Part One-12
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He could not stop those terrible things, and afterward he could never uand.This here supper sure smells good to me, said Portia. expect us better eat now because Highboy and Willie liable to e trooping in any minute.’
Doctor Copelaled his spectacles and pulled his chair up to the table. Where have your husband and William been spending the evening?’
They been throwing horseshoes. This here Raymond Jones haves a horseshoe pla his back yard. This Raymond and his sister, Love Jones, plays ever night. Love is such a ugly girl I dont mind about Highboy or Willie going around to their house any time they wishes. But they said they would
e bae at quarter to ten and I expeg them now any minute.’
Before I fet, said Doctor Copeland. I suppose you hear frequently from Hamilton and Karl Marx.’
I does from Hamilton. He practically taken over all the work on randpapas place. But Buddy, he in Mobile —and you know he were never a big hand at writiers. However, Buddy always haves such a sweet way with peoples that I dont ever worry ing him. He the kind to always get alht well.’
They sat silently at the table before the supper. Portia kept looking up at the clo the cupboard because it was time fhboy and Willie to e. Doctor Copela his head over the plate. He held the fork in his hand as though it were heavy, and his firembled. He only tasted the food and with each mouthful he swallowed hard. There was a feeling of strain, and it seemed as though both of them wao keep up some versation.
Doctor Copeland did not know how to begin. Sometimes he thought that he had talked so mu the years before to his children and they had uood so little that now there was nothing at all to say. After a while he wiped his mouth with his handkerchief and spoke in an uain voice.
You have hardly mentioned yourself. Tell me about your job and what you have been doing lately.’
Course I still with the Kellys, said Portia. But I tells you, Father, I dont know how long I going to be able to keep on with them. The work is hard and it always take me a long time to get through. However, that dont bother me about the pay I worries about. I suppose to get three dollars a week—but sometimes Mrs. Kelly likes a dollar or fifty ts of payihe full amount. Course she always catches up on it soon as she able. But it haves a way of leaving me in a pinch.’
"That is nht, said Doctor Copeland. Why do you stand for it?’
It aint her fault. She t help it, said Portia. Half the folks in that house dont pay the rent, and it a big expeo keep everthing up. I tell you the truth—the Kellys is just barely keeping one jump ahead of the sheriff. They having a mighty
hard time.’
There ought to be some other job you get I know. But the Kellys is really grand white peoples to work for. I really fond of them as I be. Them three little children is just like some of my own kinfolks. I feel like I done really raised Bubber and the baby. And although Mid me is always getting into some kind of quarrel together, I haves a real close fondness for her, too. But you must think of yourself, said Doctor Copeland.
Miow------ said Portia. She a real case. Not asoul know how to mahat child. She just as biggity arong as she be. Something going on in herall the time. I haves a funny feeling about that child. It seem to me that one of these days she going to really surprise somebody. But whether that going to be a good surprise or a bad surprise I just dont know. Mick puzzle me sometimes.
But still I really fond of her.’
*You must look out for your own livelihood first.’
As I say, it aint Mrs. Kellys fault It cost so much to run that big old house and the rent just dont be paid. Aint but one person in the house who pay a det amount for his room and pay it o without fail. And that man only been living there a short while. He one of these here deaf-and-dumb folks.
He the first one of them I ever seen close up—but he a mighty fine white man.Tall, thin, with gray and green eyes? asked Doctor Copeland suddenly. And alolite to everyone and very well dressed? Not like someone from this town— more like a Northerner or maybe a Jew?’
That him, said Portia.
Eagerness came into Doctor Copelands face. He crumbled his hoecake into the collard jui his plate and began to eat with a neetite. I have a deaf-mute patient, he said.
How e you acquainted with Mr. Singer? asked Portia.
Doctor Copeland coughed and covered his mouth with his handkerchief. I have just seen him several times.’
I better up noortia. It sure enough time for Willie and my Highboy. But with this here real sink and grand running water these little dishes wont take me two winks.’
The quiet insolence of the white race was ohing he had tried to keep out of his mind for years. When the rese would e to him he would cogitate and study. Ireets and around white people he would keep the dignity on his fad always be silent. When he was you was Boy—but now it was Uncle. Uncle, run down to that filling station on the er and send me a meic A white man in a car had called out those words to him not long ago. Boy, give me a hand with this. —Uncle, do that. And he would not listen, but would walk, on with the dignity in him and be silent A few nights ago a drunken white man had e up to him and begun pulling him along the street. He had his bag with him and he was sure someone was hurt. But the drunkard had pulled him into a white maaurant and the white men at the ter had begun h out with their insolence. He khat the drunkard was making fun of him. Even then he had kept the dignity in him.
