Ralph Ellison - Invisible man

vibrating the very floor.

"Just a few minutes more, you bastards," I said aloud, "and I'll be gone! No respect for the individual. Why don't you think about those who might wish to sleep? What if someone is near a nervous breakdown ... ?"

But there was still the package. There was nothing to do but get rid of it along the way downtown. Making a tight bundle, I placed it in my overcoat pocket. I'd simply have to give Mary enough money to cover the coins. I'd give her as much as I could spare, half of what I had, if necessary. That should make up for some of it. She should appreciate that. And now I realized with a feeling of dread that I had to meet her face to face. There was no way out. Why can't I just tell her that I'm leaving and pay her and go on off? She was a landlady, I was a tenant -- No, there was more to it and I wasn't hard enough, scientific enough, even to tell her that I was leaving. I'll tell her I have a job, anything, but it has to be now.

She was sitting at the table drinking coffee when I went in, the kettle hissing away on the stove, sending up jets of steam.

"Gee, but you slow this morning," she said. "Take some of that water in the kettle and go wash your face. Though sleepy as you look, maybe you ought to just use cold water."

"This'll do," I said flatly, feeling the steam drifting upon my face, growing swiftly damp and cold. The clock above the stove was slower than mine.

In the bathroom I put in the plug and poured some of the hot water and cooled it from the spigot. I kept the tear-warm water upon my face a long time, then dried and returned to the kitchen.

"Run it full again," she said when I returned. "How you feel?"

"So-so," I said.

She sat with her elbows upon the enameled table top, her cup held in both hands, one work-worn little finger delicately curved. I went to the sink and turned the spigot, feeling the cold rush of water upon my hand, thinking of what I had to do ...

"That's enough there, boy," Mary said, startling me. "Wake up!"

"I guess I'm not all here," I said. "My mind was wandering."

"Well, call it back and come get you some coffee. Soon's I've had mine, I'll see what kind of breakfast I can whip together. I guess after last night you can eat this morning. You didn't come back for supper."

"I'm sorry," I said. "Coffee will be enough for me."

"Boy, you better start eating again," she warned, pouring me a full cup of coffee.

I took the cup and sipped it, black. It was bitter. She glanced from me to the sugar bowl and back again but remained silent, then swirled her cup, looking into it.

"Guess I'll have to get some better filters," she mused. "These I got lets through the grounds along with the coffee, the good with the bad. I don't know though, even with the best of filters you apt to find a ground or two at the bottom of your cup."

I blew upon the steaming liquid, avoiding Mary's eyes. The knocking was becoming unbearable again. I'd have to get away. I looked at the hot metallic surface of the coffee, noticing on oily, opalescent swirl.

"Look, Mary," I said, plunging in, "I want to talk to you about something."

"Now see here, boy," she said gruffly, "I don't want you worrying me about your rent this morning. I'm not worried 'cause when you get it I know you'll pay me. Meanwhile you forget it. Nobody in this house is going to starve. You having any luck lining up a job?"

"No -- I mean not exactly," I stammered, seizing the opportunity. "But I've got an appointment to see about one this morning ..."

Her face brightened. "Oh, that's fine. You'll get something yet. I know it."

"But about my debt," I began again.

"Don't worry about it. How about some hotcakes?" she asked, rising and going to look into the cabinet. "They'll stick with you in this cold weather."

"I won't have time," I said. "But I've got something for you ..."

"What's that?" she said, her voice coming muffled as she peered inside the cabinet.

"Here," I said hurriedly reaching into my pocket for the money.

"What? -- Let's see if I got some syrup ..."

"But look," I said eagerly, removing a hundred-dollar bill.

"Must be on a higher shelf," she said, her back still turned.

I sighed as she dragged a step ladder from beside the cabinet and mounted it, holding onto the doors and peering upon an upper shelf. I'd never get it said...

"But I'm trying to give you something," I said.

"Why don't you quit bothering me, boy? You trying to give me what?" she said looking over her shoulder.

I held up the bill. "This," I said.

She craned her head around. "Boy, what you got there?"

"It's money."

"Money? Good God, boy!" she said, almost losing her balance as she turned completely around. "Where'd you get all that much money? You been playing the numbers?"

"That's it. My number came up," I said thankfully -- thinking, What'll I say if she asks what the number was? I didn't know. I had never played.

"But how come you didn't tell me? I'd have at least put a nickel on it."

"I didn't think it would do anything," I said.

"Well, I declare. And I bet it was your first time too."

"It was."

"See there, I knowed you was a lucky one. Here I been playing for years and the first drop of the bucket you hits for that kinda money. I'm sho glad for you, son. I really am. But I don't want your money. You wait 'til you get a job."

"But I'm not giving you all of it," I said hastily. "This is just on account."

"But that's a hundred-dollar bill. I take that an' try to change it and the white folks'll want to know my whole life's history." She snorted. "They want to know where I was born, where I work, and where I been for the last six months, and when I tell 'em they still gonna think I stole it. Ain't you got nothing smaller?"

"That's the smallest. Take it," I pleaded. "I'll have enough left."

She looked at me shrewdly. "You sho?"

"It's the truth," I said.

"Well, I de-clare -- Let me get down from up here before I fall and break my neck! Son," she said, coming down off the ladder, "I sho do appreciate it. But I tell you, I'm just going to keep part of it for myself and the rest I'm going to save for you. You get hard up just come to Mary."

"I think I'll be all right now," I said, watching her fold the money carefully, placing it in the leather bag that always hung on the back of her chair.

"I'm really glad, 'cause now I can take care of that bill they been bothering me about. It'll do me so much good to go in there and plop down some money and tell them folks to quit bothering me. Son, I believe your luck done changed. You dream that number?"

I glanced at her eager face. "Yes," I said, "but it was a mixed-up dream."

"What was the figger -- Jesus! What's this!" she cried, getting up and pointing at the linoleum near the steam line.

I saw a small drove of roaches trooping frantically down the steam line from the floor above, plummeting to the floor as the vibration of the pipe shook them off.

"Get the broom!" Mary yelled. "Out of the closet there!"

Stepping around the chair I snatched the broom and joined her, splattering the scattering roaches with both broom and feet, hearing the pop and snap as I brought the pressure down upon them vehemently.

"The filthy, stinking things," Mary cried. "Git that one under the table! Yon' he goes, don't let him git away! The nasty rascal!"

I swung the broom, battering and sweeping the squashed insects into piles. Breathing excitedly Mary got the dust pan and handed it to me.

"Some folks just live in filth," she said disgustedly. "Just let a little knocking start and here it comes crawling out. All you have to do is shake things up a bit."