The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers [73]
Mister Brannon rubbed his nose and looked at her in a sad way. She sure did hate him.
‘I know how you all feel--so I want to come to the point right now.’
Mick’s Mama rattled a bunch of keys and her Dad sat very still with his big hands hanging over his knees.
‘Bubber didn’t have it in his mind beforehand,’ Mick said. ‘He just--’ Mrs. Wilson jabbed the ring on and oft her finger. Wait a minute. I know how everything is. I could bring it to court and sue for every cent you own.’
Her Dad didn’t have any expression on his face. ‘I tell you one thing,’ he said. ‘We don’t have much to sue for. All we got is--’
‘Just listen to me,’ said Mrs. Wilson. ‘I haven’t come here with any lawyer to sue you. Bartholomew--Mister Brannon--and I talked it over when we came and we just about agree on the main points. In the first place, I want to do the fair, honest thing--and in the second place, I don’t want Baby’s name mixed up in no common lawsuit at her age.’
There was not a sound and everybody in the room sat stiff in their chairs. Only Mister Brannon halfway smiled at Mick, but she squinted her eyes back at him in a tough way.
Mrs. Wilson was very nervous and her hand shook when she lighted a cigarette. ‘I don’t want to have to sue you or anything like that. All I want is for you to be fair. I’m not asking you to pay for all the suffering and crying Baby went through with until they gave her something to sleep. There’s not any pay that would make up for that. And I’m not asking you to pay for the damage this will do to her career and the plans we had made. She’s going to have to wear a bandage for several months. She won’t get to dance in the soiree--maybe there’ll even be a little bald place on her head.’
Mrs. Wilson and her Dad looked at each other like they was hypnotized. Then Mrs. Wilson reached around to her pocketbook and took out a slip of paper. ‘The things you got to pay are just the actual price of what it will cost us in money. There’s Baby’s private room in the hospital and a private nurse until she can come home. There’s the operating room and the doctor’s bill--and for once I intend the doctor to be paid right away. Also, they shaved all Baby’s hair off and you got to pay me for the permanent wave I took her to Atlanta to get--so when her hair grows back natural she can have another one. And there’s the price of her costume and other little extra bills like that. I’ll write all the items down just as soon as I know what they’ll be. I’m trying to be just as fair and honest as I can, and you’ll have to pay the total when I bring it to you.’
Her Mama smoothed her dress over her knees and took a quick, short breath. ‘Seems to me like the children’s ward would be a lot better than a private room. When Mick had penumonia--’
‘I said a private room.’
Mister Brannon held out his white, stumpy hands and balanced them like they was on scales. ‘Maybe in a day or two Baby can move into a double room with some other kid.’
Mrs. Wilson spoke hard-boiled. ‘You heard what I said. Long as your kid shot my Baby she certainly ought to have every advantage until she gets well.’
‘You’re in your rights,’ her Dad said. ‘God knows we don’t have anything now--but maybe I can scrape it up. I realize you’re not trying to take advantage of us and I appreciate it. We’ll do what we can.’
She wanted to stay and hear everything that they said, but Bubber was on her mind. When she thought of him sitting up in the dark, cold tree house thinking about Sing Sing she felt uneasy. She went out of the room and down the hall toward the back door. The wind was blowing and the yard was very dark except for the yellow square that came from the light in the kitchen. When she looked back she saw Portia sitting at the table with her long, thin hands up on her face, very still.
The yard was lonesome and the wind made quick, scary shadows and a mourning kind of sound in the darkness.