
“No; please,” Mrs. Dalton said. “What is it, Mrs. Thomas?”
Bigger’s mother ran and knelt on the floor at Mrs. Dalton’s feet.
“Please, mam!” she wailed. “Please, don’t let ’em kill my boy! You know how a mother feels! Please, mam…. We live in your house…. They done asked us to move…. We ain’t got nothing….”
Bigger was paralyzed with shame; he felt violated.
“Ma!” he shouted, more in shame than anger.
Max and Jan ran to the black woman and tried to lift her up.
“That’s all right, Mrs. Thomas,” Max said. “Come with me.”
“Wait,” Mrs. Dalton said.
“Please, mam! Don’t let ’em kill my boy! He ain’t never had a chance! He’s just a poor boy! Don’t let ’em kill ’im! I’ll work for you for the rest of my life! I’ll do anything you say, mam!” the mother sobbed.
Mrs. Dalton stooped slowly, her hands trembling in the air. She touched the mother’s head.
“There’s nothing I can do now,” Mrs. Dalton said calmly. “It’s out of my hands. I did all I could, when I wanted to give your boy a chance at life. You’re not to blame for this. You must be brave. Maybe it’s better….”
“If you speak to