Part 6 (1/2)

They sat silently at the table before the supper. Portia kept looking up at the clock on the cupboard because it was time for Highboy and Willie to come. Doctor Copeland bent his head over the plate. He held the fork in his hand as though it were heavy, and his fingers trembled. 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 wanted to keep up some conversation.

Doctor Copeland did not know how to begin. Sometimes he thought that he had talked so much in the years before to his children and they had understood 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 uncertain 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 don't 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 don't bother me none. It about the pay I worries about. I suppose to get three dollars a week --but sometimes Mrs. Kelly likes a dollar or fifty cents of paying me the 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 not right,' said Doctor Copeland. 'Why do you stand for it?'

'It ain't her fault. She can't help it,' said Portia. 'Half the folks in that house don't pay the rent, and it a big expense to 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 can get'

'I know. But the Kellys is really grand white peoples to work for. I really fond of them as I can 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 Mick and 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.

'Mick, now--' said Portia. 'She a real case. Not a soul know how to manage that child. She just as biggity and headstrong as she can be. Something going on in her all 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 don't 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 ain't Mrs. Kelly's fault It cost so much to run that big old house and the rent just don't be paid. Ain't but one person in the house who pay a decent amount for his room and pay it on the dot 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 always polite 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 Copeland's face. He crumbled his hoecake into the collard juice in his plate and began to eat with a new appet.i.te. 'I have a deaf-mute patient,' he said.

'How come 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 clean up now,' said Portia. 'It sure enough time for Willie and my Highboy. But with this here real sink and grand running water these little dishes won't take me two winks.'

The quiet insolence of the white race was one thing he had tried to keep out of his mind for years. When the resentment would come to him he would cogitate and study. In the streets and around white people he would keep the dignity on his face and always be silent. When he was younger it was 'Boy'--but now it was 'Uncle.' 'Uncle, run down to that filling station on the corner and send me a mechanic' 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 come 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 man's restaurant and the white men at the counter had begun hollering out with their insolence. He knew that 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 happened that had never happened to him with any white man before.

It came about on a dark, rainy night several weeks ago. He had just come from a maternity case and was standing in the rain on a corner. He had tried to light a cigarette and one by one the 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 between them they could see each other's 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 happened to him before.

They had stood for a few minutes on the street corner together, and then the white man had handed him his card. He wanted to talk to the white man and ask him some questions, but he did not know for sure if he could really understand.

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. Since then 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 cannot get over the feeling that I am to blame for his handicap. I delivered him, and after two post-delivery visits of course I forgot about him. He developed ear trouble, but the mother paid no attention to the discharges from his ears and did not bring 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 cannot speak. But I have watched him carefully, and it seems to me that if he were normal he would be a very intelligent child.'

'You always had a great interest in little children,' said Portia. 'You care a heap more about them than about grown peoples, don't 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 inst.i.tution that would take him.'

'Mr. Singer would tell you. He a truly kind white man and he not a bit biggity.'

'I do not know--' said Doctor Copeland. 'I have thought 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 grand letter-writer and I would give it to Mr. Singer for you,' said Portia. 'He come down in the kitchen two-three weeks ago with a few s.h.i.+rts he wanted me to rinse out for him. Them s.h.i.+rts 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 clean s.h.i.+rts 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 s.h.i.+rts. He one really kind and pleasant white man and I wouldn't be afraid to ask him any question. I wouldn't even mind writing that nice white man a letter myself. You go right ahead and do it, Father, if you wants to.'

'Perhaps I will,' said Doctor Copeland.

Portia sat up suddenly and began arranging her tight, oily hair.

There was the faint sound of a harmonica and then gradually the music grew louder. 'Here come Willie and Highboy,' Portia said. 'I got to go out now and meet them. 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 music from the harmonica was very clear now, and they could tell that Willie was playing 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 been three 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 come in here you hurted his feelings. You see you don't understand just how--'

'Very well,' said Doctor Copeland. 'it was only a suggestion.'

'Wait,' said Portia. 'I going to call them. I going to invite them in right now.'

Doctor Copeland lighted a cigarette and walked up and down the room. He could not straighten his gla.s.ses 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 entered the kitchen.

'Here we is,' said Portia. 'Highboy, I don't 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 on the kitchen 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 then he wet 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 somebody's gin bottle.'