But with this tall, thin white man with the gray-green eyes something had happehat had never happeo him with any white man before.
It came about on a dark, rainy night several weeks ago. He had just e from a maternity case and was standing in the rain on a er. He had tried to light a cigarette and one by ohe matches in his box fizzled out. He had been standing with the unlighted cigarette in his mouth when the white man stepped up and held for him a lighted match. In the dark with the flame betweehey could see each others faces. The white man smiled at him and lighted for him his cigarette. He did not know what to say, for nothing like that had ever happeo him before.
They had stood for a few minutes oreet er together, and then the white man had handed him his card. He wao talk to the white man and ask him some questions, but he did not know for sure if he could really uand.
Because of the insolence of all the white race he was afraid to lose his dignity in friendliness.
But the white man had lighted his cigarette and smiled and seemed to want to be with him. Sihen he had thought this over many times.
I have a deaf-mute patient, said Doctor Copeland to Portia.
The patient is a boy five years of age. And somehow I ot get over the feeling that I am to blame for bis handicap. I delivered him, and after two post-delivery visits of course I fot about him. He developed ear trouble, but the mother paid no attention to the discharges from his ears and did n him to me. When it was finally brought to my attention it was too late. Of course he hears nothing and of course he therefore ot speak. But I have .ched him carefully, and it seems to me that if he were normal he would be a very intelligent child. You always had a great i in little children, saidPortia. You care a heap more about them than about grown peoples, dont you?’
"There is more hope in the young child, said Doctor Copeland. But this deaf boy—I have been meaning to. make inquiries and find if there is some institution that would take him.’
Mr. Singer would tell you. He a truly kind white man a a bit biggity.’
I do not know------ said Doctor Copeland. I havethought once or twice about writing him a note and seeing if he could give me information.’
Sure I would if I was you. You a graer-writer and I would give it to Mr. Singer for you, said Portia. He e down i two-three weeks ago with a few shirts he wanted me to rinch out for him. Them shirts were no more dirty than if Saint John the Baptist hisself had been wearing them. All I had to do were dip them in warm water and give the collars a small rub and press them. But that night when I taken them five shirts up to his room you know how much he give me?’
No.’
He smile like he always do and hand over to me a dollar. A whole dollar just for them little shirts. He one really kind and pleasant white man and I wouldnt be afraid to ask him any question. I wouldnt even mind writing that nice white man a letter myself. You ght ahead and do it, Father, if you wants to.’
Perhaps I will, said Doctor Copeland.
Portia sat up suddenly and began arrangiight, oily hair.
There was the faint sound of a harmonid then gradually the music grew louder. Here e Willie and Highboy, Portia said. I got to go out now ahem. You take care of yourself now, and send me a word if you needs me for anything. I did enjoy the supper with you and the talking very much.’
The musi the harmonica was very clear now, and they could tell that Willie laying while he waited at the front gate.
Wait a minute, said Doctor Copeland. I have only seen your husband with you about two times and I believe we have never really met each other. And it has beenthree years since William has visited his father. Why not tell them to drop in for a little while?’
Portia stood in the doorway, fingering her hair and her earrings.
Last time Willie e in here you hurted his feelings. You see you dont uand just how------’
Very well, said Doctor Copeland. it was only a suggestion.’
Wait, said Portia. I going to call them. I going to ihem in right now.’
Doctor Copeland lighted a cigarette and walked up and down the room. He could not straighten his glasses to just the right position and his fingers kept trembling. From the front yard there was the sound of low voices. Then heavy footsteps were in the hall and Portia, William, and Highboy ehe kit.
Here we is, said Portia. Highboy, I dont believe you and my Father has ever truly been introduced to each other. But you knows who each other is.’
Doctor Copeland shook hands with both of them. Willie hung back shyly against the wall, but Highboy stepped forward and bowed formally. I has always heard so much about you, he said. I be very pleased to make your acquaintance.’
Portia and Doctor Copeland brought in chairs from the hall and the four of them sat around the stove. They were silent
and uneasy. Willie gazed nervously around the room —at the books o table, the sink, the cot against the wall, and at his father. Highboy grinned and picked at his tie.
Doctor Copeland seemed about to speak, and the his lips and was still silent.
Willie, you were going pretty good with your harp, said Portia finally. Look to me like you and Highboy must of got into somebodys gin bottle.’
No, maam, said Highboy very politely. Us havent had anything siurday. Us have just been enjoying our horseshoe game.’
Doctor Copeland still did not speak, and they all kept glang at him and waiting. The room was close and the quietness made everyone nervous.
