"You do look better, sir," I said, anxious to get out of the place. I could understand the vet's words but not what they conveyed, and Mr. Norton looked as uncomfortable as I felt. The one thing which I did know was that the vet was acting toward the white man with a freedom which could only bring on trouble. I wanted to tell Mr. Norton that the man was crazy and yet I received a fearful satisfaction from hearing him talk as he had to a white man. With the girl it was different. A woman usually got away with things a man never could.
I was wet with anxiety, but the vet talked on, ignoring the interruption.
"Rest, rest," he said, fixing Mr. Norton with his eyes. "The clocks are all set back and the forces of destruction are rampant down below. They might suddenly realize that you are what you are, and then your life wouldn't be worth a piece of bankrupt stock. You would be canceled, perforated, voided, become the recognized magnet attracting loose screws. Then what would you do? Such men are beyond money, and with Supercargo down, out like a felled ox, they know nothing of value. To some, you are the great white father, to others the lyncher of souls, but for all, you are confusion come even into the Golden Day."
"What are you talking about?" I said, thinking: Lyncher? He was getting wilder than the men downstairs. I didn't dare look at Mr. Norton, who made a sound of protest.
The vet frowned. "It is an issue which I can confront only by evading it. An utterly stupid proposition, and these hands so lovingly trained to master a scalpel yearn to caress a trigger. I returned to save life and I was refused," he said. "Ten men in masks drove me out from the city at midnight and beat me with whips for saving a human life. And I was forced to the utmost degradation because I possessed skilled hands and the belief that my knowledge could bring me dignity -- not wealth, only dignity -- and other men health!"
Then suddenly he fixed me with his eyes. "And now, do you understand?"
"What?" I said.
"What you've heard!"
"I don't know."
"Why?"
I said, "I really think it's time we left."
"You see," he said turning to Mr. Norton, "he has eyes and ears and a good distended African nose, but he fails to understand the simple facts of life. Understand. Understand? It's worse than that. He registers with his senses but short-circuits his brain. Nothing has meaning. He takes it in but he doesn't digest it. Already he is -- well, bless my soul! Behold! a walking zombie! Already he's learned to repress not only his emotions but his humanity. He's invisible, a walking personification of the Negative, the most perfect achievement of your dreams, sir! The mechanical man!"
Mr. Norton looked amazed.
"Tell me," the vet said, suddenly calm. "Why have you been interested in the school, Mr. Norton?"
"Out of a sense of my destined role," Mr. Norton said shakily. "I felt, and I still feel, that your people are in some important manner tied to my destiny."
"What do you mean, destiny?" the vet said.
"Why, the success of my work, of course."
"I see. And would you recognize it if you saw it?"
"Why, of course I would," Mr. Norton said indignantly. "I've watched it grow each year I've returned to the campus."
"Campus? Why the campus?"
"It is there that my destiny is being made."
The vet exploded with laughter. "The campus, what a destiny!" He stood and walked around the narrow room, laughing. Then he stopped as suddenly as he had begun.
"You will hardly recognize it, but it is very fitting that you came to the Golden Day with the young fellow," he said.
"I came out of illness -- or rather, he brought me," Mr. Norton said.
"Of course, but you came, and it was fitting."
"What do you mean?" Mr. Norton said with irritation.
"A little child shall lead them," the vet said with a smile. "But seriously, because you both fail to understand what is happening to you. You cannot see or hear or smell the truth of what you see -- and you, looking for destiny! It's classic! And the boy, this automaton, he was made of the very mud of the region and he sees far less than you. Poor stumblers, neither of you can see the other. To you he is a mark on the score-card of your achievement, a thing and not a man; a child, or even less -- a black amorphous thing. And you, for all your power, are not a man to him, but a God, a force --"
Mr. Norton stood abruptly. "Let us go, young man," he said angrily.
