Something had to happen soon. I would have to find a job to tide me over. My money was almost gone and anything might happen. I had been so confident that I had failed to put aside the price of train fare home. I was miserable and I dared not talk to anyone about my problems; not even the officials at Men's House, for since they had learned that I was to be assigned to an important job, they treated me with a certain deference; therefore I was careful to hide my growing doubts. After all, I thought, I might have to ask for credit and I'll have to appear a good risk. No, the thing to do was to keep faith. I'd start out once more in the morning. Something was certain to happen tomorrow. And it did. I received a letter from Mr. Emerson.
Chapter 9
It was a clear, bright day when I went out, and the sun burned warm upon my eyes. Only a few flecks of snowy cloud hung high in the morning-blue sky, and already a woman was hanging wash on a roof. I felt better walking along. A feeling of confidence grew. Far down the island the skyscrapers rose tall and mysterious in the thin, pastel haze. A milk truck went past. I thought of the school. What were they doing now on the campus? Had the moon sunk low and the sun climbed clear? Had the breakfast bugle blown? Did the bellow of the big seed bull awaken the girls in the dorms this morning as on most spring mornings when I was there -- sounding clear and full above bells and bugles and early workaday sounds? I hurried along, encouraged by the memories, and suddenly I was seized with a certainty that today was the day. Something would happen. I patted my brief case, thinking of the letter inside. The last had been first -- a good sign.
Close to the curb ahead I saw a man pushing a cart piled high with rolls of blue paper and heard him singing in a clear ringing voice. It was a blues, and I walked along behind him remembering the times that I had heard such singing at home. It seemed that here some memories slipped around my life at the campus and went far back to things I had long ago shut out of my mind. There was no escaping such reminders.
And as I drew alongside I was startled to hear him call to me:
"Looka-year, buddy..."
"Yes," I said, pausing to look into his reddish eyes.
"Tell me just one thing this very fine morning -- Hey! Wait a minute, daddy-o, I'm going your way!"
"What is it?" I said.
"What I want to know is," he said, "is you got the dog?"
"Dog? What dog?"
"Sho," he said, stopping his cart and resting it on its support. "That's it. Who --" he halted to crouch with one foot on the curb like a country preacher about to pound his Bible -- "got... the... dog," his head snapping with each word like an angry rooster's.
I laughed nervously and stepped back. He watched me out of shrewd eyes. "Oh, goddog, daddy-o," he said with a sudden bluster, "who got the damn dog? Now I know you from down home, how come you trying to act like you never heard that before! Hell, ain't nobody out here this morning but us colored -- Why you trying to deny me?"
Suddenly I was embarrassed and angry. "Deny you? What do you mean?"
"Just answer the question. Is you got him, or ain't you?"
"A dog?"
"Yeah, the dog."
I was exasperated. "No, not this morning," I said and saw a grin spread over his face.
"Wait a minute, daddy. Now don't go get mad. Damn, man! I thought sho you had him," he said, pretending to disbelieve me. I started away and he pushed the cart beside me. And suddenly I felt uncomfortable. Somehow he was like one of the vets from the Golden Day...
"Well, maybe it's the other way round," he said. "Maybe he got holt to you."
"Maybe," I said.
"If he is, you lucky it's just a dog -- 'cause, man, I tell you I believe it's a bear that's got holt to me."
"A bear?"
"Hell, yes! The bear. Caint you see these patches where he's been clawing at my behind?"
Pulling the seat of his Charlie Chaplin pants to the side, he broke into deep laughter.
"Man, this Harlem ain't nothing but a bear's den. But I tell you one thing," he said with swiftly sobering face, "it's the best place in the world for you and me, and if times don't get better soon I'm going to grab that bear and turn him every way but loose!"
"Don't let him get you down," I said.
"No, daddy-o, I'm going to start with one my own size!"
I tried to think of some saying about bears to reply, but remembered only Jack the Rabbit, Jack the Bear... who were both long forgotten and now brought a wave of homesickness. I wanted to leave him, and yet I found a certain comfort in walking along beside him, as though we'd walked this way before through other mornings, in other places...
"What is all that you have there?" I said, pointing to the rolls of blue paper stacked in the cart.
"Blueprints, man. Here I got 'bout a hundred pounds of blueprints and I couldn't build nothing!"
"What are they blueprints for?" I said.
"Damn if I know -- everything. Cities, towns, country clubs. Some just buildings and houses. I got damn near enough to build me a house if I could live in a paper house like they do in Japan. I guess somebody done changed their plans," he added with a laugh. "I asked the man why they getting rid of all this stuff and he said they get in the way so every once in a while they have to throw 'em out to make place for the new plans. Plenty of these ain't never been used, you know."
"You have quite a lot," I said.
"Yeah, this ain't all neither. I got a coupla loads. There's a day's work right here in this stuff. Folks is always making plans and changing 'em."
"Yes, that's right," I said, thinking of my letters, "but that's a mistake. You have to stick to the plan."
He looked at me, suddenly grave. "You kinda young, daddy-o," he said.
I did not answer. We came to a corner at the top of a hill.
"Well, daddy-o, it's been good talking with a youngster from the old country but I got to leave you now. This here's one of them good ole downhill streets. I can coast a while and won't be worn out at the end of the day. Damn if I'm-a let 'em run me into my grave. I be seeing you again sometime -- And you know something?"
"What's that?"
"I thought you was trying to deny me at first, but now I be pretty glad to see you..."
"I hope so," I said. "And you take it easy."
"Oh, I'll do that. All it takes to get along in this here man's town is a little shit, grit and mother-wit. And man, I was bawn with all three. In fact, I'maseventhsonofaseventhsonbawnwithacauloverbotheyesandraisedonblackcat-boneshighjohntheconquerorandgreasygreens --" he spieled with twinkling eyes, his lips working rapidly. "You dig me, daddy?"