I do haves the hardest time with them boys clothes, Portia said. I washes both of them white suits ever Saturday and I presses them twice a week. And look at them now.
Course they<bdi></bdi> dohem except when they gets home from work. But after two days they seems to be potty black. I irohem pants just last night and now there not a crease left.’
Still Doctor Copeland was silent. He kept his eyes on his sons face, but when Willie noticed this he bit his rough, blunt fingers and stared at his feet. Doctor Copela his pulse hammering at his wrists and temples. He coughed and held his fist to his chest. He wao speak to his son, but he could think of nothing to say. The old bitterness came up in him and he did not have time to cogitate and push it down. His pulse hammered in him and he was fused. But they all looked at him, and the silence was s that he had to speak.
His voice was high and it did not sound as though it came from himself. William, I wonder how much of all the things I have said to you when you were a child have stayed in your mind.’
I dont know what you m-m-means, Willie said.
The words came before Doctor Copeland knew what he would say. I mean that to you and Hamilton and Karl Marx I gave all that was in me. And I put all of my trust and hope in you. And all I get is blank misuanding and idleness and indifference. Of all I have put in nothing has remained. All has
been taken away from me. All that I have tried to do------’
Hush, said Portia. "Father, you promised me that us would not quarrel. This here is crazy. Us t afford to quarrel.’<samp></samp>
Portia got up and started toward the front door. Willie and Highboy followed quickly. Doctor Copeland was the last to e.
They stood in the dark before the front door. Doctor Copeland tried to speak, but his voice seemed lost some-.. where deep inside him. Willie and Portia and Highboy stood in a group together.
With one arm Portia held to her husband and brother and with the other she reached out to Doctor Copeland. Less us all make up now before us goes. I t standthis here fightiween us. Less us not ever quarrel no more.’
In silence Doctor Copeland shook hands again with each of them. I am sorry, he said.
It quite all right with me, said Highboy politely.
It quite all right with me too, Willie mumbled.
Portia held all of their hands together. Us just t afford to quarrel.’
They said good-bye, and Doctor Copeland watched them from the dark front porch as they went together up the street. Their footsteps as they walked away had a lonesome sound and he felt weak and tired. When they were a block away William began playing his harmonica again. The music was sad ay. He stayed on the. front portil he could her see nor hear them any longer.
Doctor Copeland turned off the lights in his house and sat in the dark before the stove. But peace would not e to him.
He wao remove Hamilton and Karl Marx and William from his mind. Each word that Portia had said to him came ba a loud, hard way to his memory. He got up suddenly and turned on the light. He settled himself at the table with his books by Spinoza and William Shakespeare and Karl Marx.
When he read the Spinoza aloud to himself the words had a rich, dark sound.
He thought of the white man of whom they had spoken. It
would be good if the white man could help him with Augustus Be Mady Lewis, the deaf patient. It would be good to write to the white man even if he did not have this reason and these questions to ask. Doctor Copeland held his head in his hands and from his throat there came the strange sound like a kind of singing moan. He remembered the white mans face when he smiled behind the yellow match flame on that rainy night—and peace was in him.
BY MIDSUMMER Singer had visitors more often than any other person in the house. From his room in the evening there was nearly always the sound of a voice. After di the New York Cafe he bathed and dressed himself inone of his cool wash suits and as a rule did not go out again.
The room was cool and pleasant. He had an icebox in the closet where he kept bottles of cold beer and fruit drinks. He was never busy or in a hurry. And always he met his guests at the door with a wele smile.
Mick loved to go up to Mister Singers room. Even if he was a deaf-and-dumb mute he uood every word she said to him. Talking with him was like a game. Only there was a whole lot more to it than any game. It was like finding out hings about music. She would tell him some of her plans that she would not tell anybody else. He let her meddle with his cute little chess men. Once when she was excited and caught her shirt-tail in the electri he acted in such a kindly way that she was not embarrassed at all. Except for her Dad, Mister Singer was the man she knew.
When Doctor Copeland wrote the o John Singer about Augustus Be Mady Lewis there olite reply and an invitation for him to make a call when he found the opportunity. Doctor Copelao the back of the house and sat with Portia awhile i. Then he climbed the stairs to the white mans room. There was truly none of the quiet insolence about this man. They had a lemoogether and the mute wrote down the ao the questions he
wished to know. This man was different from any person of the white race whom Doctor Copeland had ever entered.
Afterward he pondered about this white man a long time.
Then later, inasmuch as he had been invited in a cordial mao return, he made another visit.
Jake Blount came every week. When he walked up to Singers room the whole stairway shook. Usually he car- A ried a paper sack of beers. Often his voice would e out y loud and angry from the room. But before he left his voice gradually quieted. When he desded the stairs he did not carry the sack of beers any longer, and he walked away thoughtfully without seeming to notice where he was going.