"No, listen. He believes in you as he believes in the beat of his heart. He believes in that great false wisdom taught slaves and pragmatists alike, that white is right. I can tell you his destiny. He'll do your bidding, and for that his blindness is his chief asset. He's your man, friend. Your man and your destiny. Now the two of you descend the stairs into chaos and get the hell out of here. I'm sick of both of you pitiful obscenities! Get out before I do you both the favor of bashing in your heads!"
I saw his motion toward the big white pitcher on the washstand and stepped between him and Mr. Norton, guiding Mr. Norton swiftly through the doorway. Looking back, I saw him leaning against the wall making a sound that was a blending of laughter and tears.
"Hurry, the man is as insane as the rest," Mr. Norton said.
"Yes, sir," I said, noticing a new note in his voice.
The balcony was now as noisy as the floor below. The girls and drunken vets were stumbling about with drinks in their hands. Just as we went past an open door Edna saw us and grabbed my arm.
"Where you taking white-folks?" she demanded.
"Back to school," I said, shaking her off.
"You don't want to go up there, white-folks, baby," she said. I tried to push past her. "I ain't lying," she said. "I'm the best little home-maker in the business."
"Okay, but please let us alone," I pleaded. "You'll get me into trouble."
We were going down the stairs into the milling men now and she started to scream, "Pay me then! If he's too good for me, let him pay!"
And before I could stop her she had pushed Mr. Norton, and both of us were stumbling swiftly down the stairs. I landed against a man who looked up with the anonymous familiarity of a drunk and shoved me hard away. I saw Mr. Norton spin past as I sank farther into the crowd. Somewhere I could hear the girl screaming and Halley's voice yelling, "Hey! Hey! Hey, now!" Then I was aware of fresh air and saw that I was near the door and pushed my way free and stood panting and preparing to plunge back for Mr. Norton -- when I heard Halley calling, "Make way y'all!" and saw him piloting Mr. Norton to the door.
"Whew!" he said, releasing the white man and shaking his huge head.
"Thanks, Halley --" I said and got no further.
I saw Mr. Norton, his face pale again, his white suit rumpled, topple and fall, his head scraping against the screen of the door.
"Hey!"
I opened the door and raised him up.
"Goddamit, out agin," Halley said. "How come you bring this white man here, school-boy?"
"Is he dead?"
"DEAD!" he said, stepping back indignantly. "He caint die!"
"What'll I do, Halley?"
"Not in my place, he caint die," he said, kneeling.
Mr. Norton looked up. "No one is dead or dying," he said acidly. "Remove your hands!"
Halley fell away, surprised. "I sho am glad. You sho you all right? I thought sho you was dead this time."
"For God's sake, be quiet!" I exploded nervously. "You should be glad that he's all right."
Mr. Norton was visibly angry now, a raw place showing on his forehead, and I hurried ahead of him to the car. He climbed in unaided, and I got under the wheel, smelling the heated odor of mints and cigar smoke. He was silent as I drove away.
Chapter 4
The wheel felt like an alien thing in my hands as I followed the white line of the highway. Heat rays from the late afternoon sun arose from the gray concrete, shimmering like the weary tones of a distant bugle blown upon still midnight air. In the mirror I could see Mr. Norton staring out vacantly upon the empty fields, his mouth stern, his white forehead livid where it had scraped the screen. And seeing him I felt the fear balled coldly within me unfold. What would happen now? What would the school officials say? In my mind I visualized Dr. Bledsoe's face when he saw Mr. Norton. I thought of the glee certain folks at home would feel if I were expelled. Tatlock's grinning face danced through my mind. What would the white folks think who'd sent me to college? Was Mr. Norton angry at me? In the Golden Day he had seemed more curious than anything else -- until the vet had started talking wild. Damn Trueblood. It was his fault. If we hadn't sat in the sun so long Mr. Norton would not have needed whiskey and I wouldn't have gone to the Golden Day. And why would the vets act that way with a white man in the house?