Even Biff Brannon came to the mutes room one night. But as he could ay away from the restaurant for long, he left in a half-hour.
Singer was always the same to everyone. He sat in astraight chair by the window with his hands stuffed tight into his pockets, and nodded or smiled to show his guests that he uood.
If he did not have a visitor in the evening, Singer went to a late movie. He liked to sit bad watch the actors talking and walking about on the s. He never looked at the title of a picture befoing into a movie, and no matter what was showiched each se with equal i.
Then, one day in July, Singer suddenly went away without warning. He left the door of his room open, and oable in an envelope adddessed to Mrs. Kelly there were four dollars for the past weeks rent. His few simple possessions were gone and the room was very and bare. When his visitors came and saw this empty room they went away with hurt surprise.
No one could imagine why he had left like this.
Singer spent all of his summer vacation iown where Antonapoulos was bei in the asylum. For months he had plahis trip and imagined about eaent they would have together. Two weeks beforehand his hotel reservation had been made and for a long time he had carried his railroad ticket in an envelope in his pocket.
Antonapoulos was not ged at all. When Singer came into his room he ambled placidly to meet his friend. He was even fatter than before, but the dreamy smile on his face was just
the same. Singer had some packages in his arms and the big Greek gave them his first attention. His presents were a scarlet dressing-gown, soft bedroom slippers, and two monogrammed nightshirts. Antonapoulos looked beh all the tissue papers in the boxes very carefully. When he saw that nothing good to eat had been cealed there, he dumped the gifts disdainfully on his bed and did not bother with them any more.
The room was large and sunny. Several beds were spaced in a row together. Three old men played a game of slapja a er. They did not notice Singer or Antonapoulos, and the two friends sat alone oher side of the room.
It seemed to Sihat years had passed sihey had been together. There was so much to say that hishands could not shape the signs with speed enough. His green eyes burned and sweat glittered on his forehead. The old feeling of gaiety and bliss was so qui him again that he could not trol himself.
Antonapoulos kept his dark, oily eyes on his friend and did not mo<mark></mark>ve. His hands fumbled languidly with the crotch of his trousers. Siold him, among other things, about the visitors who had been ing to see him. He told his friend that they helped take his mind away from his lonesomeness.
He told Antonapoulos that they were strange people and always talking—but that he liked to have them e. He drew quick sketches of Jake Blount and Mid Doctor Copeland.
Then as soon as he saw mat Antonapoulos was not ied Singer crumpled the sketches and fot about them. Wheendant came in to say that their time , Singer had not finished half of the things he wao say. But he left the room very tired and happy.
The patients could receive their friends only on Thursday and Sunday. On the days when he could not be with Antonapoulos, Singer walked up and down in his room at the hotel.
His sed visit to his friend was like the first, except that the old men in the room watched them listlessly and did not play slapjack.
After much trouble Singer obtained permission to take Antonapoulos out with him for a few hours. He planned each
detail of the little excursion in advahey drove out into the try in a taxi, and then at four-thirty they went to the dining-room at the hotel. Antonapoulos greatly enjoyed his extra meal. He ordered half the dishes on the menu and ate very greedily. But when he had finished he would not leave.
He held to the table. Singer coaxed him and the cab driver wao use force. Antonapoulos sat stolidly and made obse gestures when they came too close to him. At last Singer bought a bottle of whiskey from the hotel manager and lured him into the taxi again. When Sihrew the unopened bottle out of the window Antonapoulos wept with disappoi and offehe end of their little excursion made Singer very sad.
His visit was the last one, for his two weeks vacation was almost over. Antonapoulos had fotten whathad happened before. They sat in their same er of the room. The minutes slipped by quickly. Singers hands talked desperately and his narrow face was very pale. At last it was time for him to go. He held his friend by the arm and looked into his fa the way that he used to do when they parted each day before work. Antonapoulos stared at him drowsily and did not move. Singer left the room with his hands stuffed hard into his pockets.
Soon after Singer returo his room at the b-house, Mid Jake Blount and Doctor Copeland began to e again. Eae of them wao know where he had been and why he had not let them know about his plans. But Singer pretehat he did not uand their questions, and his smile was inscrutable.
One by ohey would e to Singers room to spend the evening with him. The mute was always thoughtful and posed. His many-tinted gentle eyes were grave as a sorcerers. Mick Kelly and Jake Blount and Doctor Copeland would e and talk in the silent room—tor they felt that the mute would always uand whatever they wao say to him. And maybe even more than that.
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